Art and I usually start talking about our end-of-summer vacation in the late winter, when we’ve returned from a week somewhere sunny. In the past few years we’ve explored Washington DC and Virginia, Ireland and the United Kingdom. If we’re going to try someplace new, it will usually be in September, when the summer crowds have thinned and the kids are back in school.
Our list of autumn vacation choices was shorter than usual this year. Art didn’t want to travel outside the United States because of safety concerns in the aftermath of the Iraq war. He thought American tourists might be targeted in Europe or Asia. I didn’t share his opinion, but I was willing to respect it. So I reviewed the list of destination possibilities I keep in my Palm Pilot.
On that list for the past couple of years have been the schooners that sail out of Rockland, Maine. I had read a magazine article featuring the North End Shipyards and then logged on to their website. I’d showed it to Art right away.
On the website, two schooners are described – the American Eagle and the Heritage. The American Eagle was launched in 1930 as the last fishing schooner and is now a national historical site; the Heritage was built in 1983 with a more contemporary, passenger-based design. The schooners sail among the islands off the coast of Maine for three-, four-, or six-day trips. For some sailings, special events are planned: a wooden boat sail-in, schooner race, music festival, or fall foliage viewing. Other trips are just a day-by-day experience.
I’m not a boat person, but a schooner trip looked very appealing. We have friends, Bob and Sheila, who own a sailboat that they moor on Lake Washington in Seattle. We’ve been out with them on half a dozen occasions in the last few years, and it’s always been restful. But on Lake Washington there’s frequently not enough wind to sail, so an auxiliary motor is used. Of all the times we’ve been on Bob and Sheila’s boat, on only two occasions has there been enough wind to actually sail. And those were exhilarating experiences – silence except for the wind in the sails, a tilt to the deck and a breeze in my face. Art has sailed a few times with a group of men he knows, and he comes home every time talking about how invigorating it was, how satisfying.
So, over a year ago, we took the next step toward a schooner vacation. I sent away for the brochure from the North End Shipyards. The full-color pictures were accompanied by quotes from former passengers. I read that more than 60% of the passengers each year have sailed before or have been referred by someone who has. The cabins have standing headroom and electric lights, plus sinks with hot and cold running water. “Heads” and showers are on the deck. The food is memorable.
In April of this year, Art and I decided to sign up. I read carefully the descriptions of the American Eagle and the Heritage, and decided on the Heritage, for two reasons. First, it was built specifically to carry human cargo, so its design included features to minimize the possibility of seasickness. Second, it has no auxiliary engine. If there is no wind, the Heritage waits for a breeze. If absolutely necessary, as when leaving and arriving at its homeport, the small yawl boat is used to coax the schooner along. I liked the idea of sails only.
I called Shary, the booking person at the North End Shipyards. I asked about the difference between the sailings with a special theme and the ones without. Shary said some people like to have some central event rather than just day-to-day sailing with nothing planned. I said we would relish no plans. So Shary booked us for the sail from Sunday, September 14 to Saturday, September 20.
We talked about cabin choices. I said I was slightly inclined to claustrophobia, so Shary recommended cabin 1 or 2, which have skylights. Those cabins were equipped with bunk beds rather than a small double bed, she said. I told her that would be fine, as I’m a restless sleeper in any bed smaller than a queen if I’m sharing it with Art.
So now we had a week booked for a September vacation. We decided that, since we were spending the money for cross-country airfare, it would be practical to find a second destination on the east coast for an additional week, either before or after the schooner cruise.
I set out first to find a home exchange arrangement. I sent out a dozen or so emails to other members of Homelink International, to people who lived in Maine, New Hampshire, or Vermont. I offered two weeks in Seattle during the month of September, when we have some of our best weather and not too many crowds. I got two possible “yes” responses: one from a couple with a cabin on a lake in Maine, and one from another couple on a farm in Vermont. The Maine exchange fell through because the couple was interested in a non-simultaneous exchange – that is, we use their place now and they use ours later – and Art and I don’t have the vacation flexibility to do that. The Vermont couple thought about our offer for a month, then wrote to say they’d decided to do a home exchange in Vancouver, BC instead. Sometimes that happens.
