Ghosts, Castles, and GPS

As with most of the motorcycle vacations, Judy and I plan at least two destinations. Both are plotted and booked ahead of time. Then a close eye is kept to the weather for the two (or more) destinations. A day or two before departure, the weather is extensively searched, and whichever objective looks to be friendliest in terms of weather. Our heading is toward that journey’s end.
Our quest for our vacation site began months prior to the actual date of the week of Memorial Day. I was down to my last few hours of vacation time and the time off given for Memorial Day was to add to those hours.
Two points of interest and two routes were searched and studied. One to the north, around the Finger Lakes region of New York, extending to the Saint Lawrence River. The other was a southern route riding down the Blue Ridge Mountains on the Sky Line Drive. (We had ridden on the Sky Line Drive on a previous vacation, but were turned back half way down, due to a forest fire.)
About a week before departure, the weather for both headings began to look bleak. Rain to the north and a hurricane forming and churning in the Gulf of Mexico, was threatening the south.
Day after day, the weather for both destinations was checked several times a day, almost hourly. We were about to call it quits and a wash-out, and book a flight to the desert south west, when a check of the weather the day before departure, saw a change to the north, calling for clearing skies, and to the south, more rains were predicted, along with heavy down pours and possible flooding. The next day we were heading north, on our new 2017 Harley Road King.
It has been our experience in the past to rely on good old paper and ink maps for our planning and traveling. We have found the modern electronic GPS to be unreliable, confusing, and with a tendency to take the traveler on the most obscure and out-of-the-way routes.
This trip though, we decided to give the GPS another try, and pressed Judy’s “Smart Phone” into service. (I’ve always questioned to the reason for attaching the term “smart” to a device as bothersome and interrupting to daily life as a damn phone. When I am appointed “King of the World”, phones and their usage will be regulated tighter than any gun laws, and their time usage will be set to thirty seconds of conversation and two outgoing texts per usage. They will also be banned from most public places. Their use while driving, will be a hanging offense.)
All was going well as we traveled on some back roads, which led us through some beautiful country sides. That is, until we got to the town of “Friendship” New York. The town entrance and greeting were proclaimed by a small but charming oval shaped blue sign, bearing gold lettering. The town looked to be of a few hundred residents, to perhaps a thousand. One could probably ride through the length of the town in a few minutes time, during rush hour.
It was at the entrance of town, that the GPS advised us to turn left, for a more northern advancement. We dutifully obeyed the electronic idiot.
At first, the road and ride were nice, with more country scenery to behold as we rode. But as we traveled further and deeper into the country side, the road began to worsen. Upheavals, bumps, and sharp turns made me wonder if we shouldn’t have turned around long ago. The road began to take on the look of hastily laid pavement and oil topping, over a dirt and rock base. It was a road better suited for a three hundred pound, on/off road, bike than an eight hundred pound plus touring machine, laden with two passengers and luggage.
The GPS said we were on the right route and that we should stay the course. Like mindless drones, we obeyed the computer master.
It was about forty-five minutes of twists, turns, bumps and strenuous maneuvers, before we finally came to a crossroad where we could catch our breath, and take our bearings.
I looked to my right and couldn’t believe what I saw. There was a familiar blue and gold oval sign, taunting me with the name” Friendship”. We had made a forty-five-minute loop, from one end of the town around to the other.
As if the torturous loop wasn’t bad enough, we traveled a little further, and we were on I-86. This was a road we were very familiar with, from many previous trips north into New York. Had we stuck with our trusted, tried and true, old fashioned, ink and paper map and our familiarity of the routes, we would have saved a couple of hours’ time and many miles of travel. From now on, I declare banishment of any form of electronic guided travel.
Once we found our heading and re-plotted the roads, our next stop would be the halfway point to our destination of the town of Alexandria, New York. It was another small, quaint town in New York called Naples.
Being the Memorial Day weekend, rooms to rent were hard to come by, but luck was such that an inn by the name of simply “Naples Hotel”, had a room for our first night and a second room for our subsequent stay the following evening. Luckily, we had booked the hotel a week or so before departing.
Upon our arrival we pulled up to the very old and very well-kept inn, on the main street of town. Three stories with a restaurant, bar, and second bar in the basement that served only wines and spirits made in New York and especially those made in that region. The hotel holds a small, but important, piece of history. It was once the venue for a speech by Robert Kennedy.
Once inside we were greeted by the bar tender/maître d’/manager who looked to be almost twenty-five. He showed us to our room for the evening. Before opening the door, he inquired as to our reason for booking. We told him this was about half way to our destination, and the only place that had a room for the evening. He then looked at us both and stated frankly, “You know this place is haunted.” And that this room was the most haunted of them all. Well, that explained the easy availability of the room.
