Thursday, June 10, 2010


I'm sure this doesn't surprise anyone that Marthas Vineyard is a playground for the well heeled. We sat in the ferry terminal to be loaded with the trucks and watched as this woman took her horse to line up. Bus after bus load of people loaded onto the ferry. And this is still the off season. We were jammed in the ferry so tightly, Jim had four inches on one side and six on the other while I held my breath sure we were scraping the truck next to us. We couldn't open the door, (nor could anyone next to us,) to get out and walk around for the 40 minute ride. Makes me shiver at the thought of being trapped in a motor home should something go terribly wrong.
On the island, we drove around and gawked a bit before we got to our campsite. Jim just got the bikes hooked to the back of the Bronco before the rain started. Even so, the difference in this place and New Bedford is starkly apparent. Both have beautiful harbors, but this is play land and New Bedford is a working town. The wealth of nations is always built on the backs of the working man. New Bedford, the wealthiest city in the world at one time, has a history of those men in their Seaman's Bethel. Here, seaman came to pray before they stepped aboard their boats and kissed their sweethearts goodbye. When they didn't return, they placed engraved plates in the Bethel to honor and remember them. There were many, many of these/

No comments: