June 7-8
We just spent two days getting to Tidewater Virginia. We’re sitting in a condo at a resort called Club Wyndham Patriots’ Place in Williamsburg.
We stayed one night, as usual, in North East, Md., because Harry doesn’t want to take any more 7- or 8-hour driving days.
We seem so far to have lucked out on timing. We planned the trip long before the air in New Jersey turned a sickly gray because of forest fires in Canada.
The air has gotten clearer—although not entirely clear—as we’ve headed south.
There was actual sunshine when we got out of the car in North East, Md.
High point of that first leg of the journey was lobster, crab cake, and oysters on the half shell at Woody’s Crab House in North East.
We shared a whole steamed lobster, two large crab cakes and a few veggies on the side.
Joanna wants no part of raw fish of any kind. So Harry had the oysters to himself.
A good time was had by all, except maybe for a number of shellfish.
Dante Chardonnay from California was a good match with the oysters. Hayes Ranch Cabernet Sauvignon, also from California, went well with the crab cakes, especially when they were dressed with hot sauce. It was fine with the lobster as well.
We had more visible smog on day two, but nothing like the reports of conditions in New York City and environs, including Montclair, N.J.
There were a lot of people out having fun crashing their cars, so we ran into a few traffic delays on I-95.
Somehow Harry missed the intersection south of Washington where I-95 and I-495 go their separate ways. How did he manage that? How many times has he driven this route?
God, it was embarrassing. And to top it off, the screwup brought us into a bumper-to-bumper crawl.
When we got to the bottleneck, we saw three or four lanes blocked by the police investigating an accident.
A ruined motorcycle and its debris covered the closed lanes. How could anyone survive that?
An SUV with a serious dent in the back was pulled up on the opposite shoulder. The apparent occupants were talking to a cop.
The next exit brought us to a U-turn opportunity over I-495, so we could go back to I-95 south. We had gone maybe two miles out of our way, but it had taken almost half an hour.
Getting to the hotel was a snap, once we got past the traffic backups.
When we moved into the condo, Harry had half a bottle of French Pinot Noir in his luggage. He put that on the kitchen table and declared himself right at home.
Google turned up a restaurant called Bistro 515, which turned out to be in the Holiday Inn about a tenth of a mile west of the entrance to our resort.
It had good reviews so we went there. Service was very good. The reviews had promised as much.
The food, on the other hand, was not as good. Joanna had a pork chop cooked on the bone, and that was OK, but the seasonal vegetables were like what you get from a caterer—pretty much tasteless.
Harry settled for fish and chips. The chips weren’t French fries, but ruffled potato chips, which the waitress said were made in-house. They were OK, but we can get better deep-fried cod in New Jersey.
The waitress and the bartender who covered the place were terrific.
Joanna’s pork chop first came covered with hot pepper. She had asked, as always, to have none. The waitress took it back to the kitchen without a murmur and brought a replacement when it was ready.
Instead of getting a second glass of wine, Harry bought a bottle of the house Pinot Noir, HWY 5 from California.
We spent a lot of the time in the car for the past couple of days so there isn’t much to write up. So that’s about it for now.
It’s hard to believe this is a Wyndham property. Don’t misunderstand. My favorite place to stay—what has essentially become my home—is a Wyndham property, La Quinta Inn in Fairfield, N.J.
But Wyndham properties are often mid- to down-scale, so I have to check reviews before I book an unknown location. This one was very well reviewed, and rightly so.
When the air clears, remember to get out for a breath of fresh air. But not until then.
Happy travels to all and to all a good night.
Harry and Joanna.
