Quiet morning by the pond watching the ducks meander in and out of the water as I wrote. Starting the fire required work; the wood was wet from the prior night’s rain.
Ah yes, just after crawling in bed last night, we heard the familiar patter of drops on the roof. Reluctantly, we got out of bed to bring in the chairs. I forgot about the dog pen when I dashed for the chair. Unfortunately, I toppled over the pen, jamming my toes, causing much discomfort. The second toe is swollen and bruised, yay me. Camping life is never dull:-).
Our initial plans were to visit the Tennis Hall of Fame. The Men’s ATP tournament starts tomorrow, July 11th. We’re a day early to see any of the action. Ron called to see if we could watch them practice but was told no. Since Newport is an hour and 20-minute drive, we decided to find something else to do. Mystic Seaport Museum was our alternative plan.
Neither of us knew anything about Seaport. Entering from the north entrance, we didn’t realize the museum was similar to Colonial Williamsburg (CW), a live museum. They don’t have the period actors like CW, but they have people stationed throughout the park to answer questions. CW is a favorite of ours; Ron got on one knee while I sat on a bench, and proposed.
Our opening venture was into the meeting house. Built in 1851, the building served as the Greenmanville Seventh Day Baptist Church, the heart of the village. Walking past the carved wood benches lining the square room, Ron said, “Can’t beat the old pews, can you?” No, you can’t. The smell of old wood was prevalent through all of the buildings, making me miss a time long gone by.
Seaport has boats available for charter. I joked with Ron about what happened last time we rented a private ship. Absentmindedly he said, “What?”, not thinking about our nautical wedding. When I reminded him, he laughed and said, ” Oh yeah, that was a big day.”
Touring the boats made us realize how small the people on the ships were. Walking through the bough of the boat, Ron said, “Ouch,” when he realized how low it was.
Boarding the Firefighter boat, Ron said, “Don’t Buy a shirt.” Not hearing him clearly, I said, “huh?” He repeated himself. Ron saw the sign asking us to support the boat by purchasing a t-shirt. He already knew I would want to buy one to help the cause. Ron was heading me off at the pass; it worked; I didn’t buy a shirt.
Over 50 buildings are open for touring. We didn’t see all of them, just making a loop around the perimeter of the village. When I saw a small boy playing with the oars in front of the boathouse, I needed a picture. Ron obliged.
Finding the end of the museum, we made our way out at the South Entrance. Conveniently, the gift shop was outside the exit. Ron said, “Good,” when I left the gift store without purchasing anything. I did try to find something, but nothing jumped out at me.
Since we exited at the opposite end from where we parked, we walked the street back to our car. Reading the signs, we realized the houses were part of the museum. “This part was called Greenmanville after the guys, the three brothers.” Geroge, Clark, and Thomas Greenman bought houses side-by-side in the village they founded.
Ron pointed out the irony of our visit, “They were Seventh-day Adventist, they didn’t work on Saturday. Ironic we’re visiting them on Saturday.”
Ron wanted to do a little exploring on our way back to Aces High. First, we toured Seaport, driving down through the waterfront area. Of course, we arrived just in time for the Mystic River Bridge opening, so we got to sit and wait. The activity was bustling as people walked, biked, and maneuvered their way around the historic area.
After Seaport, we drove through New London, where we arrived on the ferry. Train tracks and electric wires decorate the waterfront drive. Cute shops line the main street of both towns.
Arriving back at Aces High, Ron said, “Cute little campground though, kinda has a Mama Gerty’s feel to it.” Mama Gerty’s is a privately owned campground in Asheville, NC. We discovered the quaint mountain RV park on the trip to Colorado we took for my fiftieth birthday. Sporting three levels carved out of the side of Black Mountain; we scored a top-level sit overlooking the valley. To this day, one of our most memorable finds.
Afternoon naps energized for a round of golf at Cedar Ridge. Just a few miles from our site, we played nine holes. Men’s and women’s tees were the same; I had to use a driver on every hole but one. Not once did I hit the green. Ron struggled as well but made the green more than I did. Walking the hills and valleys of this course was a true workout, and the course proved great practice for our short game.
Back at the campground, after a frustrating but fun round of golf, we headed back for a relaxing evening around the fire. I made Ron snap pictures of my office in Aces High. With the best wifi we’ve found so far, we were both able to get a lot done.
Tom was helping his grandson, Jack, fish. The majority of what he catches are Sunfish. Tom said people call them all kinds of things like Sunnies and Johnnie Roaches. Not edible, they are fun for the kids to catch and release. Bass also reside in the pond, although none were biting.
After dinner, we discovered the Woodland Walk on the outer edge of the pond. Both wearing flip flops, we had to dodge the poison ivy. Ron wasn’t planning on a hike but went along begrudgingly. To try and make the mood lighter, I said, “At least we know there are no gators.” To which he replied, “That’s true, no gators in Connecticut.” He did think he could see himself falling, but thankfully he did not.
With over 13,000 steps recorded on my Fitbit, we headed to bed early. A new day’s adventure waits for us in the morning.