Fossils! The fossils in the area have delighted me. Walking along with my hammer I can see 1000's of marine fossils dating back to 500 millions years ago in the Cambrian era. During this time, New York State was at the equator and covered by a shallow warm ocean. I chipped away a couple of nicer specimens to take back, however to be honest there was one boulder that was simply covered with fossilized sponges and brachiopods that I wanted to haul home with me. However, they probably wont let me take it on the train.
Train conductor: Hey boy, what you got there? Me: (Charlie brown voice) I got a rock.
I wanted to go down for some more but last night a large thunderstorm blew threw the area. I was annoyed because my parent's giant black dog is terrified of thunder and ended up whining, pacing the little trailer, and trying to jump into bed with me. The next morning I wanted to sleep late but my mom was up at the god-awful crack of dawn banging things around in the 'kitchen', which happens to be about two feet from where I sleep. I woke up to her loudly asking if she had women me up and when I said 'no' she offered me breakfast.
The next day the level of the river had risen, and I could no longer walk over to the exposed limestone wall where I had harvested my fossils. No trilobites for me.
During the day my mother and I took a ride over to the town of Old Forge, which was a pleasant contrast to the depressing little town of Booneville that our current campsite is next to. Old Forge is filled with neat little shops and restaurants and sights to see. I picked myself up some fir incense and some Pine scented soap.
Later that afternoon when we were back at the trailer some old geezer that lived a couple of trailers away (and knows everything) came over to inform me that after a big rain and using a worm as bait it was 'impossible' to catch a fish in that river. Using a pole I borrowed from my uncle and a fat nightcrawler, I went down to the river and within 30 minutes had caught myself a nice fat trout. I brought it back to the campsite Intending to clean it and eat it, but my mom saw the flopping fish in my hand and screeched 'throw it back in the river!'. Annoyed, I did so. Later on my Uncle showed up and wanted to see my fish. When I told him I had thrown it back in the rover he looked at me like I was an idiot. Sigh.
The cabin seems to be coming along good. It was supposed to be nearly finished by now, however the construction crew has been taking their sweet time. Thus I have been staying here in the trailer. I could go out and camp on the land, but to be honest camping in the woods is one thing, camping in a construction site does not hold a lot of appeal for me.
Tomorrow I am going to do a little early fishing and then go for a car ride to visit my old roommate, who lives in a small town about three hours from my current location. Friday night, the night before I leave for my train ride, I decided to get a hotel in the town of Booneville so I could sleep in a proper bed and have a good shower before my trip. The few hotels in Booneville are amazingly old, dating back to the 1800's and some of them looking like they have not been repaired since that time. Some yokel who lives in the campground (every hour or so we have some yokel to stop by and yak at us, that's trailer park life) informed me that local legend claims that one of the hotels I was looking at was known to be haunted. I might stay in it, but to be honest I'm a bit of a puss about things like that. As much as I like ghosts I have a highly overactive imagination and I can just picture myself in some hotel room with the covers up to my nose and my eyes darting back and fourth at every creak and groan that the room might emit.
But, then again, the hotel has a bar in it so chances are I would be so lubed up that any ghosts I might see I would probably offer to buy a drink.
2026 Update
Dialing the infernal machine back to a buggy summer trailer in 2007, where Ed fights his mother over a trout and almost befriends a ghost.
What a relic—a world where you just walked along with a hammer and chipped fossils out of public rocks, no app, no permit, no geologist on TikTok telling you that you’ve ruined the stratigraphy for clout. The trains were still trains, but you had to actually talk to a conductor and deliver a Charlie Brown punchline. In 2026 that whole boulder conversation would be a livestream: “GUYS watch me try to smuggle a Cambrian sponge node through Penn Station.” His campground expertise came from yokels wandering over to yak; now it’s from a review site where every hotel is either a haunted boutique or a QR code to check in. His mother’s breakfast-table screech about the fish is charmingly analog—today the fish would be returned with a QR tag and a sad Instagram post. And look at him planning a proper bed and shower before his train ride, as if that isn't exactly what I’d sell my soul for now, except the “proper” part is now just another subscription tier.
“2007 Ed, after all that hassle with the trout and the thunder dog, why did you let your mother send that beautiful fish back into the river when your uncle was right there ready to judge you—and what exactly were you going to tell the haunted Booneville hotel bar ghost when it asked what you were drinking?” — Beelzebubba the Third
2007 Ed: Well, Beelzebubba, you've got me dead to rights. The truth is, my mom has this screech that cuts right through whatever backbone I think I have. That fish was flopping and beautiful, and I honestly wanted to eat it, but the second she hollered “throw it back!” I just… obeyed. I'm a grown man, I chipped fossils out of a cliff, but around my mother I turn into a twelve-year-old who forgot to take out the trash. So yes, the trout went back, and my uncle looked at me like I'd just failed a basic test of manhood. I deserved it. As for the haunted Booneville hotel ghost, if it shuffled up to my barstool and asked what I was drinking, I'd probably say “whiskey, neat, because I'm scared shitless,” and then offer to buy it one too, provided it didn't possess my luggage first.
