Thursday 17th September, 2009.

This is Plymouth. We're back on the 'mainland' this morning. Earlier, we didn't have to check out until 11:00am so we didn't. We had one last breakfast at Beth's and then, having packed our stuff into the Prius for the last time, we set off to Boston's Logan Airport in some trepidation. The Sagamore Bridge is the only way on or off the Cape by road and they started some 'roadwork ' a couple of days ago. It's causing chaos, needless to say. Taking some commuters an extra three hours to get across at peak times. Never mind, we think, the worst will be over by the time we set out and, sure enough, it is. We get across in about twenty minutes. We get to Plymouth in good time. We don't have to get to the airport until about five o'clock, so we plan to have a last looking around all the pilgrim historical sites but, as we arrive, the clouds are looking ominous and pretty soon it is drizzling with bad intent.

We nip back to the car and put our waterproofs on just in time. The rain is getting serious now, but we are determined to have a look around. We are torn between seeing things and not wanting to get soaked before the flight home. Tricky.

By the time we get to the replica of The Mayflower the rain has almost stopped. We debate whether it is worth paying to have a closer look at the ship and decide to cough up as we have plenty of hours to kill. It wasn't cheap and we finished it in about 30 minutes tops. Hmm. We could have gone on a guided tour but fdecided that people dressed in costumes talking a version of olde Englishe to be a tad corny so gave it a miss. There you go. There were some others in 'costume' and, eventually, we realised that these are genuine Amish people here as tourists just like every one else. The highlight of our day, really.

We then walk to Plymouth Rock. Well, part of it. The rest has gone. Not sure where. Souvenirs? This is all that's left of where the Mayflower landed back in the day.

It's raining so hard now that we have no alternative but to have some lunch and hope it stops soon. It doesn't. We take a slow drive up and down the streets of Plymouth to see some of the historic buildings. Many other folk are doing the same. Then we decide to cut our losses and get to the airport earlier than planned. At least, that way, we'll have time to drop off the car and check-in in good time and get some decent seats for the flight home.

We are slightly dreading this drive into Boston. But we follow the R3 to the Interstate 93 and then, by simply dis-engaging brain and following the signs for Logan Airport, and after several leaps of faith that take us under the city and over many looping parabolicas, we pop back out into the rain in the middle of Logan Airport. Amazing. The hire companies are well signposted and we drop the Prius off in good time. A short shuttle bus ride later we are outside Terminal E about four hours prior to take off.

Here Vicky is doing some last minute 'shuffling' of bag contents to get through the latest security checks.

We get crap seats (almost literally) next to the bogs. We are not happy. Virgin won't let us change them unless we pay $50 each for the privilege. Whatever happened to them keeping 20% back for up to two hours before take-off, as with the outward flight?

We don't pay the $100 and so we have a predictably crap flight. Cramped. More so than on the way out and it's a night flight. The cabin crew are clumsy and incompetent. At one point, just as we had got to sleep, we were tapped on the shoulder and asked if we had 'ordered a handbag?' Gawd. Other incidents pissed us off, but we can't be bothered to detail them now. Suffice to say it was one of our worst three flights of all time. Not what we expected from Virgin Atlantic whom we have flown with twice before without a problem.

Then when the endless flight finally lands, taxis slowly to the Terminal, and we all file slowly off in that despondent way, the queues for immigration are even longer than the ones to get into the USA. There's our flight, one from Thailand, and at least two others. It takes over an hour to get through. We are tired and grumpy and we've still got to drive home.

We collect our baggage and stagger though customs. We 'phone the company who parked our car and they say they'll be twenty minutes (they are quicker). We are so tired we can't get our bearings. We leave Terminal 3 by the wrong exit and have 'a discussion' about which direction we should stagger. Vicky wins, which is a good thing, 'cos we'd have been heading for Terminal 2 if we'd done what David said. Our car arrives and we load it up and get going. We have been in this soddin' airport for over two hours now.

We swap over at Oxford Services on the M40. Vicky drives and David falls asleep. He wakes up somewhere near Redditch. He's never fallen asleep in our car before, he says. Vicky is wide-eyed and trying to stay awake at the wheel. We get home safely and go to bed.

