Author: donhall930

(One word says it all.)

This could be the ultimate “Final Jeopardy!” question of all time.

                                                Answer: “This destination resort was designated as the second National Park in the United States in 1875” (three years after Yellowstone)

                                                Question: “What is Mackinac Island.”

                                    “Now just hold on there Donny, everyone knows that Sequoia in California is our second oldest National Park! (1890) Besides…. no one even knows how to spell or pronounce Mackinac/Mackinaw! And on top of that, what’s the deal with the no cars thing?“

                                    No worries mates!

                                    All of these queries and observations will be handled in this Post as you all will become Mackinac experts by the time that we’re finished here.

                                    Let’s deal with the obvious first.

                                    Mackinac? or Mackinaw?

            Both are correct spelling depending on which side of the huge Mackinac Bridge you are on. The Lower Michigan folks spell it Mackinaw and the Yoopers (the phonetic contraction for U.P. short for Upper Peninsula) spell it Mackinac, but still pronounce it with the aw sound at the end.

                                    Confused?

                                    So were the early French explorers that came here in the late 1600’s and conversed with the local Anishnaabek folks that resided here. To confound this entire phonetical pronunciation problem is the original name of the Island….. Michilimackinac.

                                    Ha! Easy for you to say!

                                    But the translation of which, while it may be easier to say, it is not that easy to use, it is…. “Land of the Great Turtle”.

And while we all love turtles, and yearn for the days gone by, it is just better to refer to this island as Mackinac. (The marketing folks were also quite happy with it)

                                    Let’s settle that question about the second national park. Yes, it is true that Mackinac Island was the second National Park, but it lasted only for twenty years and was then turned over to the State of Michigan which in turn made it a State Park. But that Jeopardy! question still stands!

                                    Now we’ll tackle the “No Cars” restriction on the Island. Not only are there no cars, but there are also no motorcycles, scooters, delivery vehicles, buses, street cars, golf carts, skateboards, roller skates, or wheelchairs. (only kidding about the wheelchairs!) Here’s the backstory:

                                    The year is 1898 and the horseless carriage is becoming a more frequent sight wherever you go. Someone was “zooming” along the main drag on Mackinac and scared someone else’s horses attached to their carriage. A petition to ban said “horseless carriages” was hastily drawn up and presented to the Village Council who approved it. Ever since that fateful encounter there have been no motorized vehicles allowed on the Island. In fact, Mackinac has the only State Highway in the nation, the M185, that bans all motorized vehicles! Now, let’s be a tad practical here and readily admit that some powered emergency vehicles are a good idea, so fire trucks and ambulances are tucked away for their use if needed.

                                    I have to admit that it was a little strange when disembarking on the Island to find only horse drawn carriages and carts along with 15 billion bicycles to rent, as the only transportation.

                                    Quiet?

                                    You bet!

                                    Better?

                                    In this case I would have to agree with that 1898 Village Council and their ban. Mackinac Island has a mission and that is to provide a resort experience that is a throwback to the late 19^th century, that is replete with the customs and service of that era.

                                    And they do it nicely.

                                    Even the deliveries that go to all of the hotels and restaurants here have to be delivered by a horse drawn cart. I watched the local Sysco delivery come in on a barge, to be met by the cart, and then proceed on a delivery route as if it was a hundred years ago. Even the garbage trucks are the horse drawn carts!

                                    Our original plan was to rent some bicycles and pedal around the Island, but I ended up with some old knee issues flaring up, which ixnayed the pedaling around. So, I hired a horsedrawn carriage (no fringe on top), and Melanie, Trigger, and Daisy spent two hours driving us around to the most popular sights, which also included Melanie’s running commentary. The back carriage roads of the Island are gorgeous and wind their way through many a wooded area of Mackinac Island which is over 80% covered by that Mackinac State Park.

                                    Trigger and Daisy are just two of the over five-hundred horses that are on the Island. That is a one-to-one ratio as the full-time population of the Island is just over that five-hundred number. With all of those horses comes the inevitable results of eating lots of hay and transitioning that hay into fertilizer. No worries there either as there were innumerable Manure Magnets pushing their little carts around sweeping up the evidence of horses gone by.

                                    We did not see any flies either!

                                    (I think they were banned with the cars!)

