All Aboard the Crazy Train: Kelleys Island 2026

I think I boarded the Crazy Train last week.

Destination: Kelleys Island, Ohio.

The itinerary looked fabulous on paper: several days on one of my favorite Lake Erie islands, first with high school girlfriends and then with family, followed by my great-niece’s first birthday celebration in Cleveland before eventually heading home to Maryland.

What could possibly go wrong?

Apparently, I should never ask that question.

Before I get to the mayhem, though, I need to say this: I love Kelleys Island; I mean, I LOOOOVVVEEEE Kelleys Island, and have for the past 40 years and counting.

I’ve traveled hundreds of miles on foot and bicycle around this little Lake Erie island over the decades. I’ve walked it, run the Kelleys Island 10K many times, eventually graduated myself down to the much friendlier 5K, and competed in triathlons that occasionally became biathlons because Lake Erie decided it was far too choppy for anyone to swim safely that day.

Our family has history here, too. Olivia and Ryan ran their first one-mile “competition” on Kelleys Island when they were kids. Everyone got a ribbon whether they won, ran, walked, or simply crossed the finish line. It was never really about winning anyway. It was about showing up, participating, and doing it together. That is the community I love.

But Mother Nature apparently had purchased the first ticket on the Crazy Train. Shortly after the Rhodes girls arrived on Tuesday, we headed to a popular restaurant on the West End of the island. Clouds rolled in pretty fast just as we were finishing up and headed back to the house.

RAIN! Darkness. Thunder and Lightning.

And I mean the rain poured down something fierce.

The island had already experienced tremendous rainfall and flooding a few weeks earlier (17" in some places), and our 1880 farmhouse basement cellar was gaining water. We couldn’t do a thing about it while it poured in and hoped we were safe. We weren’t even sure we’d be able to stay there. I had backup plans ready in case the water didn’t recede, but thankfully, it did. We stayed safe and stayed.

Then Wednesday came.

Almost the same scenario as Tuesday’s: the skies opened up after lunch, and the rain poured down so hard and fast that practically every yard on the island seemed to acquire its own swimming pool. Ours certainly did. Water surrounded the farmhouse, pooled across lawns and the wooded areas, and turned portions of the island into one giant soggy mess, but thankfully not nearly as much as yesterday.

Looking back, perhaps I should have recognized the warning.

The Crazy Train had officially left the station. (Thanks Debbie M. for the appropriate moniker).

ALL ABOARD!

Back to the first part of the trip: my high school girlfriends (Debbie, Kata, Sue, Sarah & Robin) joined me Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, and despite what would eventually unfold around us, we had a wonderful time together. There is something pretty special about friendships that reach all the way back to high school (and elementary and junior high, too). Years and miles disappear quickly when you’re together again, and the laughter picks up where it left off.

Thursday was supposed to bring the changing of the guard, so to speak. My girlfriends would head out after breakfast, and my family would arrive for the second half of the island stay. Bill and Ryan were also supposed to fly into Ohio and join us.

Nope.

Ryan came down with a bad head cold, which meant he couldn’t travel, and Bill stayed home with him. The car with family members Kimberly, Jerry, and Annette still made it to the island, so we adjusted the plan.

Then came word that my great-niece, whose first birthday party was one of the reasons for this entire Ohio trip, had come down with hand, foot, and mouth disease.

First birthday party: canceled.

Poor little thing.

At this point, the Crazy Train was picking up speed.

So, during this trip, I did what I’ve done here countless times: I put on my walking shoes and headed out two mornings late in the week.

On one morning, I walked five miles at a fast clip, talking into my phone as thoughts came to me. There is something special about the backside of Kelleys Island that gets me every time. A two-lane narrow road winds along Lake Erie beneath this magnificent canopy of mature trees, providing welcome shade and that peaceful island feeling I’ve loved for years.

And then there are the deer.

I swear when I walk by a large field, I can feel the eyes of baby deer boring into my back as I walk on by. I’ll sense something, turn around, and sure enough, there they are—quietly watching me as intently as I’m watching them.

As I rounded the island to Lakeshore Drive, the turkey vultures—or buzzards, as we often call them—have their place here, too. They soar overhead and gather in their favorite island spots, seemingly without a care in the world. Nobody bothers them. They don’t bother anybody. They simply make themselves at home, and have for years.