So, not the best end to what has been a pretty good holiday. A great holiday in parts but overall, only a good one. If we go back, and we might, we wouldn't bother with Cape Cod. Boston, yes. Then New Hampshire with Maine and Vermont to boot, if poss. Still, we've been and that's the main thing. The whalewatching made everything worthwhile and the day at the New Hampshire Speedway/Shaker Village was pretty darn good as well. Whilst the White Mountains were an unexpected delight. Oh, and we won't be using Virgin Holidays next time either. Their Rep never did contact us. We'll do it ourselves or use Trailfinders.

Four Stars, then (out of five).

Wednesday 16th September, 2009.

We have arrived in Provincetown after a long drive along Route 6 (not to be confused with R6A, obviously) the length of Cape Cod. The road was very busy. Much more so than we anticipated. We mean, where are all these buggers going to? Again, there are very few wagons. It's mainly cars and small vans all travelling bumper-to-bumper at exactly the 60mph speed limit. When we finally get to Provincetown, some two hours after we set out, it is really busy and parking spots are even harder to find than usual. Aha! So they were all heading here just like us. The only place we can find is some one's back yard. It's a big back yard we grant you, and it looks out over Cape Cod Bay but $10 is a bit steep, even so. Mind you, that does include the nice lady agreeing to putting David's slice of quiche we bought from Beth's Special Teas this morning in the fridge (in case he got peckish) whilst we walk around and, as we don't come back for about four hours, it was probably a bargain (probably).

Provincetown has a reputation for being 'bohemian'. It has several shops decorated just like this along the road behind the harbour. Needless to say, we didn't venture inside on account of them being chock-a-block with bohemians doing the dastardly things that bohemians do. Indeed, we quickly conclude, that we haven't seen so many bohemians per square foot since visiting Byron Bay.

We have some lunch (another fish restaurant, but not as good as the one in Falmouth) and then walk it off with a stroll around the harbour. The sun is out and they are doing whalewatching trips from here but they've already departed. That's probably just as well. A fourth would be really indulgent.

We leave Provincetown just before three and head back south. We pull off Route 6 and drive into Wellfleet. Amazingly, we find a greengrocer (remember them?) selling real fruit and vegetables. You can see how excited Vicky is here. She doesn't know which ones to put in the bag first. So that's quiche and fresh fruit and vegetables for dinner for us this evening. A 'first' for nearly three weeks.

Just to the east of Wellfleet lies the Cape Cod National Seashore and we follow signs for Marconi Beach. We stand on the famous beach from where people actually believed that a signal could be sent from here all the way to Europe. Fools! It'll never work.

Then Vicky fancies having a quiet lie down in the dunes but we find that they are out of bounds for conservation purposes. Gotta give 'em time to recover, eh?

From there, we head back along Route 6 all the way to Barnstable, where we turn off onto R6A just so we can get in a quick game of crazy golf at a place just outside Sandwich that has been 'calling' us all week. It's a tough course but we are skilled and experienced players and it holds no fears for us. The light is fading fast by the time we have fought out 18 holes of close combat. It's nearly 6:00pm by the time we finish and the owner is keen to close-up. We are the last to leave.

We head back to our room and eat our quiche feast with real veg and fruit in preparation for how things will be when we get back home. The days of eggs, bacon, pizzas, cheese, and home fries are well and truly over (unless we come back, that is).

Tuesday 15th September, 2009.

Here we have a photo of two happy sods about to go whalewatching for the third time this holiday. How every indulgent. Still, it's good for the soul and there's no harm in it, eh? We're not sure if we should indulge ourselves this way again. The first two trips were great and it's hard to see how this one from Barnastable will be better. We've had another leisurely start as the tides dictate that the boat can't depart until 12:30pm. Let's drink a toast to the tides, then.

This is the Provincetown Lighthouse on the finger tip of Cape Cod's 'fist'. Beyond here to the east lies nothing except the Atlantic Ocean until you reach Europe. Makes yer fink, dunnit?