But Judy was not amused and wanted to leave right away. The manager assured us, that the spirits finding quarters within those old walls, were neither evil, nor ill tempered, and that the most people experience are strange noises, objects being moved, and in a very rare instance, glowing orbs floating freely.
Judy was still not pacified and continued her want to leave. I, on the other hand, was far too tired to look for anywhere else that might have rooms for rent. Besides, being neither believer nor pessimist, I was a bit intrigued at the idea of perhaps experiencing the supernatural. So, with some gentle coaxing and the promise to leave at the first unnatural phenomenon, we stayed in the most haunted room of the haunted hotel.
Each room of the haunted hostelry was given a name corresponding to the decor of that room. Our room was clad in ancient Japanese motif and given the name “SAKI”. The dark lifeless Japanese paintings which hung on the walls along with elephant statuary and dark drab walls, did make for an eerie appearance to the room.
There was a band booked to play in the lobby downstairs, and after checking out the room for any unwelcome guests, we retreated to the bar and listened to the band play some of the worst renditions of classic rock favorites I had ever heard. Even after a “7 and 7” and a margarita, they never improved so we called it a day and went to our room.
Once in bed, I tried to turn on the TV, but was greeted with the warning that the channels we selected could not be found and to contact the cable service provider. Since I did not select any channels and had no idea just who provided cable service to the area, I went to sleep, thinking the spirits are as sick of the current state of news reporting as I am, and didn’t care to watch anymore.
The next morning, I awoke from one of the most restful night’s sleep I had in quite a while. Neither hearing or seeing apparition or phantom. Judy stated that she too never heard or saw anything out of the ordinary, though she kept her eyes closed all through the night, even when not asleep.
We were on our way out of the room and heading for some breakfast across the street that morning, when we saw the house keeper and we started up a friendly conversation with her.
We asked her about the spirits that roam these premises and if she had ever experienced anything paranormal. She explained that there were three known spirits. One named “Topper” who was a runaway slave and was found hanged. The others were two unnamed children of a mother accused of murdering them.
In the four years she had been cleaning for the owners of the hotel, she had only experienced one paranormal activity.
She had been doing some “deep cleaning”, as she called it, and was helping to switch the old television sets over to the more modern ones that now occupy each room.
About a year and a half ago she and her helper were moving a TV and lamp, when the TV set was thrown to the floor and the lamp was thrown in the direction of her helper, but never caused her any injury. This was her first and only experience. Apparently, the spirits don’t like change or modern technology. I reasoned this to be the cause for them leaving Judy and I alone. The spirits and I think alike.
That morning we had a relaxing breakfast at a little coffee shop across the street from the Naples Hotel, called “The Grainery”. Afterwards we spent the day touring the little shops in town and going for a ride around the nearby lake. For supper we dined at a farm-to-table restaurant, which was converted from a two-story home and bore the name of “Roots Café”.
The next morning, we were on our way a little earlier than usual. There was to be a parade in town that morning, and main street was to be blocked off to traffic and parking. We wanted to get out of town before being trapped in the festivities.
It was well into the morning and many miles north of Naples and our poltergeist guest house, when I happened to look down at my speedometer and to my horror, I saw that Clyde was missing!
(Clyde, for those of you not familiar with my writings, is a plastic caricature statue. He was given to me by my son when I started my job at my present place of employment in 2000. He brought it home one day, after enjoying a “Happy Meal” and found Clyde buried among the fries. That was some 17 years ago, and now that seven-year-old boy is a man with family of his own. (Where does time go?) Clyde lived for years in the darkness of my tool box at work. But since 2010 he has been glued to all my motorcycles, ahead of the gas tank and pointing the way. He has been my constant companion and good luck charm on many motorcycle voyages, through many thousands of miles.)
My mind went into a panic mode. To lose Clyde would be like losing a part of me and my son’s early years. Thoughts of turning around and scanning the road side, were not out of the question. There too, thoughts were entertained of calling off the trip and returning home. I felt helpless after losing such a tried and trusted friend, and good luck charm. I couldn’t believe Clyde was gone, and I had lost him.
Just then I happened to look down again at the spot where Clyde once stood, and I saw a very small plastic arm, reaching out from my gas tank, as if to reach for help. Clyde had wedged himself between the gas tank and the top of the triple tree. (That’s the pivot point for the steering and the place where the front forks are attached to the frame.)
Faster than a karate masters hand, I snatched Clyde from his unstable perch and tucked him away in my coat pocket, until he could be reattached after we return home.
With Clyde safe in my pocket and the rest of the day ahead of us, I leaned back into the safety of my wife. Relaxing my body, and freeing my mind, I tuned my mind into the deep rumble of the machinery beneath me. I was free. I was serene in my being and in my thoughts. The pavement ahead is as calming to me as a tall sailing vessel on a calm ocean.
