The Accidental Tourists

3,500 Flights Cancelled. The news headline blared from my phone, complete with a video of $9.00 gas prices as Kathy and I settled into our first-row seats for our flight to Baltimore early Friday morning. Welcome to the Summer of 2022 when the National Enquirer, the supermarket checkout aisle tabloid I fondly remember from my youth, has finally completed their consolidation of the rest of the national media. It's hard to know what to believe anymore.

But, maybe they were right all along. We had a one-hour delay in Atlanta. Delta had the plane on the tarmac, but the pilots were stuck elsewhere. I've read that airline staffing is down by 20% from pre-pandemic times, but that demand for air travel is almost back to the 2019 highs. I don't know if that is true, but both our planes were completely full, so the airlines aren't wasting any space. I'll miss the days when we could book an off-peak flight time, and end up with a row all to ourselves.

We landed at BWI (Baltimore Washington International) about 5:30 pm and Kathy's little brother Tom and his wife Beth were waiting to pick us up right in front of the terminal. For a big city, BWI is a really easy airport to get into and out of. Several years ago, the Irish brewer Guinness took over the historic Calvert distillery just outside of Baltimore and turned it into their first US stronghold. Since we have no immediate plans to visit Dublin, I asked Tom and Beth if we could stop there for dinner on the way to their house in Catonsville.

Ordering was interesting. By now, all of you have probably seen the ubiquitous QR-Code menu. At Guinness, they've taken it one step further. You have to order and pay from the menu, and your food is delivered to your table. (At least they still use a person for that.) I tried to order for myself, but couldn't figure out how to work the software, so Tom ordered for us. Everyone else had hamburgers, but I had the Irish beef stew with a scoop of mashed potatoes on top, and thick brown bread on the side. It was so, so good. (I apologize for the lack of a photo; I'm a little out of practice.) 

Kathy doesn't drink and I almost never do, but I had to at least try the famous brown Guinness "stout" with my meal. I thought it was really good; very rich and much different from what I've always thought of as beer.

After dinner we drove to Tom and Beth's "homestead" in Catonsville, a beautiful suburb of Baltimore, full of lovely multi-story last-century houses on large lots that would be priceless in California. (I asked Beth about prices and she said her neighborhood was averaging about $750K. I can envision all of my California friends making plans to move right away.) Notice Kathy's scarf mimics the Maryland flag flying from Tom and Beth's front porch.

Tom and Beth gave us the guest room on the second floor, and we fell asleep by 9:00 pm (6:00 pm West Coast time).

Saturday: The Cabin in Accident

Saturday morning we both woke up by 7am, and went downstairs to find that Tom had already left for their cabin in Accident, Maryland, in the mountains near the West Virginia / Pennsylvania border. He had a dump-truck and backhoe scheduled so he could get some work done over the Memorial weekend. Our plan was to follow later in the day with Beth and our nephew Joshua.

The four of us left around 10am, made a quick stop at CVS for supplies and were soon on the road. We had expected more traffic for the holiday weekend, but the roads were surprising clear. Driving out through Frederik and Cumberland, Kathy and I couldn't stop marveling at how green everything was. It reminded me of driving through Southern Oregon (although Kathy said that in Oregon there were more Fir trees.)

We got to the "cabin" on Klink's Lane around 1pm. Tom and Beth bought the lot here about ten years ago, and they have been building their log cabin on the weekends ever since. 

Built on the side of a hill, the cabin overlooks a green valley, with Bear Creek and Fish Hatchery Road running along its floor. The cabin has three floors surrounded by porches where you can sit and enjoy the view.

Since we got a late start from Catonsville, Beth fixed us a quick lunch. Tom needed some Weed Wacker "string", so the four of us (me, Kathy, Beth, and Josh) volunteered to drive over to Grantsville to pick some up at the Dollar General store. 

I was able to buy some nuts and candy, and admire the Amish family who arrived in their horse and buggy, but the store was out of the Weed Wacker string, so we decided to drive back to Accident and check the hardware store there. 

In 1806, 30 years after the Revolutionary War, and 6 years before the British would again invade the United States, the new Congress authorized and funded the first interstate highway from Cumberland Maryland to the new frontier on the banks of the Ohio River at Wheeling, West Virginia. Known as "ThePike", the highway carried stagecoaches (up to 14 a day), freighters, and droves of cattle. About every mile along the way could be found public inns, known as Ordinaries. Little Crossings Inn, now the Penn Alps Restaurant, is one of the few that remain to this day.

In 1835, the National Pike was turned over to the States, who saw it as great fund-raising opportunity. They erected toll gates and added mileage posts. However, technology marches on. The Civil War ushered in the age of the Railroad, and traffic on the Pike began to decline. Stage and mail-coaches stopped running about 1907. Still, in a way, technology had the last laugh; the automobile brought new life to The Pike and an end to the Railroad monopolies. 

The Casselman River bridge has been in continuous service from 1813 until 1933 when it became part of the State Park. Actually, as you can see here, it's still in service, only not to cars. The park is beautiful, uncrowded, and peaceful.

To preserve some of this history, many of the original buildings from The Pike's past have been moved to a site next to the Penn Alps Inn (the original Little Crossings Inn), and opened as the Spruce Forest Artisan Village, which tries to preserve the traditional crafts from the history of the road.

At the Potter's Shop, Beth picked up a $25 mug with a blemish for $2. Kathy admired some plates, but didn't buy any.

We both looked through the Blacksmith's shop. Beth had purchased an iron guitar sculpture for the cabin here, and I wanted to see if there was anything that would interest our daughter Hosanna, who is a metalsmith. I found these bracelets, but they didn't really seem to be something she would like.

When Kathy and I reconnected, she told me about a silversmith shop which was on the far side of the potters, and which I had missed. There were a few interesting necklaces with enameling, so I sent this photo to Hosanna.

We spent a few hours visiting the shops in the village and admiring the ferns and underbrush growing next to the paths and between the old log cabins. However, we still had a mission to accomplish: the quest for the Weed Wacker string. Back in the car, we headed back to Accident, only to find the hardware store closed. 

While disappointing, Beth was sure that we could find the string at the Lowes in Oakland, only a "few miles" further down the road in the opposite direction. Sure enough, after a drive by shimmering Deep Creek Lake, we finally found the string. 

Even better, though, we made a stop at Candyland where each of us sorted through the bins of by-the-pound candies for our favorites, and thus fortified, we headed home for dinner.

When we got there, Tom was grilling steaks on the porch. Kathy and Beth grilled onions, vegetables, and cauliflower on the range. (Kathy wouldn't let me post that picture.)

I did, however, remember to take a picture of their finished work. Both beautiful and delicious. 

After dinner, we played pool in the basement. I haven't played since high-school, but Tom was gracious enough to let me win. Kathy didn't want to play, but Beth, Tom, and Josh played several games. The evening finished up, for us, when Josh beat his father, which I'm assured is not a common occurrence.  

The top floor, where Kathy and I slept was marvelous, including the soaking tub looking out over the valley. When we turned out the lights, I couldn't believe how dark it was, and how quiet. Living next to Newport Boulevard, we're just so used to constant, 24-hour white noise.