The next possibility was a timeshare trade. We own a spring week in Whistler, BC. This year’s week was banked with Resort Condominiums International (RCI). I did searches on the RCI website over the next couple of weeks to find out what trades were available. We decided on Smugglers Notch, a resort in the Green Mountains of northern Vermont, which offered good-sized condos and numerous activities, even in September, an off-peak month. We’d spent a couple of days in Vermont in 1995 and had enjoyed the scenic drives and the small towns scattered throughout the state. We booked a two-bedroom condo from Sunday, September 7 to Sunday, September 14.
Now for transportation. I researched east coast airport possibilities and decided on Boston. We’d need a rental car for our week in Vermont, at least, and we could pick one up in Boston and drive to Smugglers Notch in four or five hours. Our original thought was to drive from Smugglers Notch to Rockland, drop off the rental car, and take a bus from Rockland to Boston at the end of our trip. But that would have required a drop-off charge for the car, and a late night flight out of Boston after a six-hour bus ride. We decided it would be cheaper and easier to pay for the rental car for an extra week, to leave it in the shipyard parking lot during our sail, and to drive it back to Boston.
We are frequent flyers on Alaska Airlines -- my mother and sister live in southern California -- so we decided to earn some Alaska miles on one of their two flights a day into Boston. We’d received a pair of round-trip first-class upgrades as a gift from our son-in-law. What a great time to use them! We booked our flight to Boston, leaving on Sunday, September 7 and returning on Saturday, September 20. That would give us a day when we got home to readjust to west coast time, read our mail, and do our laundry, before going back to work on Monday.
During our first week in the east, we planned to take an overnight trip to Saratoga Springs, New York, to visit Art’s daughter Laura, who is stationed there with the Navy. And, we wanted to take advantage of Smugglers Notch’s offering of a day trip to Montreal. The idea of driving across the border into a French-speaking area, then negotiating the streets of a major North American city, was not appealing, especially in a rental car. Climbing into a passenger van, being provided with an overview and with suggestions of what to see for six hours in Montreal, was more to my liking.
We’d be arriving late Sunday evening at Smugglers Notch. In our initial planning, we’d spend Monday in Stowe, a summer resort town and winter ski area. Tuesday we’d go to Montreal and Wednesday would be our day to explore the rural back roads. Thursday morning we’d leave for Saratoga Springs, allowing for a leisurely five-hour drive south through central Vermont. We’d return Friday evening, then spend Saturday doing laundry and resting in preparation for our daylong drive to Maine on Sunday.
For our trip to Saratoga Springs we decided to make reservations at a bed and breakfast. I did my research on the Internet to find just the right place. I learned, in my search, that Saratoga Springs is rather old, and has lots of Victorian-era houses that have been renovated into B&Bs. I sent my usual half dozen B&B availability inquiries.
The bed and breakfast I was hoping for was the Kings Ransom, a farmhouse on a large dairy farm. The webpage was simple and appealing, with a pastoral aerial photo/drawing of the property, and a single black and white cow. When I hadn’t heard back in three days on my inquiry, I called. The proprietor, Carolyn, apologized. They had had email problems. She informed me that yes, they did have room, and did I know they were a working dairy farm? I said yes, that was one of the reasons I wanted to stay there. Would it be possible to have a tour of the farm on our visit? Yes, she said, her husband could show me around, or she could if he was out of town. So I booked a room for the night of Thursday, September 11. I told her that on the second anniversary of the attack on the Twin Towers, it would be peaceful to be staying in the country.
I have an old friend, Sharon – a roommate in 1969, my senior year of college -- who lives south of Boston with her husband Bob. We’ve traveled some with Sharon and Bob in the past. When we first decided on our destination this year, we had invited them to join us for a couple of days in Vermont. I emailed Sharon two weeks before we were due to leave, letting her know our plans for the week.
She got right back to me. She said that she and Bob were planning on spending September 11 in New York City. She’s an amateur photographer and wanted to take pictures of the “Tribute in Light”. Located about a block from Ground Zero, the banks of 44 searchlights would be turned on that night. The twin towers of light are meant to represent the fallen twin towers of the World Trade Center. “That means”, she wrote, “That we’ll want to arrive on Sunday and leave on Wednesday morning. I assume you can change your daytrip to Montreal from Tuesday to Wednesday.”