Today's trip is the best one yet. Nothing short of fantastic. We only see humpbacks, no finbacks but, when we say 'only see humpbacks' we really are getting complacent. Humpbacks are the stars of the ocean as far as we are concerned. They are like massive black dolphins in that they are so gregarious. Always doing something. Other whale species we have seen (sperm whales, southern right whales) simply come up to the surface, blow some spray out of their blowholes, show off a dorsal fin perhaps, and then dive down with a nice view of their tail. That is brilliant, of course it is, but humpbacks do all that and much more. They roll on their bellies like huge playful puppies wanting their bellies tickled, and flick the water with their flippers and tail. They 'snake' through the water with their head out, just because they can. They breach out of the water backwards (the classic humpback image) as they dive back down in search of a meal. However, it seems that only mature males do that as they show off in front of the females prior to mating. Those dirty buggers have done the dreaded deed and have now all swum back to the Caribbean. So it's left to the mature females to put on a show today. This is a shot of 'Nile' - she's a grandmother whose had eight calves over the years -and she's an expert feeder. Here, she is 'bubble fishing' and, having trapped the fish in the net of bubbles, she surges up through the water with her mouth wide open. You can see the upper jaw, the lower jaw, and the baleen through which she squeezes out the salt water as she closes her mouth, before gulping down the meal.

This is what 'Nile' is after. Schools of sanderling. It's what our North Sea puffins live on. We are pretty sure that we saw 'Nile' and her calf on our first whalewatch trip from Boston. Now, here she is again. In just two weeks her calf has gone from being a playful thing, swimming along in tandem at her side, to a creature mimicking its mother and trying to catch fish by itself. It is not being all that successful at the mo', but we can see that it will quickly getting the hang of it.

This chap is an immature male. About two-thirds the size of a fully grown adult. He's also trying to get the hang of this 'bubble fishing' malarkey. He can do the net of bubbles no problem, but keeps thrusting his head out of the water to the side of the fish. Hmmm, no doubt he'll keep improving. He'll have to, 'cos once the humpbacks leave the Stellwagon Bank, and migrate south to the Caribbean, they'll have only the fat they have put on through the summer to live on.

See? What did we tell you? Leave yer long-uns at home. You only need a short one here. 100mm zoom is all you need, other wise you can't get the whole whale in frame.

Back on dry land, we leave Barnstable and head west in search of Sandy Neck - a wonderful stretch of white sand we spotted as the boat left the harbour earlier. However, you can only get to it by 4WD and as the Starship Prius does not have that capability, we content ourselves with this beach. As you can see, we're not the only ones enjoying the late afternoon sunshine. As you can see, this is slightly out of focus due to David's eyesight and the fact that our zoom lense is not auto focus. Note to Dave and Vicky: get eyes tested at Boots when we get home.

From here we drive 'home', have some dinner, go back to the hotel and use up the camera batteries reviewing all the shots of humpbacks we took today.

What a brilliant day.

Monday 14th September, 2009.

Now it feels as tho' we are on holiday again. It's sunny and warm and we are on Martha's Vineyard. We managed to have breakfast in Sandwich, and drive back down to Falmouth, all in good time for the ten thirty ferry. That's pretty good for us. Shows what we can do when we put our minds to something. It's when we haven't got a deadline that we come over all lazy. The ferry takes 45 minutes to get to Oak Bluffs harbour. From where it is just a five minute walk into the town. We take in the harbour-front buildings (left) under a clear blue sky and warm sunshine. We visit the Tourist Office, ponder whether to take a bus around the island, decide there's plenty to see here, and so don't.

After a light midday snack in town we walk to the estate of famous 'chocolate box' houses. There are loads of them, all competing with each other for the title of 'quaintest, cutest, little two storey house in New England, if not the world'. On a day like today, a walk around here is delightful. We take our time and seek the shade whenever we can.

At the heart of the estate lies the Tabernacle. No doubt, many a fire-and-brimstone sermon has been given here. Given it's a Monday, it's nice and peaceful today.

You see? This is why things are so much better when the sun comes out. You can take your time, find a seat, and relax and watch the world go by. More days should be like this.

Next, we head for the beach just to say we've walked on it. But we don't tarry long. We are not really beach people. Besides, there's still loads to see in Oak Bluffs and then it'll be time to catch the 3:45pm ferry back to Falmouth. We get back to Sandwich and have dinner at our favourite Family Diner on the R16, and then go back to our 'best room in the hotel' to watch the Weather Channel interspersed with CNN and/or endless analysis of how the Red Sox are getting along on NESC (North East Sports Channel). Vicky is not happy with the sports channels but, as David is quick to remind her, there's nowt else on (honest).

Sunday 13th September, 2009.

This is Falmouth Harbour. Nice, isn't it? A bit of sunshine does wonders. Just as the Weather Channel predicted, the weather began to clear up overnight and things are looking up. Things are also looking up on the hotel room front. We've re-packed all our bags, left them in our room, and the nice English Manager (who wasn't so nice when he told David that the Wolves had lost at Blackburn) says that everything will be taken to our new room by the time we return. So, after a breakfast at Beth's Special Tea's we drove south down the R130 to Falmouth.

