Intercourse: Not as Racy as NASCAR, But Fun

Quite a few Pennsylvania towns have evocative names.  Among them are Blue Ball, Shickshinny, Virginville, Climax, and our destination, Intercourse.   It was named in 1813, as Intercourse at the time meant a commercial or trading site or a gathering site for community.  According to a sign in the town, there was an attempt to change the name back to Cross Keys, which was its name before renaming.  But those wiley Amish were smart; would you drive out of your way to say you visited Cross Keys?  Nah, didn't think so.  But Intercourse?  Well, that's another story altogether.   I heard that their signposts are the most frequently stolen of any town.    I believe it!

The countryside is seriously beautiful; full of verdant farms with unbelievable black dirt just begging to have your fingers run through it.  The little tourist trap area we visited was okay and we did have a great meal and some good purchases at Stoltzfus' deli.  Oh, and the canning factory across the street was a lovely tasting party of pickled beets, chow chow, and sweet pickles.  I am a huge fan of canned foods and could have stayed there all day.  We got away with three jars of heaven.

On the other side of the road, we stopped at a fruit stand and bought some superbly delicious  eat-over-the-sink juicy peaches.  When Gary awoke from his nap, we went to the pretzel factory to take the tour and eat many pretzels.  We were successful at both.

As we were readying for home, we asked our electronic Maps dude to provide the route back to the Eastern Shore of Maryland.  It took us down so many windy skinny roads including a detour, but it was a gorgeous drive and we stayed off the highway for the most part.  As I said earlier, the farms were beautiful, the carts and ponies of the Amish a great reminder of what things were like for all of us back in the day.  

One of my favorite sights anywhere in the whole wide world is a line of clothes hung out to dry. I know this takes me back to my childhood because I remember running through lines of damp sheets in the hot summers.  They felt so cool on my cheek.  According to Amish lore, the clothes are hung on lines between farm buildings or on front porches to show that they have nothing to hide.

We drove past so many mouth-watering displays of home-grown fruits and vegetables for sale, but could not stop due to the size of our RV.  I'm a really good driver, but pulling into someone's yard with an RV and then having to back out onto a fairly busy road is not my idea of fun.  Fortified with the peaches, we drove on.

We got to Gary's parent's house later that evening; his Dad was to start his week of surgeries the next morning.

Next Up:  Heart to Heart