We tried. Really we did. After all, it was the first beautiful day in ages, the blueberries were in their glory this year, and we were all assembled in the car, ready to go at a reasonable hour for a change.
As we closed in on Whitesbog Village for the 26th Annnual Whitesbog Blueberry Festival, we saw people parking out on the main road and walking in; but since we were pooped from entertaining some good friends and a surprisingly wide-awake Lizzie the night before and unsure if we'd get ticketed or towed, we'd abide by the steep suggested $8.00 parking fee. After all, it would be closer and more convenient for families with young children wouldn't it? And since it was about 1:30 in the afternoon when we arrived, we'd have plenty of time to enjoy the festival's offerings before it shut down at 4:00. Right? RIGHT?
After paying our money and wending our way through a seemingly endless tour of the cranberry bogs, it became apparent we were almost as far from the festival as our house. The only way in now was either to walk all the way back, or to take the shuttle bus with kids (and stroller in tow).
We parked and took our place in a loooooong line of people waiting. A little after 2:00PM, it was our turn to board the bus-still, I thought, surely we'll be there in no time! Suddenly, the bus stopped in the middle of a narrow wooded lane. Then the engine shut off. The story eventually came out: a police car had gone off the road and ended up in a ditch. The bus was going nowhere until the car was pulled out by a tow truck. Several disgruntled people left the bus-why not walk the rest of the way?- but promptly returned. No one was going to be allowed through, by vehicle or on foot, until that car was dragged out of the ditch. So we sat, and waited...and waited...on an non-air conditioned school bus. With screaming, cranky toddlers. And many of us wondering why the hell couldn't they have decided to drag this car out after the festival was over. We hadn't even arrived yet and we felt ripped off. Finally, at about 3:00, the road was cleared and we were brought safely into the festival proper.
Needless to say, we weren't in the most accommodating of moods, and I found myself comparing everything to Hammonton's big annual festival (you can read about our visit there last year here). There were a fair share of interesting craft booths, but with half of our $16.00 budget already wasted (we're living on unemployment, folks) and now an added time constraint, we rushed to scope out our activities strategically- namely the kid's activities for Jules and, well, blueberries.
Unfortunately, the plethora of fresh, fat, juicy Hammonton berries were completely gone when we got there. A heavy sigh. Well, no matter. I can always pick some up at the Waretown farmer's market on Tuesday...Then I looked at the schedule to see what we'd missed: free lectures and tours on blueberries, cranberries (after all, that's what Whitesbog Village was really known for, despite being historically recognized as the birthplace of the cultivation of the blueberry in 1916 by Elizabeth White), and history; pick your own blueberry tours ($5 fee), tours of the home and experimental gardens of the famous Ms. White ($5 fee), various nature walks and wagon tours (each having a -you guessed it-$5 fee)...Hmmm, how about some blueberry cheesecake ice cream? Nope-gone.
Well, dammit, we came to the festival for blueberries, and dammit, we were going to get something with blueberries in it! Luckily, we came across the "bake sale" table, and there were still plenty of items to be had there.
We purchased a few slices of blueberry cheesecake and pie, bagels, and a blueberry sugar cookie.
Julian made quick work of the interesting giant cookie and the cheesecake was good, but nothing special; it was the pie that stood out. The filling was not too sweet, showcasing the real star of the show-the fresh berries. In fact, it was the second best blueberry pie that I've ever had (the first was at a catered family event in Maine with wild blueberries).
The bagels looked great, but I'll have to let you know how they are after breakfast tomorrow. We also found an old favorite we were introduced to last year (at the Red, White, and Blueberry Festival)- Jersey Blues Blueberry Iced Tea. Ahhh-refreshing on a hot afternoon.
Having missed a lot of the tours, we sought out the few fun kid's activities, such as face painting, a bean bag toss, and a blueberry paper craft - there were no rides or inflatable jumping thingies (Julian was a bit disappointed).
By this time, the money was just about gone and we had had enough- poor Lizzie was hot and tired and even Jules was wilting a bit. So off we went to line up for a shuttle bus back to the car. When it arrived, we found it was the kind that is sealed shut because it is supposed to be climate controlled-but it wasn't. It was hot, stuffy, and crowded- poor Lizzie screamed the whole way and didn't stop until the door opened again, letting in what now seemed a cool breeze. Ugh.
Interestingly enough, while I was sitting in our beautifully air-conditioned car and nursing/rehydrating the exhausted Lady Miss Elizabeth, we observed people picking things off bushes on the edge of the parking area. I briefly investigated a little later and found that, sure enough, they were wild blueberry bushes! But being that they were so small and tart (of course I sampled one!), and we were SO worn out, I skipped the opportunity.
As we followed the exit signs, it seemed that the way out was shorter than the way in-and we were right. To add insult to injury, it was apparent that we paid 8 #@*&^ dollars (in this economy?!?) for the privilege of parking FARTHER away than was necessary (the main road would have worked just fine), enduring the tortures of the shuttle buses, and missing a good deal of the attractions of the festival. Sure the pie was good, but I feel cheated and abused. Our vote? Skip Whitesbog next year and get your berries at the Hammonton festival instead.
-Lisa