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.