Had I not been still recovering from a swollen foot, I may have dragged my birthday buddy hiking once more. In keeping with seasonal activities though, I opted for the tamer alternative of fruit picking.
Consistent with my naturally ambitious nature, the trip would involve more than one stop, as to take advantage of the kilometres already travelled.
Consistent with my naturally ambitious nature, the trip would involve more than one stop, as to take advantage of the kilometres already travelled.
The first stop was Cherry Avenue Farms in Vineland. Previously bookmarked as an outing candidate with my browsing partner, the event was ultimately unrealized due to scheduling conflicts and the passing of cherry picking season.
Despite not being particularly pleased, my birthday buddy was open to the idea of departing in the early morning - which is already more agreeable than the likes of my previous picking counterpart.
We departed around 8:30 AM, with traffic being incredibly forgiving on a Sunday morning. Around 9:20 AM, we pulled into the muddy, gravel lot. It was unbelievable that the lot was already nearing capacity at the early hour, with a line forming for entry. The act of parking became a competition, including the tailing and waiting associated with Costco.
Cherry Avenue Farms had just opened at 8 AM, so the volumes was honestly quite ridiculous.
Despite not being particularly pleased, my birthday buddy was open to the idea of departing in the early morning - which is already more agreeable than the likes of my previous picking counterpart.
We departed around 8:30 AM, with traffic being incredibly forgiving on a Sunday morning. Around 9:20 AM, we pulled into the muddy, gravel lot. It was unbelievable that the lot was already nearing capacity at the early hour, with a line forming for entry. The act of parking became a competition, including the tailing and waiting associated with Costco.
Cherry Avenue Farms had just opened at 8 AM, so the volumes was honestly quite ridiculous.
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Visitor demographic was not unsimilar to the likes of Costco (Heartland specifically) either. From the hoards of Southeast Asian families to uncaring North American parents that allowed their children to tug at tree branches and snap off leaves without reprimanding them, my birthday buddy and I knew we were in for some fun times.
Admission was $12 per person and included a small basket for picking. Payment was taken at the entry booth, in formats of either cash or debit.
Admission was $12 per person and included a small basket for picking. Payment was taken at the entry booth, in formats of either cash or debit.
We were then roughly directed inside the farm and towards a young man who provided an overview of the rules. All visitors were allowed to pick up to the handle of the basket, but no further.
The front part of the farm housed sweet cherries, while another section both sweet and sour cherries. Given that the objective was both varieties, the young man directed towards a small, white tent. The general area assumed a pickup spot for tractor rides towards the section of the farm housing both species.
Although I should have readied myself since the horrific fumes and dust clouds of Downey's, I had committed the blunder of bringing neither sunglasses nor a face mask for the adventure. The tractor would traverse along a portion of Cherry Avenue before turning into a secondary field. Exposure to the elements and exhaust of passing vehicles was none too pleasant.
Upon reaching the access path of the second field though, the tractor ride became more enjoyable. Overhanging branches of nearby cherry trees provided shade as well as a scenic view of the orchards.
Upon reaching the access path of the second field though, the tractor ride became more enjoyable. Overhanging branches of nearby cherry trees provided shade as well as a scenic view of the orchards.
The group disembarked at a station similar to the one from which we came: a small, white tent with a picnic table underneath.
As the impossibly rowdy, uncultured masses headed in the direction of the sour cherry fields, my Birthday Buddy and I decided in the opposite direction for peace of mind. The sweet cherry trees were evidently damp from the previous night's downpour, its leaves cloaked in dew. Interestingly, the ground underneath our feet was not extremely sodden.
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Venturing between the rows of cherry trees was rather pleasant. With stout bases and branches that extended to just above our heads, we easily found shade and bunches of the fruit within reach. Unfortunately, many of the cherries had already started rotting. More often than not, their exteriors bore a darkened appearance with questionable yellow bumps. In trekking between the trees, a sour odour was perceived: fermentation of end-of-season cherries had begun.
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