In 1961 Lois and I drove off on our honeymoon. We went through New England, crossed over Ontario, Canada to Niagara Falls, then returned via New York and Pennsylvania. There were no digital cameras at the time. All I had was a Kodak Box Camera and since it was expensive to purchase film and have it developed, I didn't take a lot pictures.
Although we stopped nights in Pennsylvania, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Vermont, New Hampshire, Canada and New York, we never went into Rhode Island or Maine. In 2006 we took a second honeymoon and specifically targeted Maine as our main destination, but also made certain we hit Rhode Island. No Canada this time. By now, of course, I did have a digital camera, so many more times of photographs long the way and back.
You can look at the videos at your leisure.
We had lunch at The Corner Pug, Elmwood, Connecticut. This time on our first day out, we stayed at Old Sturbridge Village in Massachusetts. We had stayed in this resort on our honeymoon. This is where you see Lois in a pillory on our honeymoon. No such device this trip.
We left Sturbridge the next day and stopped at Mark Twain's home in Hartford, Connecticut. Twain lived there from 1874 to 1891. Harriet Beecher Stowe, author of Uncle Tom's Cabin lived adjacent to Twain's house from 1873 to 1896.
We left the Twain property and had lunch in The Hamptons at Master McGrath's, Seabrook, NH. Master McGrath's was named for a champion Greyhound. From pug to greyhound, it was like we were going to the dogs.
In the afternoon of the second day we arrived in Maine and toured The Desert of Maine. Did you know Maine had a desert? As evening was coming we headed for our next stop and immediately got lost. I feared we would be sleeping in the car somewhere in a woods, but we came across some golfers who directed us. Seems my AAA map had taken us off the main entrance road back into some scrub country.
We stayed the next several days at the Sebasco Resort on cask Bay. I booked us into the lighthouse apartment right along the coast of the bay. The lighthouse stands out in several photos. It was also right next to the restaurant called The Pilot House.
On the next morning we drove to Boothbay, Maine to go on a whale watch, but no whale showed up during the cruise. Saw some seals. Back at the resort we took a trip in The Ruth all about the bay. Met a friendly lobster fisherman while there.
Later we drove to the art museum in Farnsworth. There are a lot of Wyeth paintings on display here. Andrew Wyeth had a second home here in Maine. Of course, Lois bought a print of one of his waterscapes.
After our stay at Sebasco, we drove down into Rhode Island and stayed at a Marriott in Providence. I was out and about photographing the city. From there we went into Newport, ate at a restaurant next to the Tennis Hall of Fame and then toured the mansions along the ocean highway, including the Breakers, home of the Vanderbilts. A few years later we would tour their home, Biltmore, in North Carolina.
That night we stayed at the historic Hawthorne House in Salem. Salem has a lot of witches museums to visit. The House of the Seven Gables, which Nathaniel Hawthorne wrote of is also there. After Salem we toured the Mystic Seaport in Massachusetts. Back in boats again. I really love bring out on the water. Fist we sailed in a sailboat and then in a steam boat.
We headed home after that, stopping over night in East Haven in a not so nice area. We drove several miles to find restaurant, which turned out to be great although the clientele looked straight out of the Sopranos. The owner was also the waiter and he was hilarious. Soup of the day was Tomato Florentine, but it was right at the height of the spinach scare and no one was buying. He was running about saying we could take a galleon home.
At the motel, my wife wakes me at 1:00 AM in a fright. "A gang in in the parking lot slamming shopping carts into cars," she tells me. "I want to leave. Put the luggage in the car."
"Say what? You tell me their is a vicious gang in the parking lot and you want me to go out there?"
I did go. I didn't see anyone, but she was adamant that we escape, so I loaded the car, dropped the key on the nightstand and we fled. Immediately I was lost searching for I-95. Here it was the middle of the night in a strange place. We couldn't get back in the motel and I was lost. Finally, by chance, I stumbled upon the ramp to I-95. At 2:00 in the morning we were driving through Spanish Harlem in New York, where everything was in Spanish, which I do not know. Oh no, this may become the Bonfire o the vanities!
We press on. There is no one else on the road but the drunks, weaving across lanes. I avoid them as best as I can. We arrive home by 4:00 in the morning and almost scare Laurel to death. She thought someone was breaking in.
By the way, it turned out some teenage baseball team in a tournament was staying at the motel. They were running about the place making a lot of noise, but not smashing cars with shopping carts. When I contacted the motel chain, the owner apologized and gave me a free night at any on their lodging. So far I have never went back to that chain.