DISCLAIMER
This is a sometimes raw, always brutally honest, and personal perspective account of my travels & the people I've met; NOT another cliche' travel journal. While pondering the word "perspective," please also remember: I am neither a travel writer nor engaging in public relations. Those seeking tourist reviews, happy talk, or support for any dime-store religion or ideology should leave... right now. This will be a HUGE disappointment, and offending you is quite literally the least of my concern. Comments are encouraged, but are necessarily moderated for the time being. As the movie said: "While agreement is not required, thinking for one's self is." Please check the agenda at the door... and enjoy!
Monday night’s deluge gave way to Tuesday’s sun... and its accompanying humidity! For most of the morning, I organized, repacked, and lingered in the woods trying to recall how to function out of a backpack and contemplating my route north. I could either follow the more scenic, but rural/ touristy, road along the shores of Lake Cayuga, or turn west toward Trumansburg and Route 96.
Although I'd spent only two of the previous nine weeks at home, Monday morning's all too familiar comedy-of-errors was a stark reminder that my pack had been little more than an extravagant suitcase since late-March! That was about to change. As I showered, methodically packed and re-packed, and finally walked out of Buttermilk Falls State Park toward Ithaca's mysteries, I expected to be cursing my own stupid, out-of-practice "mistakes" as much as anything! Thinking back to Santa Barbara '08, I chuckled knowing it was sure to continue for a short time then thankfully pass!
