Vivian's RV Vignettes

When I left Prince Edward Island, I crossed back into Maine (a frustrating experience with GPS directing me into the dead-end of a closed border crossing…). Since then I’ve stayed in Maine, New Hampshire, Canada again (Quebec/ Ontario), and now Ohio, so it’s past time for me to catch up here.

Back in Maine, I stayed at Patten Pond near Ellsworth, the same general region where I’d stayed before (Bar Harbor/ Acadia). I did that on purpose so I could enjoy Maine summer without trying to cram in sightseeing; I had a feeling (which proved correct) that I’d need some quiet days to catch up on work and chores. But I got a couple of beautiful Maine days out of it (finally, after all the cold rainy weather) and got in a nice kayak on Patten Pond.

I made a stop off in New Hampshire for a couple of days to visit Mount Washington, known as the windiest place on earth. A century or so ago, it measured a wind gust of 231 miles per hour, the fastest ever recorded at an official weather station. The mountaintop weather was on brand the day I visited… no hurricane-force winds, luckily, but it was cold and foggy and windy.

I got up and down the mountain on the Washington Cog Railway. “The Cog” was the brainchild of local resident Sylvester Marsh, who wanted to invent a way for the masses to be able to safely visit the top of the mountain, after his own rather harrowing experience being caught in a storm on a hike to the top. Folks told him he might as well try to “build a railway to the moon,” but his Yankee ingenuity figured it out. The train track has a rack up the middle of it that looks like a ladder a few inches wide, and the engine and passenger car have cogs underneath that lock into it to pull the train upward (and to control its descent on the way down). The grade of the track goes as high as 37 percent, so the coefficient of static friction between wheels and rails would not provide enough traction otherwise. (*Does a happy dance for pulling out the one term she remembers from AP Physics.*)

If you look close, you can see the cog locked into the rack under the track. Unlike some other mountain trains/ cable cars I’ve been on, the bottom of the car stays parallel with the ground instead of being slanted, but the benches inside are tilted to keep riders comfortable as it goes up. This has the weird effect that you feel like you’re level and the buildings outside are wildly slanted, even when you KNOW they are built to be level.

If I had gone up the day before, when the weather was clear, I’m told I probably could have seen all the way into Vermont and Canada.

But the mountain is fog-bound 75% of the time, so they have a virtual view at the top in case you are there on a zero-visibility day.

The train only goes up at 5 mph. The day I was there was “Race the Cog” day, when crazy trail-runners run UP the mountain and try to beat the train to the top. (I can’t even imagine.) The race was over by the time I got there, but I rode up on the train that won this year (it beat all the hikers). There are a number of hiking trails on the mountain, including the Appalachian Trail — it crosses the tracks near the top of the mountain, marked by cairns to keep hikers from plunging into the Great Gulf, a massive cliff with something like a 1500 foot drop-off.

The top of the mountain has these amazing trees… they look like little bushes a year or two old, but they are full-grown mature trees that are 100-200 years old! They just grow incredibly slowly because of the harsh environment.

I did get some great views on the way down as we got below the cloud line.

The next day, I went on back into Canada to see Montreal. About the time I hit northern Vermont, I drove into a cloud of wildfire smoke, which thickened as I got into Quebec. But I made it to my campground in Ontario (right on the Quebec border). The next day was very rainy, which helped clear the air. The day after that, I drove back in to Montreal to see it.

For the full French Canadian Street Café experience, I ordered Lobster Poutine.

Next, I went to have a look at Montreal’s Notre Dame Basilica.

It was built in the 1800s, and the elaborate front area is a carven representation of the Gospel (the Last Supper, Christ on the cross, foreshadowing scenes from the Old Testament, etc.). I was interested to note, though, that the stained glass windows and some of the paintings on the side were scenes from Canada’s early days, including Native Americans, priests, local Catholic saints, and settlers.

It reminded me of the time years ago when I visited the Vatican and for the first time in my life really had a sense of Christian history as a continuum from Christ until our own day. I think one of the weaknesses of the Protestant Church is that we have a tendency to sharply distinguish between New Testament times and 1517 (the Reformation) onward, viewing them as completely separate eras with a void of “Dark Ages” in between. But God’s work did not cease with the close of the canon of Scripture, and while many things became corrupted over the years, the light never died.

It’s funny, I know stained glass is just another art form like painting or sculpture, but I look at it differently, maybe because of the traditions of my own background. It’s so beautiful that I associate it with holiness and reverence and Biblical subjects, and I’m startled when I see it depicting more modern subjects. Not long ago, I learned that stained glass windows had been created for Jerry Falwell and other modern leaders, and I remember feeling indignant about it as something akin to idolatry. It still seems ridiculous to me to see men in modern business suits in stained glass. I can’t help but feel that such an honor shouldn’t be given to anyone living, lest it swell their ego too much. On the other hand, I can see the value in windows like Montreal Notre Dame’s that honor God at work in more recent history.

The main basilica was full of tourists taking pictures, and didn’t seem to be at peace enough to be a place of prayer. But I discovered a chapel behind the altar that is designated for prayer only, no photos (so I have no pictures of it). It’s modern, built after the old chapel burned down, so it’s made of light-colored wood and full of skylights, a totally different feel from the gothic basilica. I sat for a while in prayer and meditation, enjoying the quiet.

After that, I went back to my RV, and the next day moved on back into the US. I ran into the smoke cloud again in New York, got out of it by the time I reached Ohio, and then it caught up to me again. When I reached my campground, after some 11 hours on the road, I discovered that there had been some kind of mix-up between the booking website and the campground, and they did not have a reservation for me (even though I got a confirmation email). They were able to give me a spot for two nights, but the other two nights (Friday and Saturday) they were booked up. Unfortunately, EVERYONE goes camping on Fourth of July weekend, and I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find anywhere to go.

I put my predicament on Facebook, and my friend Misti from Asbury and her husband John stepped up for me. 🙂 They live on a small farm a couple of hours from where I had meant to stay, and they let me park in their driveway for those two nights. I got to admire their 120+ year old farmhouse, their chickens, rabbits, hay fields, and their English Springer Spaniel Lottie (who warmed up to me when I played fetch with her, and otherwise warned me off as a potential burglar). We went to dinner, played board games (including Trekking the National Parks!), and watched the first episode of The Gilded Age.

This morning, Misti took me with her to her church, which is Eastern Orthodox (so I got the WHOLE spectrum of the history of Christendom this week!). I hadn’t been to an Orthodox service before and was curious to experience one. I started out just sitting quietly and observing, which I’ve always felt is the most respectful thing to do when you have no idea what you’re doing! Misti is the choir director, so she took me up to the choir loft with her (out of sight in the back balcony of the church). She handed me a liturgy book and I ended up singing along with the choir where I could.

It’s probably about the most “different” tradition from what I’m used to (except maybe for extremely charismatic Pentecostal!) but I enjoyed the service. Nearly everything is sung instead of spoken, including the scripture readings, and this was an Antiochan church (tracing back to Syria) so there was some Arabic mixed in (which sounds great as a lyrical chant, much better than English). It wouldn’t be the kind of place where I’d feel most at home long-term, but I’m really glad I got to experience it and worship with them.

Now I’ve moved on to my next campground near Cuyahoga National Park, so I should be visiting there sometime in the next couple of days (if it’ll stop raining!). I need to find a good spot for Fourth of July fireworks, too.