Adventure #15: Sharon, CT (Days 3 and 4)
I woke up early in my linen closet Thursday morning and decided to go hiking. We headed down to Lion's Head Peak which was just outside the center of town. The path took me through the a few people's farms which is always a little strange. “Hello, I'm just wandering through your back yard. Pay no attention to me!” On the way we passed by a big fence labeled “US Boundary.” My best theory is that there's a wormhole in northwestern Connecticut that leapfrogs Massachusetts and Vermont and lands you right at the Canadian border. Neat. This is Pen Pen clandestinely entering Canada.
The mountain was much more wooded than the paths around Papingo. Trees sprouted up through the rocks and roots grew over them. I can only assume Guilemo Del Toro uses it as his research material. I had to be back at the theatre in the afternoon, so after I reached the peak, We headed back down and got lunch. This is Pen Pen being attacked by the roots which guard the peak.
There's basically no food in Sharon. There are farms everywhere, but there are maybe 3 restaurants. All of them have only token vegetarian options. I've consumed enough eggplant parm in my life that I can probably die happy never having it again. As such I've been living on gas station egg salad sandwiches. As of yet, the microscopic worms have not made me able to play the holophonor, but I think it takes a few days for that to kick in. Only time will tell. This is Pen Pen feasting on the best the gas station has to offer.
We headed back out during dinner break, having seen a sign for the Mohawk Trail earlier. The trail went from the side of Route 4 up to a peak then back down to another highway. This is the shortcut the Mohawks used to ambush Connecticut settlers in their unnecessary SUVs. On the way, We passed over a babbling brook. My hopes were briefly up for an Indiana Jones bridge, but there was no bridge of any kind; Indiana Jones or otherwise. This is Pen Pen sad to realize he has no use for a fedora or whip on this adventure.
On the drive home that night, I noticed a sign advertising boat rentals on the lake. So the next morning I got up and decided to investigate. There were a few sail boats docked, but they had only motor boats for rent, so I declined. As an avid dinosaur aficionado, I try to avoid burning their bones when not necessary. Instead I had breakfast at the tiny restaurant near the boat house and read for a bit. This is Pen Pen contemplating just stealing a boat.
The show opened, and there was a late night of drinking and talking UConn with Ed. Saturday morning I said goodbye to my linen closet, and got on the road to head back to New York. On the way, I passed by a farm that had blueberry picking. Visions of blueberry pancakes danced in my head, so I pulled over. Sometimes I forget that I look kind of strange, and it took me a little while to put together why the older woman in the little trailer was so uneasy letting me loose in her fields. I guess she doesn't get many 6'1” punks with pink mohawks, orange nails, and stuffed penguins picking blueberries at 9 in the morning on a Saturday. Her loss. This is Pen Pen being a gathering type of hunter gatherer.
This is a song I wrote this one time. You should download it and share it with your friends.
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