As my mother would quote at me whenever it rained. Which it did, most of last night and well into the day today, although it had stopped – and cooled off, down to around 80 for the high, amazingly enough – by mid-afternoon.
I left Irene’s around nine, and headed southeast towards the Connecticut coast and New Haven. It was a pretty drive, which could have used more pullouts for photo opportunities. New Haven itself was something of a rabbit warren. I’d had sort of vague ideas (not terribly concrete ones because DC sort of museumed me out) of stopping at the Peabody Museum of Natural History and the New Haven Museum (local history), but parking was a pain in the rear so it just didn’t happen.
Once I got to the coast, I kept trying to get off of I-95 and onto U.S. 1, but wow, were the roads badly labeled. At one point I was so lost I wound up flagging down an extremely nice FedEx driver, who let me follow him out of the labyrinth of backroads – and back to I-95 instead of U.S. 1 [sigh]. So I pretty much gave up at that point and didn’t try to get back off of the Interstate until past New London, where U.S. 1 was labeled, and went on to Mystic.
The only real reason I wanted to go to Mystic is for the Mystic Seaport Museum, which I’d been to once 35 years ago, on the same trip that I saw Washington Irving’s house. I had good memories of it, and I love maritime history, and I wanted to see it again.
I didn’t arrive in Mystic till the middle of the afternoon, though, so I parked Merlin (who parallel parks much more easily than you’d think) on a side street and walked the touristy little downtown, where I also got to watch the drawbridge over the harbor entrance go up. Which was kind of cool.
Then I went looking for a campground, because it was, hurrah! cool enough to camp. Well, barely. And my rib is finally healed enough, too!!! I ended up in the RV lot of a local Indian casino with everything from huge fifth-wheelers to one family with a tent trailer, and at least two other vans, of which mine was the smallest. I fit right in, thanks much. It was either that or pay forty bucks for a campsite, and I’m sorry, that’s ridiculous. I paid less than that for my motel room in Williamsburg, and it was the principle of the thing.