Sharon has been assertive for all of the 35 years I’ve known her, but for some reason her direct approach still takes me by surprise. And she’s as much of a planner as I am. So I wrote back, sure, we can do Montreal on Wednesday. She responded, “We’ll want to do sightseeing on Monday around Stowe, maybe go to Ben and Jerry’s ice cream factory and the little antique shops around there.”
I didn’t much like this suggestion. Art and I are not antique people. When we visit an area we walk it, if possible, by means of a volkssmarch. That’s a 10k (6.2 mile) walk through, usually, the most visually appealing or interesting parts of the community. When Art and I do a volkssmarch in an area, we leave feeling that we “know” it in some way. Besides, I have been on Weight Watchers for a number of months, and my interest in a Ben and Jerry’s tour and sampling was not high. But I agreed to Sharon’s proposal anyway.
She emailed me the next morning to ask when we would be arriving. I told her we’d be leaving Boston at about 6pm, probably getting to Smugglers Notch at around 10:30. I suggested we meet in the lobby of the reception area. She replied, “We don’t want to hang around waiting for you to arrive. How about we just get there early and check in? The resort will probably allow that.”
Now, Sharon was still in planning mode, being practical. But when I read this email, I got up from my computer and stomped into the kitchen, where Art was preparing dinner. “Can you believe this? She wants to check in, plus make the plans for what we’ll do.” Art said, “Well, what’s the problem?” I said, “They’re the guests. It’s our timeshare. Why does she have to be the boss?” Art said, “She doesn’t. Tell her no if it bothers you so much.”
I sat back down at the computer, still fuming. I thought of several email responses, none of them positive and friendly. As I sat there, though, it occurred to me that I was the one with the problem. I was having a hard time saying no to something that bothered me.
Then I had an idea – a good one – so I figured the universe was coming to my rescue and giving me some wisdom. “I know,” I said to Art. “How about I ask her to do the grocery shopping, so when we get there we won’t have to go to the store?” He didn’t say anything. But then, he didn’t have the problem.
That’s what I proposed when I emailed Sharon. “Great idea for you to arrive early. How about you guys get the groceries and set up the condo?” She replied that would be fine, what should she buy? Art usually cooks when we get together, so I told her we’d be sending a list of ingredients for “Mongolian Grill” and a great recipe for pork roast.
As it turned out, the shopping was time consuming for Sharon. Midweek I got an email. “I’ve found everything but the cranberries and the mint. Should I keep looking?” I wrote back, “Yes.”
Seven days before we were due to leave, I got an email from Sharon saying they needed to change their plans somewhat. Bob’s 30-something daughter Kathleen had been living in New York City for several years, and they hadn’t seen her during that time. The weekend before, she’d called and said she wanted to come and stay with them for a while. Apparently the city had not been kind to her, and she needed a respite, time to sort things out. So, Sharon said, rather than canceling their planned visit with us, they’d simply bring her along.
I read the email twice. It felt like the universe was pushing on my sense of propriety, seeing how much I’d take before I pushed back.
I remembered at that moment someone telling me that if I respond to a situation, I’m being healthy, but if I react, I probably have an issue that needs looking at. I considered this business of other people making their plans “on my time”, and I examined why it was such a hot button for me.
I was raised in the military, which had a fairly strict code of expected social behavior. Inviting extra guests along, without first inquiring of the host whether those extras would be acceptable, is iffy at best in the etiquette department. Based on that upbringing, it would be reasonable to say no. But then I remembered how aggravating some of the strictures of the military environment were, how I’d tried to raise my own children to be more flexible and to acquire some of that trait myself.
Further, in the 35 years I have known Sharon, I’ve been the frequent beneficiary of her spontaneity and enthusiasm. Because of her “let’s do this” approach to travel, I’ve walked on the boardwalk in Venice, California, bought a timeshare, and traveled to China on a one-week bargain trip.
I discussed the extra guest situation with Art. He said I should either say no, or say nothing and be a good sport. I decided it wasn’t worth it to have an email argument with Sharon. Besides, I thought there was a reasonable chance that there would be an outbreak of some kind of conflict in her house during the first week the daughter was home. It’s hard to decide who has the harder time: the adult child returning, dependent, to the parents’ home, or the parents giving up their quiet, private life to take in a child in need. My guess was that the daughter would leave or refuse to come. Who in their right mind would want to travel six hours in a car with their parents, to stay two days in a condo with their parents’ friends? It was fairly safe, I thought, to say yes, and let the chips fall where they might.