Having sussed out the ferry for tomorrow's trip to Martha's Vineyard and found a parking spot (not as easy at it sounds as most are for permit holders) we take a walk around the harbour. Then, as it is now well after one o'clock, we decide to push the boat out (no pun intended) and have a meal at a quite posh, but not very posh, fish restaurant with a balcony overlooking the harbour. Here, Howard and Vicky are tucking into some bread and cranberry juice as we await the arrival of our mains. It's a very good meal. Not particularly cheap but not overly-expensive either. One of the best meals we've had since we've been here (and we can count those on less that the fingers of one hand). The fish is battered, we grant you, but only lightly so. Not like the awful mushy batter that modern British fish and chip shops serve up nowadays.

After lunch, we drag ourselves away from the view and drive to a beach to the south of town. Here, David is meeting some of the locals. Although, judging from everyones body posture, this could be the onset of a proverbial unilateral cold shoulder.

Heading west we stop by this lighthouse just off the road between Falmouth and Wood's Hole. You have no idea, from looking at this, just how long we had to wait to get a shot without any other scrotes in it. Bl**dy tourists. And they wear such garish outfits as well. They'd spoil any photo given half the chance.

We would have liked to have seen more of Wood's Hole but there's nowhere to park. Well, what did we expect? It is a sunny Sunday. So we head back to Falmouth and park at the beginning of the High Street (shown here). It's quite nice as High Streets go. But it's nothing we haven't seen before elsewhere in New England. Obviously, these quaint New England buildings are losing their allure so, after an ice cream, we get back to the car and head home, the way we came, to Sandwich.

True to the hotel's word, we are now in room 45. On the top floor (third) and with it's own balcony. At least we can air the room in the evenings now. If this is the hotel's best room (and clearly, they are very proud of it) it still isn't as good as the room we had in Boston, Salem, or the White Mountains. We conclude that the hotel must have had it's last renovation sometime in the '60's. It's next one is now long overdue.

Saturday 12th September, 2009.

We report to reception and meet the Manager. Well, both Manager's actually. One is an American lady and the other is an English chap who's lived in Cape Cod for years and is married to an American. He spots David's Wolves polo shirt. He has a glint in his eye. He says he supports Spurs and will let me know the Premier League results tomorrow. David is not sure he wants to know. Anyway, the Managers are both very apologetic and confirm we will be moved to their best room tomorrow morning. We are grateful and thank them very much.

The thing about American weather is that it is pretty stable. It either stays sunny or it rains. One day of either at a time, usually. If you're lucky, like we were for the majority of the past two weeks, you get consistent sunshine. There's none of the 'four seasons in one day' that we get at home. Of course, it's a coastal region - not an island like the UK - so that helps. Having said that, Americans are still interested enough to have a whole TV station dedicated to the weather. It's called the Weather Channel, funnily enough. We have come to trust it. It tells us this morning that today will be another dull, drizzly day and then it clear up tomorrow and stay dry and warm until our last day here (Thurs). So now we can plan our stay in Cape Cod. Hyannis via Barnstable harbour, to check out
the whalewatch people there, today. Falmouth tomorrow to sus out the ferries to Martha's Vinyard and Nantucket Island, respectively, and then a drive to the very end of Cape Cod on Wednesday.

We have a healthy breakfast at Beth's Special Teas and then head for Barnstable Harbour. The boat leaves with the tide and we are told to 'phone on the morning we want to go to check the exact time. Whilst there we spot the car above. It's owner tells us it is a 1951 Hudson. All shiny red bench seats and a column change. It's a nice car and could be even better if he tidied it up a bit (not that we tell him that).

Next we head for Hyannis down Route 132. We reach its outskirts and change our minds. So many others are trying to get into it and find something to do. Bumper-to-bumper traffic in all directions. 'Sod this', says David. Vicky directs operations and we head east away from the town, as fast as our Prius' wheels will take us, and then head north to take the R6A east. We stop after a while and have a cup of tea at this place just outside Brewster. We needed it 'cos it's a long slow winding drive (as per) to Chatham. The quaint high street looks worth a thorough investigation but it is incredibly busy. All the on-street parking and car parks are full, We keep going and eventually reach the harbour. Lots of others have done the same but there's some parking places to spare at least. Even better, there's something to see! The fishing fleet has returned to harbour and they're unloading the catch. A scrum of tourists quickly forms (see photo left). We join them and get gawping. Lots of families have brought their youngsters here: all are keen to spot one of the five Great White Sharks which have been spotted here and tagged in recent days. They like to feed on the local seals, eveidently.

