The Sunday morning roads were empty and store fronts and homes were decked out for the day of national celebration. We wanted to avoid the parade and it's traffic, so choose the long way around the big town's Main street. It took a few tries to find the access road as we motored around back roads admiring 800 lb round bales of hay. 'Why can't I find any thing that good looking up home?' My driver was tuned into my longing and joked about towing one home... Spotting a small banner on a town light pole, we made a graceful lean right and turned onto the smooth black top that would take us to our point of interest. Immediately I was thinking, '...how come our roads don't look this good?' My biker man said it out loud, "...these roads are awesome..." "Yup, NY may be poor, but they have great roads!" I was happy for the smooth surface and his eager hand on the throttle. We were flying between the lane markings, making the flag snap behind my ear as I swelled with patriotic pride, '...it's the fourth of July; let's show her off...' In tune with my thinking, he would roil the throttle faster...until, there it was. A large sign indicating FORT TICONDEROGA; not too far away, sprawled a modest A-frame sign-board naming the 'Log Cabin Restaurant ~ breakfast was now being served'. We needed breakfast and it was right where we wanted to be.
Rolling to a stop beside a picnic area already claimed by a pair of Harley's and their riders. A custom soft tail showing a lifetime of miles and a dresser with small American flags on the trunk. The riders looked old enough to have served in the military as they were covered in ride patches, insignia and club colors of their origins. Our massive flag raised broad grins on all three of them. We chatted about riding, answering their queries about the hassle of the flag and it's influence on the drive as I attempted an ungraceful dismount, careful not to disturb the gallant banner. I had to remark with some sarcasm; "...who's idea was this anyway..." as I wriggled my right leg off the seat, around the pole. "I don't see why you are struggling; it was your idea..." my biker man pointed out, in his understated Vermont-speak. He began to chuckle at my comical movements to dismount and the presence of spectators evoked my thoughts on the episode; "f _ _ k you, sweetie; I can drive and you can ride, you know..." The lady rider laughed and shared a quick story about her husband bringing home a puppy on his bike...Where ever we go, riders will have something to say, thoughts to share and stories to swap. We will never see them again but for a brief moment, we were friends in the journey. It's always a pleasure, even my very shy driver lights up at the chance to connect with other Harley enthusiasts. They mounted their bikes, we turned for the Log Cabin thinking about a good breakfast. Before us stood a stockade of sorts, a picket set far back from the west wall of the Fort. In the interior parade field, five empty flag poles stood at attention the late morning sun light.The specials sign at the doorway listed ham and eggs with fried potatoes on the side. Yum, that would hit the spot. We placed our order, took our number and found a seat under a fan. No ac here, it was very comfortable on this hot, muggy day. I would struggle in such heat, until we got rolling. When the heat impaired my balance and stamina to ride, I would soak my white shirt with cool water and let evaporation ease my heat stressed brain. My biker would smile and lament that it was not the front of my blouse. "you can't see me anyway, you better be looking at the road..." I would retort as I held on tighter to his waist. I felt blessed to have him in my life. He gets me; and is patient with my odd needs. This day would be one of those days.
Breakfast devoured, we walked about the ample gift shop and found the entry to see the Fort. To my surprise, the sign said $15 per adult. '...seriously, just to go in and walk around, see some stuff and maybe watch them raise the flags...' Apparently, he was in time with my musings as he whispered, " ... do you really want to see it... I hoped it'd be $15 for both of us..." Knowing he would have paid if I'd wanted it, my answer was "no way, that seems kinda steep to me..." We excused ourselves, and walked outside, along the pickets and down to and old moat...Across the gray stone wall, they began to raise the flags with ceremony. The sound was fifes, drums and commands from a costumed re-enactor. We could only see the tops of their heads as flags rose to their perches. Ours still looked better and no one had to pay to see her.
Back at the ticket desk, a dozen tourists in new sneakers and fresh clothes had paid to see the historic site. My blood chilled as I wondered: " did our founding fathers intend that such national treasures be "private" ventures where only those with 'luxury' dollars would be permitted to see the very spot that the tide of the Revolution turned in our favor? Lamenting the fees, we snapped some pics of the picket and walked away. My humble green mountain man, remarked: "how can something that should belong to every American have a price on it to see? So only the rich people can go in, but a hard working tradesman like me has to walk away..." It reminded me of a statement made by a Bhutanise at the Tiger's Nest monastery in Bhutan. At 10,200 feet it was built as a tribute to a Buddhist monk. The views were beyond inspiring to the journalist who made the ascent. The kind citizen gave him these words: "In our most beautiful places, we build temples and monasteries and everybody goes there. In your most beautiful places, you build five star resorts and only the very rich can go there..." (taken from National Geographic Traveler July/Aug 2010, Boyd Matson)
I am aware this facility is in peril due to lack of funding, that it crumbles by inches back to the earth. But still, $30 would pay for our fuel for the next 250miles. It just seems this is the kind of landmark our tax dollars should be supporting with gratitude. There must be some middle ground here...but then, Great Briton didn't think so 300 years ago either. For fascinating incite to the Fort, check out these links
http://www.fort-ticonderoga.org/ for the tourist story and visiting information; but for the most interesting background and photos, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fort_Ticonderoga..
We wandered to our waiting bike, strapped on our helmets, mounted up and headed for the east side of the lake. No more bill boards on smoothly paved roads. The forth was in full swing on every mile. The smell of bar-b-q and corn roasting in backyards, teased our noses and affirmed that all was well with this day of remembrance. We followed the land roads to Vermont and counted more acres of perfectly made round bales of hay...even the air felt different, we were heading home with miles to go...
this is an engraving of Ethan Allen demanding surrender of the Fort...
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