                                    Mackinac Island has been on my Bucket List for as long as I can remember mostly because of seeing images of the Grand Hotel. I’m afraid that those wonderful images, no matter how great they were, cannot do the real Grand Hotel justice.

We were only able to ride by and see it up close as they certainly restrict access to their guests only. This ensures that a return visit is in the offing for another trip here in the future.

                                    And the next time will include a stay at the Grand.

Our ferry ride back to St. Ignace was as nice as the one outbound in the morning. We really did not know what to expect with regards to our visit. My only previous experience were some photos of The Grand and the movie Somewhere in Time which given the nature of the timelessness of this Island was filmed in the perfect location. I will tell you that not one aspect of this venture disappointed and only whetted our appetites for a return visit that will last a bit longer!

                        Over the last few days, we’ve visited any number of historic sites and museums, some of which really deserve a Post of their own. But for many reasons (one of which is just beating you guys over the head with Museum Minutiae) I decided to give you a brief overview of the same. The Post from two days ago, Sault Ste. Marie, was one of the hardest that I’ve written only because there was too much information and the culling of which became tedious (in a good way!)

                        So….. here are two Museums that we visited that if included in the other Posts, would have been smothered and would not have received the distinction that they deserve!

                        I present now, for your Museum Musings….

                        Two collections of regional interest…..

                        One is of airplanes (No! Really?)

                        And the other is ships (Gasp! What a surprise!)

            Well, both are vital to this area. If Canada has anything, it has trees. And lots of trees together become forests. And when it gets hot and dry they like to show off what a spark can do and ignite into raging infernos. We all, as of late, have seen and smelled (even as far away as NYC) the effects of the huge wildfires in Canada. These places are hard to reach as there are not a lot of roads that cris-cross these vast arboreal areas. This is where this particular museum comes in as it highlights and documents the efforts of Canada’s Bush Planes and firefighting services.

            We poked over the Border to the city in Canada with the same name as the one in the USA, Sault Ste. Marie. The border crossing was uneventful in both directions, they just took a while as the lines were significant but not extensive. It took probably an average of twenty minutes to cross over. This was not the time for levity. No joking with the Border Patrol folks, just answer their questions politely and hopefully move on. You could tell that they are trained…. Small questions about where we’re from, the answers, if given hesitantly, may have morphed into a more serious discussion.

                        The Bush Plane Museum is in an old giant hanger that was used for seaplane service back in the day. It afforded a realistic space for all of the planes in their collection, which were many.

There were also two movie features, one on the firefighting process itself and the other was on Jane Goodall and her positive attitude towards what we can do to help our planet recover from abuse and further survive in the future.

Jane is a World Treasure.

The Maritime Museum, Great Lakes Freighter, Valley Camp

The next day we went to an old (1917) Great Lakes freighter that has been converted into a Maritime Museum, both inside her hull and out. The exhibits were quite extensive and very informative.

The exhibits were so well done that Paula (who I drag to every maritime/aviation museum we find and is not particularly drawn to same) was fascinated by the stories of these ships which did include a detailed timeline and narrative of the demise of the Edmund Fitzgerald.

The Great Lakes and their accompanying inclement weather are nothing to be trifled with. The evidence of these mishaps is overwhelming as evidenced by the exhibits in all of the Maritime Museums of this area.

                                    Today is your lucky day!

                                    It is time for another Class Trip and fortunately the weather is beautiful because today we’re all going on a Boat Ride!

You all may not be as excited about this as I am (as I will entertain any excuse for a Boat Ride) but I can assure you that this one is VERY interesting!

                                    Seeing as we are here at the Soo Locks, and even though we all saw them from the Observation Deck yesterday, what better way to experience these marvelous engineering works of wonder than to actually get into them and be raised and lowered the twenty-one feet that is the difference between Lake Superior and Lake Huron.

                                    We chose for our outing The Original Soo Locks Boat Tour which started in 1934 with a wooden cruiser named Bide-A-Wee. No one (banks) would loan Captain Beechgood the capital that he needed to start this venture up, because the Bean Counters did not think that anyone would want to go through the locks as everything was visible from land. So, the Beechgoods mortgaged their home and bought a boat. 90 years later we sailed on Bide-A-Wee III (built in 1953!) and there were two sister ships at their dock ready to go also. The family still owns and operates these boats 😊

                        Our two-hour tour consisted of a trip up to the American side of the locks, then we returned by the Canadian side. The Canadian side was once much larger and was the original, but when the American side was built and started operations, it took most of the business away from the Canadian side. The Canadian locks were eventually shortened and modernized to accommodate tour boats, pleasure craft, jet skis, and even kayaks. There is no charge to use any of these locks, even on the American side.

