It says "Spectacular views, clean comfortable rooms" on the page, and the part after the comma is sort of right. Mostly right. But the "spectacular view" is very definitely right. Out my back window, I see some very spectacular lit up truck-trailers zooming south on I-81. What could be better?
But I shouldn't complain. Drove 300 miles or more today, some off it off the highway on a gorgeous road through Goshen, where at times it was lined with trees that looked like glass. Ice on the bare branches, that's why. And the sun through the ice. It's lucky there was hardly any traffic on the road, because I kept stopping to take photographs with my trusty Pentax, and there was rarely a shoulder to pull off on, so I was stopping right on the road.
The road took me to the not-quite-throbbing town of Covington, and some miles outside I found what I had driven all day for: Humpback Bridge, an old covered bridge over the Dunlap River dating to 1835. Looked much like the bridge Clint Eastwood tries to photograph in Bridges of Madison County, but covered with graffiti. Yes, Chris loves Cyndi loves Chris, and Don Lawhorne is a faggot, and Weirdo Was Here 4-1-90, and Do Not Give Up Hope USA 5/21/06: all on this charming bridge surrounded by snow, arching over a tinkling stream, parallel to a much bigger rail bridge, and drenched in late-afternoon sunlight on a bitterly cold day. My hands were aching with the cold by the time I gazed at all the graffiti. Then I remembered my gloves, idling in the car.
The spectacular views are also next to Fancy Hill Restaurant. "Very good restaurant", said Mr Patel the proprietor of the views. Also the only restaurant for miles, but let that pass. So I went over to eat, the only customer amid two dozen tables. On the far wall, hundreds of license plates from all over the US. BTI 426 to BUFFY D to IM WOMN to WHOA NOW to R 90.
And no, my hands didn't ache by the time I gazed at them all. Had my gloves with me, just in case.