Lobsters and skatewings seem to be the main things being unloaded. We debate what might have happened to the skate bodies. Best not to think about that.

We aren't the only ones interested in the contents of the fishing boat. A clue to what happens to the skate bodies, perhaps? Luckily for the seals, if not the shark-spotters, the Great Whites have all gone back into open water.

We end our afternoon in Chatham with Vicky gazing out to sea towards Nantucket Island and Martha's Vinyard (one will have to be sacrificed as we are running out of days).

We drive home along R137 and then R6A through worsening weather. The rain comes down harder and harder. By the time we reach Barnstable the water is lying across the road in huge puddles whist mud and vegetation is being washed out from the banks. It's just like home. Tricky tho', and tiring. As the light fades rapidly we crawl into Sandwich in near darkness, and it is only just gone five o'clock.

What we need is a nice clean, warm, hotel room to go to after dinner. We can't wait for that room upgrade. Ho hum.

Friday 11th September, 2009.

There's no rush today. We take our time and have breakfast in the hotel. It's no better than last night's meal. We really must try to find some local places to eat. We complain about our room again but get the same response. We are getting very frustrated. Vicky uses the info provided by Virgin and 'phones the Virgin Holidays rep on a Boston number. It's an ansa 'phone which transfers her automatically to a New York Office. That doesn't auger well. Vic leaves a message on the off chance someone might ring back. Well, you never know.

It's still raining outside - that persistent drizzle that really gets you wet - so we put our raincoats on and venture outside for a walk around Sandwich. It looks a nice place with plenty of nice old buildings and gardens like the one here.
We use a leaflet on 'The Historical Buildings of Sandwich' as a guide to get around the village and eventually discover a street with several eateries including this one: Beth's Special Teas (geddit). It's much more than a tea shop, however, and better than that, it does healthy breakfasts. Oatmeal, fruit and toast, and a decent cup of tea. And no compulsory Home Fries! A rarity for this part of the world. At last we have found somewhere for a decent breakfast. We go back to the hotel and decide to venture a little bit further afield in the car. We fill up the Prius with 'gas'. It's dead cheap. The only thing in America that is. About a third of the price back home. The 'gas station' is on Route 6A which runs along the northern edge of the village. We also discover a shopping mall, of sorts, a bank, and some eateries to investigate along this particular stretch of road: gathered here to attract passing tourists no doubt. Things are looking up.

If you imagine Cape Cod as a bent arm, sticking out of the mainland into the Atlantic, Sandwich is on its upper bicep - just below the shoulder. If the sun was shining we would head either for the 'armpit' (Falmouth), or the 'fist' (Provincetown), but given the weather we decide to keep things low key. We head to the north of Sandwich and discover the beach and the Atlantic Ocean. It looks like a grim day on any beach along England's shoreline on a damp summer's day and so don't linger long. We decide to drive east to Barnstable along the Route 6A.

The road is slow and winding and there are lots of other tourists driving slowly along looking for something to do and somewhere to go. We enter Barnstable and park up. It has stopped raining now but it is still very overcast. We have lunch and then walk up and down the high street to walk it off. It has started to rain again. There are some nice little shops and, if you look closely here, you can make out Vicky having a fuss with the owner's dog. Always a bonus and guaranteed to cheer us up on a damp squib of a day.

Just up the road outside the Fire Station this sign reminds us that today's date still resonates with Americans.

We spend about two hours in Barnstable which, if nothing else, shows how resourceful we can be when needs must. We have no confidence in the quality of the eateries around here and so Vicky buys some tea bags and biscuits to eat back in our damp miserable room should all else fail. As it happens when we cruise back in to Sandwich we eat at one of the 'family eateries' on Route 6A and are pleasantly surprised when served with one of the best and most healthy meals we have had so far. We shall use this place again.

