The Great New England Road Trip: Days 8-9, Meacham Lake and the Farmer Boy’s Farm
Day 8 – Across New York to Meacham Lake
Leaving Letchworth wasn't easy. We'd fallen in love with the Genesee River Valley - or, as it was once known, "the Land of the Great Falling Waters." Between the waterfalls, the deep gorge, and all the unexpected history, it had become one of our favorite stops of the trip. But another adventure was waiting farther north, so after one last morning in camp, it was time to hitch up and hit the road.
Of course, no travel day begins in our family without a proper breakfast. Caleb whipped up a mountain of homemade pancakes alongside bacon, eggs, and plenty of maple syrup before everyone scattered to finish packing. Once breakfast was over, there was the usual round of cousin negotiations over who would ride in which vehicle. After several successful "cousin switcheroos," our little caravan finally rolled out toward the Adirondacks.
The drive across upstate New York was peaceful. Farms, forests, and small towns slipped past the windows while some of us listened to Indian Captive by Lois Lenski, enjoying the story even more knowing we had just visited the very valley where much of it takes place.
One detail about New York's small towns especially caught our attention. Many of the communities display banners along their main streets featuring photographs of local veterans under the title "Hometown Heroes." It was a simple but meaningful tribute, and more than once we found ourselves saying that every town in America ought to do something similar.
Otherwise, it was exactly the kind of travel day we love most. There were songs, conversations, plenty of laughter between cousins, and an obligatory stop for fresh bagels when we happened upon a bakery along the way.
By early evening we arrived at Meacham Lake Campground and immediately felt as though we'd stepped into another era. The old stone buildings, towering pines, and beautiful lake reminded us of the classic Hayley Mills version of The Parent Trap. It felt like the kind of summer camp where lifelong memories are made.
Our campsite was enormous—possibly the biggest we've ever had—and our cousins were camped directly across from us. Before long, hamburgers and hot dogs were sizzling on the grill while everyone eagerly swapped stories from the day's drive.
As darkness settled over the campground, we gathered around the campfire until the stars appeared overhead. A few of the kids decided to sleep outside that night, hoping to enjoy the cool Adirondack air.
Not long after bedtime, strange calls echoed across the lake. There may have been a little concern that wolves or coyotes were roaming nearby.
Thankfully, we were able to reassure everyone that the mysterious sounds belonged to loons, not predators. Once that mystery was solved, the campers drifted off to sleep with one of the most beautiful sounds in the North Country echoing across the water.
Day 9 – Walking Through Farmer Boy
Some places on this trip made the itinerary because they looked beautiful. Others because they were historically significant. But visiting Almanzo Wilder's childhood home was one of the reasons we planned the trip northeast in the first place.
Before setting out, however, breakfast once again took center stage. Our cousins prepared incredible breakfast burritos on the Blackstone, and somehow it felt entirely appropriate to enjoy a hearty meal before visiting the home made famous in Farmer Boy. Anyone who has read Laura Ingalls Wilder's classic knows it's nearly impossible to make it through a chapter without becoming hungry.
If you've never read Farmer Boy, you should. It's one of the finest windows into nineteenth-century American farm life ever written, and one of Caleb's favorite books growing up. Today it's become a favorite of several of our children as well.
In fact, the book had such an influence on Caleb that ever since he was young, he's wanted breakfasts worthy of the Wilder family table. Brigette, on the other hand, has never been much of a breakfast person. Thankfully for Caleb, their children inherited his enthusiasm for big breakfasts, so there's no shortage of pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits, and breakfast experiments happening around our house.
Walking through the Wilder home felt almost surreal. We stood in the very dining room where Almanzo enjoyed the legendary meals described throughout the book and wandered through the kitchen where his mother prepared feast after feast. Reading Farmer Boy is practically a culinary experience, with page after page describing roast pork, fried chicken, biscuits, pies, preserves, butter, cakes, sausage, apples and onions, ice cream, and of course, Mother's famous twisted doughnuts. The beautifully organized butler's pantry just off the kitchen was enough to make any home cook a little envious.
Outside, the barns have been reconstructed, but they still provide a wonderful picture of the farm where Almanzo grew up. From there we followed the path down to Trout River, where Almanzo and his father caught trout for Mother to fry in cornmeal, just as Laura described.
There was only one disappointment: no Farmer Boy restaurant. Surely someone in Malone should remedy this immediately. At the very least, a little stand selling Mother's famous twisted doughnuts would have had no trouble convincing us to buy a dozen.
Since doughnuts weren't an option, we happily settled for ice cream instead. A friend back in Huntsville who grew up just down the road from Almanzo's farm recommended Bokie's, and it proved to be the perfect treat stop. Even better, he told us his grandmother had actually lived in Almanzo's very house for a time. It's always fun when history suddenly becomes connected to someone you know personally.
Back at Meacham Lake that afternoon, everyone finally had time to enjoy the water. The lake was crystal clear, yet carried a beautiful orange tint from the naturally occurring iron in the surrounding area. In fact, tiny flecks of iron actually collected on the magnetic back of Henry's watch while he was swimming, making for an unexpected science lesson.
That evening, our final campfire together with our cousins felt especially meaningful. As steaming mugs of Minty Midnight warmed our hands, conversation drifted from the adventures we'd shared over the past several days to the stories of Alaska they had been exploring with their own family. It made us realize that while Alaska is definitely moving higher on our travel wish list…it's also a very, very long drive.
As the fire slowly burned down, we found ourselves grateful for one more evening together before the next chapter of the journey would send each family in a different direction.
