We were anxious to get rolling north and crossed into New York and were into Connecticut before we knew it. We had hear good things about Mystic, so we made a detour south along the coast to see the two little towns that make up the area. Lots of people milling about and plenty of touristy stores. Nice enough, but we didn’t see much reason to linger and just kept rolling. We ended up at a state park in Rhode Island for the night and it had to be one of our worst camping experiences in recent memory. The neighbor making cat-calls at Angela was annoying enough, but when he started vomiting at 2 AM and then making a ruckus at 4 AM to go fishing, we were all pretty much done with the place. Easy enough to escape.
We decided to swing by Plymouth Rock on our way to Boston, as most people seem to do.
Even though most campsites around southern Massachusetts seemed to be booked solid, we easily found spots at both state parks on either side of Boston. We went into town and explored, walked the Freedom Trail, earned a junior ranger badge and ate some pizza in Little Italy. It was ridiculously hot, but we still had a great time. Cool city.