We get back to our room and the damp smell is much better. Housekeeping has made a bit of an effort and the damp marks have almost been removed. Also there's a message on our 'phone. It's not the Virgin Rep. It's the Hotel Manager apologising for the unacceptable state of our room and that we will be upgraded to another room the day after tomorrow. Simply report to Reception in the morning and she'll sort it out, she says. That makes us feel a lot better.

Thursday 10th September, 2009.

No piccies today.

We check out of our hotel just before 11:00am and, with the Starship Prius fully loaded with luggage and 'gas', we say a fond 'goodbye' to North Conway (sob).

Our journey today begins by following part of the route we took to get to the New Hampshire Speedway but, at Meridith - where we find great humour in the road sign 'Entering Meridith' - we head west at the northernmost tip of Lake Waukewan and take the R104 to its juction with Interstate 93. This three laned highway will take us due south at 55-60 miles per hour until we reach Interstate 95 which encircles Boston.

All goes well at first as we saunter past Concord and head south for Manchester. The road is busy but keeps moving well. We comment on the lack of trucks on American highways. It is something we've noticed since we started driving here. There are plenty of cars of all shapes and sizes and small vans and things: but very very few large wagons. We conclude that most freight is moved from place to place by rail and congratulate America for getting that bit right at least.

Just as we are smugly congratulating ourselves on our fair-mindedness, things grind to a halt and we're not even past Manchester yet. It's just like being on the M6 between Birmingham and the real Manchester. Too much traffic and too few lanes. Then we realise that we have hit the bain of all road travellers: road works, or Road Work as it is called here. The traffic crawls steadily forward and we enter a dreaded contraflow. Cones are everywhere. Giant American cones. Much bigger than ours. You wouldn't want to argue with one of these fellas. The Road Work transpires to be some pretty serious blasting. A whole hillside is being dismantled so that more lanes can be added to this busy section. We have mixed feelings about this, as you can imagine.

We get through the Road Work in about 20 minutes (not too bad, then) and take a rest stop. New England rest stops are not like ours. They are really glorified lay-bys. No 'gas' station. No services. Just a parking place and a toilet block of dubious hygiene standards. It's nice to stretch our legs though. The traffic roars past in a constant grumble just yards away. We are tired and we aren't even half-way there yet.

We get going again and turn west onto Interstate 95. It's like the M25 only with ten times the number of junctions. Every minor, major, and intermediate arterial road leaving the centre of Boston has a ruddy junction with this four lane highway. David resolves to keep the Starship Prius out of the 'inside lane' for fear of being drawn down one of the off ramps, in a moment of lax concentration, and being plunged into some strange locality which he will not be able to get back out of again. Cars in America can pass on both sides and, believe us, they do. The Interstate 95 seems endless. Vicky's finger traces our progress on our atlas. Junction after junction goes by. We are still on track. Good. We take another break at a rest place. Eight lanes of traffic constantly rumbles past as we stretch our legs.

After a five minute break we are back on the road. Things are getting serious now. Up ahead the highway splits. North will take us into Boston. We don't want to go there. How will we ever get out? We keep 'em peeled for any signs for Cape Cod, Plymouth, or Highway 3. Amazingly, we see signs for them all and make it onto Highway 3 unscathed. It's a relief. Now we are heading south east on a two lane highway. Still pretty busy tho'. It takes us past Plymouth and then, after another 20 minutes or so, we are driving across the Sagamore Bridge and entering Cape Cod. No sooner are we across it, however, we have to leave it and take the Route 6A to Sandwich. David's brain trusts the signs now and he only worries a little bit when the funny junction appears, at first, to be taking us in completely the wrong direction.

Almost immediatley we are in the little town of Sandwich and driving down an almost deserted Main Street. Even more amazingly, our hotel lies on Main Street and so we find it without even having to get out of the car to ask our way. We are tired and relived to be here in one piece. David parks up whilst Vicky checks in, and then we head for our much anticipated room. The Dan'l Webster Inn is the one hotel we have really been looking forward to. It's an old hotel but it looks great in the Virgin Holidays Hotel and on its website. We enter the room. It is dingy and smells of damp. Upon investigation there is black mould on the bathroom walls and ceiling, and more black mould on the carpet beneath the sink. One of the pillows has unmentionable stains on it. Nice. We have driven five hours (have we ever had to drive for longer?) and are totally knackered and now we can't unpack 'cos we have to go back to reception and ask for another room. We are in a grump again. Reception says they are fully booked and can't move us until after the weekend. We are not happy but we resolve to take the room as we are too tired to do anything else. 'Bloody internet', David mumbles to no-one in particular but to everyone.