                                    Ok, it’s time to board, please watch your step!

So, what happens to the old ships? Some are sunk on purpose to create artificial reefs, the lucky ones become Museum Ships, but by far the most end up at the “breakers” to be torn down and turned into scrap metal.

I am uncomfortable talking about this.

We hope that you have enjoyed your Boat Tour of the Soo Locks, and we hope to see you again on one of our Tours of just about anything that we come across! Remember admission is always free and virtual snacks can be had for the asking!

Stay tuned for some diagrams of how the Locks work. If you have been bored to tears, feel free to exit now before we get really technical!

The absolute “End”

                                   

The legend lives on

From the Chippewa on down

To the Great Lake they call

Gitche Gumee…

If I were to select one theme that is pervasive here on the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, it would be that of the maritime thread that sews this region together and binds everyone to the history and drama of the ships and sailors that ply these waters.

                                    There are many others, but I’ll start here.

                        We are up here in Sault Ste. Marie in Michigan which as you can surmise by the spelling of the name, was founded by the French in the early 1600’s making it one of the oldest permanent settlements in the country. But, for us folks who took Spanish, etc. in High School, it’s pronounced Soo St. Marie and that’s evidenced by another accepted way of spelling it because when the Brits took over, they morphed it phonetically.

                        The Great Lakes do provide the bulk of the traditions of this area, and no one minds at all. This tiny area of the Soo is the home to the Soo Locks, a project started way back in the 1800’s and carried on by the indomitable force of the Army Corps of Engineers to this day. All of the ships that transport the commodities of this region have to transit through these locks in order to get around the elevation difference between Lake Superior and Lake Huron and the rest of the world. Lake Superior lies about six-hundred feet above sea level and unless you want to watch a giant ore freighter try and navigate some Class V rapids or go over Niagara Falls, then a system of canals and locks is quite necessary!

                                    We started our day with Darla and Sandra, our friends and tour guides, with a stop at a Native American cemetery. This particular one belongs to the Bay Mills Tribe, one of five recognized Tribes on the UP. These tribes have their histories intertwined with the Chippewa, Menominee, and Dakota.

                                    Our next stop was out on a point jutting into Lake Superior that had one of Michigan’s 129 lighthouses on it. Michigan has more lighthouses than any other state, coming in second is Maine with almost one hundred less!

Our primary objective of the day was a visit to the Great Lakes Shipwreck Museum way out on Whitefish Point, near what is aptly monikered as the Graveyard of the Great Lakes. This area, just off of this point is, in fact, the site of the foundering of the Edmund Fitzgerald, which for better or worse brought the ever-present possibility of catastrophe on these waters to the forefront.

I am one-hundred percent sure that my opening lines of this Post were familiar to you. Gordon Lightfoot considered The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald to be his finest work. He wrote and recorded it just weeks after the Edmund Fitzgerald went down in November of 1975. This song is obviously used at the Museum as this is the organization that spearheaded a dive to the site (over 500 feet down) to bring the bell of the ship up to the surface to be used as a memorial. The families of the crew were all involved in this endeavor, and they replaced it with an identical bell inscribed with all of the names of the twenty-nine men that perished that day.

                                    We watched a film documenting this entire (very dangerous) process which ended with a ceremony where family members came up one by one and rang the actual bell in remembrance of their lost loved one. It was an ending that most families don’t get to have when there is a tragedy at sea. Mr. Lightfoot’s lyrics rang particularly true at this point…

                                    The church bell chimed ‘til it rang twenty-nine times

                                    For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald

We could have spent a lot more time here as the Museum had an exhibit on most of the ships that have gone down over the past hundred or so years. I would not hesitate to return to this area!

                        The Upper Peninsula is mainly composed of large swaths of forests and waterways. Bogs filled with blueberries and cranberries work their way in from the shoreline where the beaches are as sandy as the Jersey Shore, and the water looks like it could be in the Caribbean!

