Florida Bound

By jxmartin

Mon, 12 Oct 2020

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Florida bound

Friday, October 9th, 2020

We started out from Amherst on a sunny, cool afternoon. We had chosen to drive eastward, on the NY Thruway, and then follow Rte. # 390 south through Corning and on into Central Pennsylvania. The other alternative was Rte. #219 south. That way would be clogged with thousands of leaf peeper, headed for Ellicottville.

The rolling hills, of a huge central valley, runs down from Rochester, NY to the southern Tier. Tinges of color were appearing on the hill sides, but the whole color display was not yet showing itself. The conical grain silos and perfectly plowed rows of brownish earth, on the farmer’s fields along the way, bespoke of a wealthy land. Some say there are more cows than people hereabouts.

At Corning, you drive through the curving valleys along the Chemung River, with the high hills of the river valley providing a funnel -like effect for the winds. The conditions here are favorable for manned gliders and ballooning. As we entered Pennsylvania, on Rte. # 15, the vast emptiness of the land catches your attention. Thousands of square miles of Fir-tree forests, green grass and rolling meadows are untouched. I wondered how many farmers this land would support and why it isn’t productive now. The rolling hills continued for many miles, as we approached Williamsport, home of the little League World Series capital. Many a child has aspired to play here in this modest rural playing field. The surrounding countryside appears “rural poor,” as we traversed the highway headed into the more famous Nittany Valley, home of the Penn State-Nittany Lions at State College, Pennsylvania. Joe Paterno is the storied coach who is enshrined here as a local Football God.

A road jog onto Pa. Rte. # 80 brought us to a screeching halt. Crews of men were “improving the road.” You can never tell what they are doing as they wander around the many orange cones blocking one of the two lanes of the highway. It took us about an hour to clear that hurdle. The shadows were lengthening, as we sped down Rte. 220, headed for Altoona. We were meeting my Niece, Michelle McGinnis, husband T and son Avery for dinner. The valley here near Altoona was brightly colored splashed with reds, yellows, oranges and ambers. Even in the fading light we could see the multi colored splendor along the eastern sides of this splendid valley. We had been on the road for five- and one-half hours and were beginning to sag with the day. I think they made the trip longer since we first drove this way a few decades back,

At Altoona, we located our hotel for the nigh, a Holiday Inn Express. We quickly checked in, dropped off our bags and then scurried off to “Monzoni's,” a nearby Italian eatery. The McGinnis family warmly welcomed us. We had some pretty good food as we chatted about family and friends. We don’t see them often and it was fun to spend some time with them. The dinner was all too brief. We made our partings and wished them all well. It had been fun to watch their boys grow from small children to college age kids and adults. Tired with the day and the drive, we repaired to our room and crashed, stanke morte. (dead tired)

Saturday, October 10, 2020

We were up very early, still tired from yesterday. We set off before 7 A.M. just as the first false light of day was showing on the eastern horizon. “The Curve” hereabouts is a source of local pride. It is a several mile-long portion of Rte. 220 that hugs the contour of the eastern side of the steep mountain. The entire valley of the Altoona area spreads out before you in neatly layed out communities. The colors here were brilliant as well. It is an eye-pleasing spectacle as you hurtle south towards the Pa. Turnpike that runs along the bottom of the state. We followed it eastwards, until we hooked up with Rte. 81. This two-lane highway is a trucker’s road, running from Montreal in the north all the way to Roanoke in the Blue Ridge mountains. Traffic wasn’t too bad as we headed south. This is the famed Shenandoah valley and “Horse country.” Just a few hours west of the Nation’s capital, the horsey estates here are impressive. A hundred and fifty years ago Col J.E. B Stuart had led his Confederate Cavalry up and down this valley fighting Union troops all across the state. For us, it was a little slower. A car fire, that consumed the entire vehicle chassis, froze traffic still for an hour. All you can do is wait until it clears. The fire truck and ambulance crews did their jobs. The noble firemen cleaned up after them. Then, we were on our way again. It was but one more blip in a travelogue. You learn to just rock and roll when things like this happen, making do as best you can.

At Staunton, Va. we turned eastwards towards Charlottesville, home of the U o f Va. And Thomas Jefferson’ estate at Monticello. We picked up a slight rain headed east. Westbound traffic was blocked by an accident, poor folks! Just east of Richmond, the former Confederate capital, we picked up Interstate 95, the main north-south artery in the eastern U.S. The traffic was heavy. Lots of people like us were trying their best to speed southwards and get out from under the approaching rains from Hurricane Delta. The day was getting long from all of the stoppages. The road seemed to go on and on. Finally, some 11 hours and 635 miles later, we reached our goal at Florence, South Carolina. We had already passed through several gulley washers of storms. And Delta hadn’t yet arrived. We picked up some, take out, checked into another Holiday Inn, tired with the day. A vodka martini always helped melt off the travel from the day. We watched the news programs and settled gratefully into the arms of Morpheus.

Sunday, October 11,2020- Florence South Carolina

We were up by four A.M., hoping to get an early start and get out from under Delta’s shadow. The monsoons had come over night and the area was drenched. We saddled up and were out the door by six A.M. Traffic was light on I-95 for the first few hours. Curiously, we didn’t see a cop on the roadways for three states. They are usually thick as June bugs on syrup. Five hours later, we cruised into Florida, always happy to make the grand arrival. The rains were above us and it has already heated up to 87 degrees out. Traffic was very heavy on Rte. 10 west and then down rte.# 75 towards Gainesville. Either the entire state was out on a lark, or many, many thousand like us were coming south for the winter. Driving here was like Monte Carlo. You did what you could to avoid being run down. We were again tiring with the drive and the day. We made it into Wesley Chapel, just north of Tampa and called it a day. We had stayed here a few times before and knew the lay of the land. A brief stop, at Tijuana Flats, provided some tasty Mexican food. The Holiday Inn was nearby. We checked in, opened up a bottle of Josh Cabernet and relaxed from the eight-hour drive. The trip was getting long. We watched the news, read for a time and then closed our eyes for the night.

Monday, October 12, 2020

We slept in until seven this morning, wanting to get a later start and avoid the Tampa rush Hour traffic. The entire area around Wesley Chapel had exploded with suburban growth in the last few years. Tampa was expanding out this way quickly. Traffic southbound was heavy but not onerous. We cruised through Tampa and Sarasota, headed towards Estero. Today, we only were in the car, for three hours. It was a pleasure to finally cross the Caloosahatchee River and then drive on into Estero. Our community of Spring Run was a welcome sight. We had been away for five months and were glad to be coming home. We unpacked our gear, settled in and were happy to have made the long trek safely.