Back on the road to Maine, we “shuffled off to Buffalo,” 7-hours away from Indianapolis to visit Islandwalk neighbors at their Upstate NY lake home. I had so far managed to get in a walk every morning, but only a mile on two occasions. My leg continued to bother me, particularly when I first got out of bed, so this limited exercise was not nearly enough to counter all the tenderloins, tacos, candy, wings, cookies, and alcohol consumed. On the way, we passed through Cleveland with memories of visiting the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. 

21,750 was our starting odometer reading from Venice. It was about 1100 miles from there to Indy and another 500 to Buffalo (23,170). The side trips to Rochester, Kokomo, and North Vernon added 400 more, and by the time we reach Acadia National Park another 800 will pass. It was already the 9th day of our journey. The next stop will be Maine, my 50th state to visit. 

Once we left Buffalo and dined at Johnson’s Landing on Lake Erie, we experienced miles of new countryside for both of us. Rochester was about as far north and east I’ve been in New York state. Lake George took us close to Vermont where my travel was limited to ski areas. I did fly into Burlington, but the scenery was mostly snow on the bus ride to Stowe (3,625 ft.). Mount Washington (6,293 ft) is the highest point as we continue east towards New Hampshire and Portland, Maine. This will complete the Portland, MA (43:40 latitude) to Portland, OR (45:30 latitude) circuit, the two cities, one named after the other, are more than 3,000 miles apart but at similar northern points.  

We shared what I called a “Buffalo sampler” at dinner that included wings, pizza, and beef on weck. It was great to spend time with our former neighbors that also spend their summers in NY, the first of two such overnight visits in a row. I managed to get a 2-mile walk in before our next 5-hour segment in the car. 

While driving in the rain, it had struck me that our current travels had taken us from Rochester, Indiana to Rochester, NY, once home to my Indy friends. Years ago, I came on two occasions to nearby Lake Canandaigua (Can-You-Dig-It?) for a week of partying at their family summer “cottage” of at least twenty small bedrooms, once a fishing lodge or most likely a bordello. I remember a ghostly presence – maybe a result of the drugs and alcohol? 

We arrived for Happy Hour at the beautiful Grosso Camp House, constructed of pine, on Great Sacandga Lake, just west of Saratoga Springs and south of Lake George. They made us a delicious salmon dinner before the bourbon put me to sleep. The next morning, I stumbled through a short, hilly walk before we all stopped to take-in a majestic view of the Adirondack Mountains on our way into Vermont.