We drove long stretches of roads that had absolutely nothing on them until a small settlement would appear and then just as quickly disappear behind us. At the end of one of these roads was our next destination and lunch! We were headed to Tahquamenon (which rhymes with phenomenon) Falls State Park, the home of the falls and a local brewing company of the same name, and their accompanying restaurant.

                        Lunch over, we walked down to the Falls, which are quite impressive as these falls are second only to Niagara Falls in volume. In the Spring over 50,000 gallons per second drops over the edge of the falls on the river of the same name. I think they just like to say “Tahquamenon” 😊

                        We arrived “back in the Soo” just in time for ice cream and a walk across the street to visit the Soo Locks Visitors Center run by the Army Corps of Engineers. This viewpoint was multi-level, had loudspeakers which explained what ship was coming through, and was situated just a few feet from the edge of the Locks. The inside of the Center provided an incredible amount of information about shipping, lock technology, history, and the current ships and marine traffic at any given time. It was very well done!

                        One of the best parts of traveling around our country is discovering things that we never knew existed but are in fact very important and interesting. We are only one day in on our visit to the UP and this has already been exemplified well beyond our expectations.

                                                And there’s still more to come!

The Great ‘Back to Texas’ Western Migration by Way of Michigan, Minnesota, Montana, Washington, Oregon, Utah, and Colorado has begun!

Our first day on the road was thankfully uneventful, Miss Biggie ran like the champion that she (presently 😊) is. It’s a good thing that we had all of that AC work done as the temps were in the 90’s and with our big, clear, “Greenhouse Effect” front window in full sun all day makes for some uncomfortable temps inside our version of the Space Shuttle. We have definitely come to realize that products are made for averages and when one gets to the extremes of the ranges from which those averages are extracted….. well, let’s just say that the design envelopes tend to stretch a tad and things can be a bit dicey. I cannot report that it was cold in there. Maybe just tolerable?

            But just in time our Walmart of Oregon (Ohio) came into view and our chosen spot for the night had some fortuitously placed trees that helped to shade us as the sun went lower on the horizon.

So Don, why ‘Oregon’ in Ohio?

I’m glad you asked that Cartography Class!

                        Here’s my theory….. back in the day, Leroy loaded up the Conestoga Wagon with the missus, Abigail. The rest of his family, Jeremiah (his oldest), Hank, Clara, Daphne, Lucas, and his youngest, Tillie, piled in after her except Jeremiah whose job it was to herd the little livestock they brought with them along the way.

                        Leroy was a dreamer and ever since he had heard of the West and all of the adventures that could be theirs for the taking, he had that migration mantra plastered in his brain, Oregon or Bust!

                        Well, let’s just say that the rest of the family did not really share Leroy’s enthusiasm for this adventure, but like the good, obedient family that they were, they followed him out of the yard, down the road and hit the trail westward.

Now Leroy lived in northern New Jersey and according to Google Maps it takes 44 days and 16 hours to walk from there to Pacific City, Oregon. That’s without stopping to sleep, eat, or take numerous ‘Go behind the bushes’ breaks. Then add in the herding of the sometimes-errant critters that were accompanying them and the occasional stops for repairing a wagon wheel, fighting off bears and villainous waylayers, and of course, Interstate 80 was still a hundred-plus years in the future.

                        So it was no surprise that after just two weeks on the trail with everyone asking, “Are we there yet?” (especially little Tillie) that Leroy, in exasperation, finally gave up when they hit this section of Ohio, turned to his dragged-along family and shouted, “Yes! This is Oregon! And looking out across what was Lake Erie added, “See! There’s the Pacific Ocean! We are here!”

                        Everyone cheered (except Tillie who was napping) and was happy.  Leroy opened a General Store along this route and quickly named the place Oregon so as to stake his claim that they did, in fact, get to Oregon anyway.

                        Eventually the General Store expanded, added a line of clothing and household goods, some frozen foods and a shop where you could have your wagon wheels changed. This enterprise was eventually re-named Wall-Mart by Lucas (who followed his father into the business) because they had built a wall around their little compound to thwart evildoers.

                        That is where were are presently staying the night.

                                    The End.

