Plymouth
- bramblymountainfarm
- 1 day ago
- 5 min read
This is the smallest camper we have ever used. And that is a bit unfortunate considering that all the children have grown significantly since our first road trip. We made attempts to purchase a bigger one before this trip, but it really came down to: we could afford a camper, or we could afford the trip, but we couldn’t do both. We decided that since we weren’t living in it for months at a time, surely we could make it work for 10 days. And hey, I said MANY times during the trip when complaints of tight quarters arose on rainy nights, it was still WAY BETTER than a tent. Especially in the rain.
The camper was actually a gift too. From our friends the Phillips who bought our Alaska camper from us. It has its issues and leaks and quirks and since they didn’t think it would be worth much, they let us take it. I’m grateful because the trip wouldn’t have been possible otherwise. Abbey, Hannah and Moriah on one bed, Malachi and Elias on the table turned twin bed, Tim and I and Zippy in another bed, and Micah on a foam pad on the floor. It’s tight but it works… for now. Unless the younger 4 stop growing, we won’t able to use it next time. But it got us to Maine.
Day 2 on the road was sadly just more road. And to miss Shenandoah. We got what we could out of just driving Skyline with helpful comments from our reluctant passenger (Micah) like “I hate to break it to you Mom, but we can see the same thing in our backyard” or “Why the heck did we drive all this way for the same scenery? This looks exactly like the Blue Ridge Parkway.” (Bc it IS the Blue Ridge Parkway)*
*A note to parents: You may think that you don’t want to start traveling until the kids are “old enough to appreciate it” but trust me, by the time you think they will be old enough to remember and “appreciate” the trip you meticulously, thoughtfully, expensively planned out for them, the only thing they will really want to do is be on their phones, talk with their friends on their phones, and go back home to be with their friends (on their phones). They regress to a state of whiny complaints and making trouble for whoever is in the vicinity, you know, like a typical 5 year old. And usually they carry a demeanor of passive, unimpressed, bored and underwhelmed. It makes for a fabulous trip mate. (Pro-tip most travel is best done between the ages of 8-13 when they can tie their own shoes, are still excited about most things and old enough to not whine too much).
Since we spent 13 hours to go 5 the day before, it was a bit hard to spend another 11 hours on the road to make it to Bellingham, MA. This would be our home base for the next few days so we could explore Plymouth, Boston and Cape Cod. Sadly a bit far - an hour and some - worth it to avoid spending the crazy fees at the closer campgrounds because we just have too many kids.
So our first day of something NOT just road tripping was actually my 45th birthday! And I was thrilled to spend it exploring Plymouth, an area I was excited to visit due to the fact that my grandmother 10 generations before had actually stepped off the Mayflower and was buried on Burial Hill. Mary Allerton gave birth to the first baby in the New World in the harbor (stillborn) and later died in her early 30s that first hard winter. She was buried in a mass grave under the cover of darkness so as not to give away to the Natives that half of the colonists had died. I also learned that Puritans never marked their graves with headstones as it was considered idolatrous. It may be marked by a simple log or rock to mark that a body was there, but that was all. It was considered wrong to memorialize people. Years later, in the 1700’s, a storm washed portions of the hill into the ocean, along with the Puritan’s remains, since the marker had long disappeared. They were placed in a large stone vault and inscribed with their names and the story of why they were there.
The Puritans would probably be rather appalled at the amount of memorializing the area now has to offer. In fact, Mary’s daughter, also Mary, married Thomas Cushman, son of the great Preacher Robert Cushman who was memorialized with one of the largest memorials in the cemetery because he was an advocate for the pilgrims. He returned to England the second year with a load of goods to be sold for profit and was captured by pirates and held captive on Barbados for a year. Once back in England, he worked hard to convey the plight of the pilgrims in the New World and tried to get more supplies, help, etc, sent over. He died before he was able to return to Plymouth. But my great-grandmother, Eliazabeth Cushman was a direct descendent. My kids were mildly interested as I shared the stories that I knew and dragged them around Plymouth to look at graves and markers, but I was thankful it was my birthday so I could shut up any complaints with, “It’s my birthday and I will not be rushed and I will enjoy myself!” Works pretty well.
They were SHOCKED that Plymouth Rock was so small and unimpressive, even though it was entombed in a gate house and the story behind it is only legend, not history. But we love our memorials….
We made a stop at Plimouth Pataxet living history museum too, another place I’ve always wanted to visit. I had fun mentioning I was a decedent to the volunteers because I was suddenly a bit of a rockstar. “Are you serious?” The lady asked and I insisted I was. And then it was spread about, “we have a decendent here today! We always loved to have decendents visit. You should meet Isaac Allerton (the guy playing my great-grandfather) who we got a photo with :). So fun stuff all around. Tim bought me a vase to commemorate the day and the history.
It POURED on the way back to the campground and we discovered a new leak in the very old canvas. Right over Malachi and Elias’s bed and the table. So that night Elias had to curl up on the “couch” so Malachi could sleep on the dry side of the bed. He only toppled off once (it’s a bit narrow, poor kid. No wonder there have been dark circles under his eyes).