For those five miles, everything about Kelleys Island felt exactly as it always had.

Peaceful.

Familiar.

Beautiful.

Unfortunately, the rest of the week had other plans.

ALL ABOARD!

Meanwhile, our rental situation had become increasingly uncomfortable. Sometimes you don’t need to analyze a situation to death. You trust your gut, pack your stuff, and go.

And that’s exactly what my sisters, brother-in-law, and I did. Just like the high school friends, we laughed, ate delicious food, played rousing games of Yahtzee, and enjoyed each other’s company on Island time.

Thankfully, other great friends who live on the island provided the softest possible landing. What could have been a lousy ending to our time on the island instead turned into a magical Friday evening with wonderful people, a fall-off-the-bone BBQ ribs and corn on the cob dinner, with all the fixin’s and some wine, and, of course, more games. Sometimes an unexpected change of plans delivers exactly what you didn’t know you needed.

Silver lining number one.

The next day, I headed toward Cleveland, dropped off one of my sisters, and decided I might as well point the car east and drive home to Maryland.

At this point, I probably should have known better.

Pennsylvania entered my orbit in less than two hours after I dropped off my sister.

My car developed trouble on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Thankfully—and this is important—I was at the service plaza. I wasn’t stranded along the highway or sitting somewhere dangerous. I was safe. That is always a good thing.

I called AAA. Nothing moved fast, just saying...

The car needed a tow.

I needed to get to Crofton.

Easy enough, right?

Oh, Crazy Train, you weren’t finished with me yet.

AAA could get me to Breezewood, Pennsylvania, but another tow all the way home wouldn’t be available until the following day.

So there I was. Kinda stranded, but still safe in Breezewood, PA. My car was dropped off in the Sheetz parking lot, and I had an unexpected overnight stay. And, for the record, let’s just say the lodging available to me that evening will not be making my list of charming accommodations or a glowing TripAdvisor review - the room did its job: clean enough and, I crossed my fingers for this one, safe.

I went to bed thinking surely—this adventure had finally run out of plot twists. But since I was a bit rattled, I went to bed early. Sleep could help with the angst I was feeling about the whole goshdarn thing.

Sunday morning arrived, and so did my next AAA ride.

Maybe you could have guessed this next sentence:

More RAIN!

But… it also came with silver lining number two.

An absolutely delightful couple, ages 82 and 80, became part of the final leg of my Crazy Train journey back to Crofton. What could have been several miserable hours worrying about my car and wishing I were already home instead became a wonderful ride filled with conversation, stories, laughter, and the kind of unexpected human connection that I will always treasure.

By the time we finally reached Crofton, I couldn’t help but think about the entire week.

The birthday party didn’t happen.

Bill and Ryan couldn’t come.

Our rental situation went sideways.

My car decided Pennsylvania was a lovely place to quit cooperating.

I spent an unplanned night in Breezewood.

Yet, somehow, that’s not what I want to remember most.

I want to remember my high school girlfriends and the laughter that comes from friendships measured in decades. I want to remember my family making the best of plans that kept changing. I want to remember Jodie and Scot opening their home and giving us such a wonderful Friday night. I want to remember those baby deer watching me from beneath the trees, the turkey vultures soaring overhead, Lake Erie beside me, and my own two feet once again covering familiar island miles.

And I especially want to remember two people, 82-year-old Ken and 80-year-old Maxine, who entered my life because my car broke down in Pennsylvania and turned an aggravating tow home into a delightful Sunday ride.

Maybe that’s what this particular Kelleys Island trip was supposed to remind me.

Plans unravel. Parties get canceled. People get sick. Cars break. And occasionally, you discover that it’s simply time to pack your suitcase and leave earlier than planned.

But then people show up.

Friends show up.

Family shows up.

Strangers show up.

And somehow, amid all the mayhem, and dare I say some madness thrown in for good measure, there are still deer beneath the trees, Lake Erie sparkling through the branches and amazing sunsets, laughter around a table, old friendships, new friendships, and plenty of reasons to be grateful.

One crazy week cannot erase decades of wonderful Kelleys Island memories. If anything, it simply added another story to the collection.

The Crazy Train 🚃 finally pulled into Crofton on Sunday.

And wouldn’t you know it?

Turns out, even the Crazy Train runs on Sunshine ☀️.

bSoleille!

Terri

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