                        Today we should be pulling into Sault Ste. Marie (pronounced Soo Saint Marie) way up on the tippy-top of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Excursions to hopefully include a trip to (Bucket List!) Mackinac (Mackinaw) Island where the Grand Hotel (!!!) (of Somewhere in Time) along with some great local State Parks on the shores of Lake Superior. Plus, our campsite is directly across from the Soo Locks which all of the giant ore freighters use on their way to and from the “mills in Wisconsin” (Ballad of the Edmund Fitzgerald). To sweeten this trip, we get to visit Darla and Sandra who we met on the World Cruise. The live in Sault Ste Marie.

                                    More to follow as the Adventures continue!

                        We are down the Jersey Shore for our annual Beach Haven Stay–A-While courtesy of my sister Kathy and her husband Denny. I think we’re somewhere around ten years or so into this wonderful ritual.

                        This also means that you are in for a travel-tidbit concerning this great destination! You may feel that there is a lesson soon to be foisted upon you. You would be correct! I promise that this may be the most practical Blog Post that I’ve ever sent to you, as it is ……

                        Not about the history of this area.

                        Not about the attractions of this area.

                        Not even the geologic makings of barrier islands.

            (All of which you have suffered through before!)

This is the Tastiest Travel Tidbit that I’ve ever posted!

Let’s talk about ….   Food!

 But….

                                     Not the boardwalk versions of Disco Fries.

                                     Not Saltwater Taffy.

                                     Not even some incredible local Clam Chowders.

We are going directly to the little town that sits at the northern end of Long Beach Island (LBI for short), that of Barnegat Light which is also the home of the eponymous Barnegat Lighthouse. This location is the link between the travel and the tasty……

                        Most of us like seafood.

                        But we’re not going to talk about swordfish.

                                                Not even Flounder.

                                                Nope, not grouper either.

                        We’re going to go straight to the tippy top of delectable morsels of the cornucopia of underwater treats that our oceans supply for us…..

                                    That of the Sea Scallop (preferably pan-seared!)

                                    You know, the one that looks like the Shell Petroleum logo, the one with ‘scalloped’ edges!

                        Imagine, if you will, an extremely hot skillet, a perfectly seasoned cast-iron one is preferred (but not mandatory) and onto its 400-degree surface you gently place a well-oiled Atlantic Sea Scallop, on one of its two flat sides. Don’t hurry it. Don’t pry it off of the surface (it will release itself when ready) but definitely pay attention because when it does release itself, that is the time to flip the little guy (or gal) over and finish it off. Not as much time is needed on the second side because the LAST thing that you want to do is over cook our new best friend.

                        When ready flip it back to the original (well caramelized) first side and serve immediately.

                        Your friends will hold you in the highest esteem and probably name a holiday after you!

                        Sounds great Don, but where do we get these tasty treats?

                        I’m glad you asked that Mr. Marine Biologist!

                        You will need to be a little forward and come across as a Scallop Snob, but the final outcome is hanging by the proverbial adductor muscle (which is that tasty part of the scallop that we crave).

                        Modern harvesting and especially transportation methods have helped make the procurement of these puppies a lot easier than it was in the past.

                        Let’s go the absolute best place on the Planet to get them.

                        The docks of Barnegat Light where the scallop boats come in daily and unload our dinner.

                        Yes, I have driven down to Barnegat Light just to buy scallops, but in reality, that is not needed, for all of the aforementioned reasons. But you need to now turn into that Scallop Snob that I mentioned and quiz your local seafood department.

                        Here are the questions..

                                    Are these previously frozen?

                                    If Yes, stick out your tongue and wave good-by.

                                    If No, proceed to the next question.

                                    Are these wet or dry scallops?

                                    If Wet, (‘wet’ scallops have been soaked in tri-polyphosphate to whiten them and pump them up with water) stick out your tongue, shake your head in disgust and stamp out of the store.

                                    If No, (‘dry’ scallops have not been treated in any way) then you’re in safe territory and the rest is just for further satisfaction…..

                                    Are these Day-Boat or Diver Scallops?

                                    If the answer is Yes to either one, Nirvana is nigh, and you will need to contain your excitement as not to make a fool of yourself.

                                    So Don, what do all of these different features mean and what difference does it really make?

                        I’m glad you asked that one Ms. Jeopardy Contestant!