Not a good start to our stay in Cape Cod.

The hotel change the pillow at least and we have a bit of a doze before taking an evening walk around Sandwich. By the time we go out it is getting dark and it has started to drizzle. This was forecast, at least. Being a small place, we can't find anywhere to eat in Sandwich (not even a sammidge!), so we resolve to eat in the hotel. Not something we would normally do. True to form it is expensive , the service is indifferent, and no better than what you can get outside. We are totally bummed out now. We wish we were back in the White Mountains.

A smelly damp room and more rain on the way. This final week is going to be a test of our mettle, eh?

Wednesday 9th September, 2009.

It's always a scratty day when it comes to the day before we move on to the next place. So, we decide to stay local, so's to give us time to do all those things we meant to do in North Conway and have been putting off and, of course, to pack. And don't forget, we hope to go on a 'moose-spotting' trip this evening. This photo is of Vicky outside the White Mountains Resort. It's not the best photo we took of the hotel but it was taken on the day in question, at least. It's been an unexpected joy to stay here and it will be a shame to leave.

Just down the road from our hotel is a community of houses such as this one. Vicky has taken a shine to it. You can, perhaps, see why. It has been unoccupied for the entire week we have been here. Others like it were only occupied for the Labor Day weekend and are now vacant once more. If you've got a spare $2m, or so, you could buy one. Or, perhaps, rent it for the weekend.

To keep things local we head north up R16 for a return visit to Jackson. Vicky says she took this photo. David says he took it. We have two very similar versions. Whatever, it gives you some idea, we hope, of why we liked walking around Jackson and its environs so much.

We drive back to the hotel and 'ring up the 'moose tour' company. We are shocked to find that they have stopped running the tours because most people have now gone home after the Bank Holiday. They tell us another company is still doing the trips but that it is based some 50 miles north in Gorham. As the moose only come out at dusk we reckon we'll have to drive back after dark and we don't fancy that. Needless to say, we are now both on the grumpy side. It's an outrage, we conclude.

We hit North Conway just after lunch and head for the outlet stores: North Conway's all-year-round claim to fame. Well, that, and being a winter ski resort. They know how to get tourists to part with their hard-earned here, alright. But, no matter how hard we look, we can't find anything at a cheaper price than we could get it for back home. And believe us, we tried. Vicky bought a T shirt, just to have something for all that effort, for about $7. We are still in a grump.

This Church is situated on the North Conway main drag. Apart from it being a nice building: look at that sky. We have been blessed by the weather since we have been in New England. Just one wet day since we arrived. Even the locals are pleased as they have had a rotten summer by all accounts.

We have had a fantastic week in the White Mountains and we shall be sorry to leave. Now we must head back to the hotel and pack and gird our loins for the long drive south to Cape Cod. Have we mentioned we are in a bit of a grump?

Tuesday 8th September, 2009.

Yes, yes, we know. It's another covered bridge. They're a feature of New England, we'll have you know.

Today we are taking another short-ish drive. A circular meander along the almost empty Kancamagus Highway (Route 112) and back to North Conway along the even quieter Bear Mountain Road, the R302 and back down the R16. North Conway was very quiet this morning. All the Labor Day holiday-makers have gone back to Boston, or New York State, or wherever it is they drove or rode up from. They'll be back at work now. Serves 'em right.
This is you-know-who at Lower Falls. Picture courtesy of a passing tourist. It's what they're for. It's come out OK, we'd say. Although Vicky doesn't look all that confident that the bloke knows what he's doing, does she?

The view to the north east from near the top of the Kancamagus Pass.

This is yet another waterfall along the course of the Swift River. If only we could remember it's name. They all start to look the same after a while.

This is looking west from half way up and along the Bear Mountain Road. It's aptly named, this road. Full of grizzlies and other terrible creatures out there. That's why we are taking this shot from the relative safety of the Starship Prius. Some grizzlies weigh several hundredweight (or something). We're no fools.

Here we are trekking along a trail through the wild woods of New Hampshire.

Actually, its the woods at the back of our hotel but, you know, we could have been in the wilds for all you know.

Vicky is not looking too pleased because we kept on hearing strange noises coming from the far distance. David told her it was nowt to worry about. But Vicky stopped listening to him years ago. Very wise.