The Toads Go East - Day 2

The covered bridge at Glimmerglass State Park

Sunday.

The daylight revealed quite a reasonable parking job the night before; straight and level, which is always a bonus. The site we were on was quite neat, with a fairly level pad of crushed stone, a bench and tables, a fire pit and little barbecue on a stand, all set in woodland. Like the other New York State Park we'd visited, it was very neat and tidy. 

Our neighbour opposite complimented us on our nocturnal parking skills, which was nice, and then in answer to my question about the showers, said that he'd seen worse; was that a recommendation I wondered? Sure enough, the showers were OK, not up to Ontario Parks standards perhaps, but still serviceable. The plastic curtain on the front of the stall was streaked with mud, which is something I've come across before here in these US parks; what do people do in there?

Back under the awning, I sat and watched the campground wake up as the clouds scudded, rather quickly I noted, across the blue patches of sky that I could see through the tree tops. All of a sudden a short, sharp shower of rain appeared. It soaked everything and passed off as quickly as it had arrived, which was a bit odd because it didn't look particularly rainy, before or after the shower. 

Later that morning we walked off towards the beach on the edge of Lake Otsega and were surprised at both the number of people coming into the park to enjoy said beach and the wind that was whipping in off the lake. Well, despite the wind, the lake was beautiful, surrounded by high, wooded hills that were peppered with expensive looking houses, more of which later. The beach and grassy picnic area was filling up with large family groups, admittedly huddled against the wind in sweatshirts and blankets, but it looked a really pleasant place to be on a summer Sunday. The water close to the beach was marked out into a swimming area and as well as a lifeguard on a high chair on the beach, a cold looking lifeguard was also occupying a floating high chair some yards off the beach. He or she was all muffled up against the wind and probably wondering about the wisdom of being a lifeguard in New York rather than California. Still, there were people in the water so I'm sure he or she was coiled, ready to leap into action. I might just note, in a mildly controversial manner, that in a country that allows just about anyone access to a gun, the Americans seem to be possessed of a fervour concerning other types of health and safety. Just saying loike.

The Park's grounds are also home to a lovely covered bridge, in the manner of The Bridges Of Madison County. This one was long out of regular use but had been well restored and was a pleasure to explore. I bored the tadpoles with observations about its construction and Mrs T did the Clint Eastwood thing and took the photographs. This bridge claimed to be the oldest covered bridge still standing in the US, but it was so well restored that it barely looked a few years old. 

We then took a trip into the local metropolis of Cooperstown, which nestled at the other end of the lake in a fold in the hills. The town was named for Judge William Cooper, the father of the noted American author James Fenimore Cooper, whose works included The Last Of The Mohicans and Otsega Lake was known as Glimmerglass in his books. The approach to the town down the western shore of the lake was one long string of big lake-front houses, all equipped with boat docks of course. We passed the Glimmerglass Opera (the US answer Glyndebourne by the looks of it), the Fenimore Art Museum and the opulent Otesaga Resort Hotel (complete with the 55th best golf course in the US!), which was all very posh. The town today, though, is famed for being the location of the National Baseball Hall of Fame, which truly is Mecca for all baseball fans. The town's pretty Main Street was occupied almost exclusively with baseball themed shops and restaurants, and why not? Pretty much all of the (many) people in town were there to visit the HOF. So many were wearing team shirts, hats and the like but some were kitted out in full baseball uniform. This was, we discovered, because there was a small stadium at the back of the HOF where the faithful come and play short games, just to say that they've played at the Cooperstown Dreams Park. I'm not deriding any of this but baseball is to me what cricket will be to most Americans; nonsensical. Still, Cooperstown makes a year-round living from the Hall Of Fame and good luck to them, I say.

Back at Towed Haul for the evening, we settled into Monopoly as the evening drew in. We had intended to go and visit the stately Hyde Hall at the other end of the Park, but we never left the trailer, so intent were the tadpoles on losing to my mean Monopoly skills. 

Monday was set to be another travelling day so I fell into bed at quite a sensible hour, albeit that the cheese sandwich I'd had at nine-thirty was destined to be my downfall. Ho hum.

Anyway, more tomorrow, toad fans, as we head east to the ocean.