There's too many platitudes about the open road. Most of them are sappy, and most of the rest are lazy. There's a few good ones (sure, Kerouac and all). Practically, one of my favorite moments is stepping out of the car.

These days, my back is about twenty years ahead of the rest of me, so thank God when I finally get there (highway rest stops are for the weak). As I stand next to the car doing road-yoga, I love to listen to the thick silence of the country; it's a welcome change from tire roar, wind, road expansion joints and the Joe Rogan podcast. 

I arrived in upstate New York prepared for a photo workshop at an abandoned zoo, which was called off on account of a deluge. No matter; with rain comes prettier waterfalls. Perhaps as importantly, this was a trip outside of the NYC metro area. Cancelled workshop be damned; if it involves a trip outside of the biggest population cluster in the Northeast, I'm in. 

The Kaaterskill Falls, located just a short (but intense) hike into the Catskills of Greene County, is a sight to behold. The last time I witnessed this kind of thunderous rush of water was clear across the country in the Columbia River gorge. It's been a while, but the wait was worth it. 

If you've been reading my posts for a while, you'll know that I recently dumped my Nikon full-frame camera system for the compact Fujifilm X-T2 mirrorless camera (and lenses). No regrets yet, folks. The entire kit is feather-light and the camera makes remarkable images. 

Cascade images in the bag, I took a four-hour interstate hop over to Maine for the next few nights, with two intents: getting another image of the crab boats at Cape Porpoise, and exploring Portland as a place to live.

Without wishing to get too ahead of myself, it's looking good. 

As much as it's given me for the last thirty years, I can feel my time in the NYC area coming to a close. I can't speak to an exact timeline, but I suppose "soon" is the overused word that fits best. Plans can always change, but the effects that Maine and the Catskills have on me are starting to far outweigh the benefits of living near (or in) the glass-and-brick canyons of the Big Apple. 

Visits to the regions almost aren't enough -- they're pulling at me. 

But that could just be the lingering back pain from the drive. Time will tell.