We arrived at our destination of Alexandria New York in the early afternoon. Once we unloaded the bike and checked into our hotel room, we had a chance to walk around town and plot our itinerary for next couple days.
We ate our dinner that night at a little eatery and bar just below our hotel. It was literally built into the edge of a large rock face and sat on the water of the St. Lawrence River. From our table, I was able to touch and inspect the rock face that provided the foundation for the building.
After dinner we inspected the town for any quaint shops and took note of any activities we might engage in during our visit in the following days.
It was a little after five in the evening when we strolled down the street that most of the tourist trappings were on. We found it quite strange, that most of the stores and shops had closed for the day and even stranger still that all the restaurants and watering holes were closed by nine p.m. The town seemed to have rolled up the street, turned the lights out, and went to bed. This was reminiscent of my own home town and the similar small towns of the area that Judy and I call home.
Walking by the large pier, we saw several touring boats belonging to a franchise called “Uncle Sam’s Tours”. Spotting the ticket office, we saw brochures outside the closed hut, describing the outing the vessels took passengers on.
One such excursion was a tour of the surrounding area and islands, with a stop at a large structure called “Boldt Castle” and the island it sat on, called “Heart Island”. We thought it would be an interesting junket to take and to learn about the local area and especially the history of the castle. So, we set our minds to taking the tour the next day and headed up the abandoned street, toward our hotel.
We awoke the next morning, eager to tour the area by boat and had a continental breakfast at the hotel. (Not much can be said about hotel breakfasts. It’s food. Though the coffee was acceptable.)
It was 10 A.M. by the time we were on our tour of the islands. The day was slightly cool and the skies clear as we toured the islands and listened to our tour guide explain the history and customs of the area.
We reached Heart Island about an hour into the tour and departed the tour boat for an awe-inspiring trip through the castle and the surrounding island.
Boldt Castle was built at the turn of the century, by George C. Bolt as a gift to his beloved wife. It is a six-story structure with 120 rooms. There are tunnels under the castle, as well as a powerhouse, children’s playhouse and a dove cote. The whole island and structures contained within are magnificent.
Unfortunately, before it could be completed, Mrs. Boldt died. Deep in grief, George Boldt ordered all construction to cease immediately and all personal to leave the island. Mr. Boldt simply walked away from the island and castle, and never returned.
The castle was left to the elements, vandals, and vagabonds, including hippies in the sixties, who took over the once glorious stone homage to Mrs. Bolt. They burned much of the fine woodwork and historical remnants, for heat. The castle became a deteriorating shell of its glorious past.
In 1977 the island and castle were purchased by the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority, with the promise that only ninety five percent of the island and structure be restored, as that was the percentage of the castle that was completed when all work abruptly ceased. Restoration began and today much of the structure is back to its glorious self, with much more to be restored.
Before pictures at the start of each room or space, show the way the castle was before restoration. It truly sickens the mind and heart to see just how little care or thought was given to its history and magnificence.
This little-known area is a vacation spot I would encourage anyone to visit. Just make sure you have bought all your souvenirs by five pm. and all food and drink before nine pm.
Our final day in the area, Judy and I took a ride around the islands on a wooden hulled replica of an antique speed boat which held a dark secret. Being an amateur and novice motor head, I asked to see the power plant of the vessel we had just ridden in. The “skipper” smiled as he lifted the hatch to reveal a turbo charged, 454 cubic inch Chevy, growling angrily at us. You could tell the behemoth motor was just begging to be taken out into open waters and be allowed to show what it could do. Now *THAT* was cool!!
Our journey home was quiet and uneventful. Solo, I could have easily made the trek home in one day, but it is a challenge for Judy to put that many grueling miles on the back of a motorcycle in one day, so we planned a stopover in Geneva N.Y. With a possible second night’s stay, due to rain in the forecast.
A walk along the lake-front and a stop for ice cream, made that evening relaxing and enjoyable.
I was the first to awaken the next morning, and a look out the window, revealed no rain. But a check of the local weather showed a front moving in about early to midafternoon.
I asked Judy to check the weather for our home area and the forecast was clear in our home town. So, it was jointly decided to save the next nights room fee and make a run for home, hopefully beating the incoming rains.
If it did rain at all, it would be the first inclement weather my new bike would encounter, and she was duly christened about two hours into the ride home. Fortunately, we were in an area where we pulled into a fast food franchise and waited out the rains while dinning on hot chili to warm up our damp bodies.
We made it home later that day, without encountering any further precipitation and making promise to one another, to revisit Boldt Castle in a few years, to see the progress made to the awe-inspiring wonder.