A Fall Visit to the Orchards of Warwick, NY
Is it even fall if you don’t drive upstate for the sole-purpose of overindulging in apple products?
"There's a great big hunk of world down there, with no fence around it." – Lady and the Tramp
Is it even fall if you don’t drive upstate for the sole-purpose of overindulging in apple products?
Queue “Silver Bells” by Bing Crosby.
October is just a day away and the season of Instagram-worthy apple orchards, haunted attractions, and corn mazes are officially upon us.
The banging of drums sounds from one end of the village to the other. The thick, humid air smells of boerewors and curry. A few steps away stands the entrance to the Harambe Wildlife Reserve, where you just came within yards of lions, warthogs, and as many as thirty different types of wild animals. The signs on the walls, some in Swahili, seem to say “Welcome to East Africa.”
Whenever I mention working for a travel agency, nine times out of ten I’ll receive a confused look followed by “people still use travel agents?” For some reason, the rise in technology and convenient online booking services like Expedia and Booking.com have led people to assume that travel agents are obsolete.
Old Orchard Beach has gone through various transitions throughout its long history, at one point being home to a racetrack, the area of which was purchased in 1952; and even spent five years as the home to an Animal Fair. But many parts of its historic past still remain: Pier Fries has been feeding visitors for almost a century, and the Old Orchard Beach Pier has been a hangout for beachgoers since 1898!
Our quick, long-weekend trip to Maine was originally planned with the intent of checking off our last Northeastern state.
I have yet to visit a new place without leaving a little more enlightened or changed for the better, and I hope that continues to be a common theme throughout my travels.
“Wanna go hiking tomorrow? I heard there’s a place in Cold Spring with some ruins?”
The sound of the plane’s engines seemed louder than usual, though not much more than the snoring of the couple seated behind me. We were 40,000 feet in the air and as I sat cramped in my window seat, head on the window and legs curled up into some yoga-like position, all I could hear was my voice asking “How did I get here?”