Memorial Day Triple: Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Massachusetts

We had to start early if we had any hopes of getting back to West Point at a reasonable time. Judging from Google Maps, the ideal could be as little as 8 or 9 hours. It wasn't ideal. Cutting through Connecticut on I-84, the mist was lying low in the valleys, posing for postcards with white church steeples reaching through trees and clouds. When we shifted onto highway 44 East of Hartford we began curving this way and that, startling fly fishermen awkwardly stepping over guard rails to catch some holiday relaxation before their late-day BBQs. Crazy quilt gravestones leaned in churchyards, tired from age, names and dates washed away by weather as though bringing an end to grief. Gaily arranged nurseries and antique stores with gold-lettered signs came past every few miles, along with churches and homes and the seemingly out of place commercial enterprises. All along the winding wooded ways of Connecticut.

Finally, Rhode Island. We zoomed right past the sign, because it wasn't there. Another sign was in its place, much smaller. So after a mile or two we turned around and parked at the right spot, where my Pastor friend David Roseland was waiting all along. The trail to the highest point in the Ocean state was about a hundred yards, gaining all of a few inches of elevation. It was beautifully forested. Highpoint number eight down.

Our plan from there was to cut across Connecticut on highway 44, all the way to Salisbury, the launching point for Mt. Frissel. Hmm. We forgot that it was Memorial Day, and small towns like to have parades. Between Killington and Hartford there were four or five parades, three of which caused us significant detours. Then, there came the near fatal mistake. 44 cuts through North Hartford, which is very bad. We were totally in the hood, and very nervous for several blocks as glares penetrated our windows. When we got home and remarked about this, Clare Miller told us that she barely escaped a carjacking in North Hartford. Noted. Don't go through North Hartford ever again. On the other side of the capital, again there were several parades - and in Avon and Winsted we had to detour several miles. Yep, way behind schedule.


After a McDonald's stop in Salisbury, we began to navigate our way down delightful gravel roads to the trailhead for Mt. Frissel, on the Mass-CT border. Leaf-dappled sunlight guided our way over six miles, and then we began the second hike. This one was tougher, scambling and clambering over sharp rocks to the top of Round Mountain, and then down again to the saddle, and up to Mt. Frissel, whose summit is in Mass, so you have to go around to the south side to bag the high point. Sweat was dripping off my cap brim in a stream, and my shirt was soaking, but the occasional vista to the North was enough to inspire a rest stop or two. We dodged the poison ivy, greeted a few fellow hikers (but oddly not a single high pointer was met by us this day), and headed down again. There were huge Lady Slippers along the trail at a few places. Neat flower.


We had to backtrack to Salisbury in order to get straight again toward Pittsfield, Mass, and Mt. Greylock 15 more miles to the north. We were stalled by holiday traffic again as we wound through southwestern Mass, and it seemed to take forever to get up to Mt. Greylock. But the top was awesome, towering above the surround terrain by over a thousand feet. Well over. We took pictures quickly, and started back home, more than two hours away, while we listened to the country music Memorial Day Special. Great stuff. We arrived back in West Point at 7:30 PM, 5 hours beyond expectation, but happy.

We live in a great nation, great because of the beauty of its land, but also because of the hearts of the people. It is worth defending.

Interlude: Graduation Day

This is one of those days that make everything else seem pretty insignificant. It was a perspective day. I know we're getting in some high points this extra-long weekend, but the real reason we're here is to witness the graduation of Caroline "Coco" Miller, a seventh generation West Pointer. She grew up in our little church in Denver, Colorado, but had West Point stars in her eyes as long as any one of us can remember. And today, the culmination of her dreams, and her hard work, came to fruition. We are proud to have a small stake in her life but she is the one who deserves the credit. It takes sacrifice to what she did.

The second great blessing is one that goes on and on, fellowship with dearly loved friends with whom we will spend eternity. To that fellowship we will add the face to face presence of the Lord, but days like this are a reminder of what is unique to our faith: the sure promise of eternal life in Christ Jesus, a fantastic eternal life of good things.

New Jersey: Freeways, Scenic Byroads, and a Surprise

We get up early, really early in Colorado, to catch our 7:15 AM flight to Newark, New Jersey. We have to be in West Point, NY for the Baccalaureate service at 7 PM, and that includes hitting the Jersey high point, getting to our temporary residence, changing, and arriving at the Cadet Chapel. The flight (including a great view of the Statue of Liberty and the Empire State Building), the baggage, and the rental car all go really well. Cue slightly ominous music. We head up the New Jersey Turnpike, and the signs are kind of confusing, because there are TWO NEW JERSEY TURNPIKES. Eenie Meenie Miney Moe. Yep wrong one. Inside I'm thinking that I don't want to go to New York City. Not through the Holland or Lincoln Tunnels, not over the George Washingtom Bridge. Not by ferry, either. So we pay our money for the turnpike after waiting ten minutes to do so, and then find our way to I-80 West, and everything feels better. And it is. We're cruising, now.

We take the highway 15 exit and head northwest, and with the freeway MPH we are actually gaining our lost half hour back. Now, we are all starving, and finding a place that has food and drink is increasingly a priority. We go through various small towns, and they are more and more charming the deeper into the woods we get. It is Spring Green and gorgeous at every turn on our winding road, and with the blue sky and warm weather life is really good, and, after missing a Mickey D's in Sparta because of a weird exit where you had to turn right to go left, and another gas convenience store that didn't look all that great, we find a respectable looking deli in Coleville, just a couple of miles from our high point. The stuff looked positively scrumptious. One problem. The guy there was super polite, and several really nice people came in who were friendly, but man, he was painstakingly slow at making the sandwiches. They were delicious, but suddenly we're a half hour behind schedule. We grab our bags and head for the road, and our first high point since New Mexico, last September.

Now here's the nice surprise. It is speck tack u lar. We break out of the forest, and across a little lake we see the half size or so replica of the Washington Monument - that's it! What a beautiful sight. And then, the panorama is also amazing. So we take our picture next to the monument, and looking down we notice gazillions of caterpillars crawling around the ground. How cool. The only disappointment is that the monument is closed.

Next stop: West Point. We are behind schedule thanks to the World's Slowest Sandwich Maker, but oh well. We get there, we meet Col. and Mrs. Lynch, our hosts. We change. We get to the church on time. Wow. God made beauty in Jersey, and man made beauty at the Cadet Chapel. And then, maybe best of all, faces of people that we love. The Millers, the Corliss's, the Johnsons, and of course the graduate we came to see, Coco Miller. Coco sings the solo in the Cadet Choir for the service, and hits it just right, and then we get to catch up with everyone afterward. We are blessed. Monday morning Turner and I will rise early hopefully bag three in one day - Rhode Island, Connecticut, and Massachusetts.