                        We’ve already said that ‘dry’ is better than ‘wet’ but the reason is manyfold. ‘Wet’ scallops will never ‘sear’ because when heated, all of that wetness comes out and turns into steam. You cannot get a caramelized surface when its being steamed. Plus, even though the price is less for ‘wet’ they will shrink about 30% when cooked and be yucky! ‘Dry’ scallops won’t do that and it’s even better when you can just tap them with a paper towel a bit before oiling them up.

                        ‘Day Boat’ scallops are just that, they come in daily instead of being out for several days and are generally fresher. ‘Diver’ Scallops are the best as they have been hand-harvested by a diver with that tank on his back and a bag at his side, picking only the biggest and best just for you (and me!) But beware, the term Diver Scallop has been utilized on menus where it is impossible to be certain (because of obvious seafaring conditions) that the scallops are indeed true ‘Diver Scallops,’ but in that case they are at least usually ‘dry’.

                        So now we’re ready for dinner!

                        Since we are already down here we will be driving up to Barnegat Light to kidnap some of these beautiful bi-valves and proceed to convince them that are destined for greatness courtesy of that well-seasoned frying pan.

                                    I will wait to post this in order to include the appropriate photographic evidence of an epic local seafood experience!

(Five hours later…… see below!

When you arrive at Scallop Mecca be sure to spend some time at some of this location’s other sights and sites! The trip up to the top of Old Barney is tremendous in its views. At its base you will find that short trail that walks you through one of the only virgin dune ecosystems left around here (check out the Blog Post of 7/29/23). Kelly’s ‘Old Barney’ serves breakfast and lunch and is about as an authentic old-school eatery as it gets, and Viking Village utilizes the old historic seamen’s shacks, re-purposed as quaint little shops. This row of shacks once sheltered the men as they repaired their nets and other equipment, readying them for another day at sea.

So, off with you now! Go to your local legitimate fish market (even the seafood department at Shop-Rite) ask your Scallop Snob questions and get ready for a treat! Better yet, make a day of it and visit Barnegat Light and you’ll really have a Dinner to Remember!

                                    Well….. we are back up in Maine visiting Paula’s son Brian and his family. This is the 4^th (?) year doing this run and if you’ve been following us from the beginning you already know how much we like Maine, especially the Down East Coast. You also know that one of those dreaded Art Appreciation lessons is forthcoming.

                                    I am so sorry about this, but it is out of my control as I find myself whisked away into the mind and world of my favorite artist, Andrew Wyeth. He used to live around here for many, many years. He met his wife Betsy here in the late 1930’s and it is because of her and her knowledge of the locale that brought him to the Olson Farm, the scene of his most famous painting, Christina’s World.

                                    I know that I’ve beaten this to death in a few posts from the past but this time we were able to visit the actual site of this iconic work of art. Located in Cushing Maine, right off the St. George River, and just up the road from Port Clyde, sits the Olson House. Still bearing all of the ravages of time that made this muse (?) of Andrew’s so attractive to him. That, and his relationship with Christina and her brother, Alvaro, who worked the farm after their parents passed until they, in turn, found their way into the family cemetery that sits down the hill on a wooded promontory overlooking the river.

                                    I always knew that it was here.

                                    I just never had the opportunity to visit it.

                                    I believe that I’ve stated before that Maine does not possess any roads that are straight. They all seem to swerve and curve around lakes, bays, mountains, and rivers. This makes their state motto, “Ya Can’t Get Theah from Heah”  stand on an element of truth. The Olson House sits way down on one of the peninsulas that jut southward from the mainland and gives this part of Maine its unique character, that of Down East. And unless the House is your destination, there is no way of just driving by it because the road dead ends shortly after it, falling off into the bay.

                                    But…. this was the year of opportunity.

                                    The Olson House has been on my Bucket List.

                                    And as we all know, these Lists have a habit of getting proportionally larger as our years on this planet dwindle down to us just being a “memory”.

                                    The time presented itself, the weather was perfect, and …. the place was closed.

                                    Yes, all of the parties that are collectively involved in the caring of this National Historic Landmark deemed it necessary to close it so that some important interior maintenance could be performed. But this was just fine with me as I know that I tend to be a ‘Location Experience Snob’ when it comes to doing, or visiting, something for the first time. I am not interested in sharing my experiences with hundreds of others. So, I knew that the average visitor would shy away from coming here because the information available listed it as ‘Closed’. But upon deeper investigation, it would be found that the grounds are indeed, ‘Open’.

                                    So we were lucky on all counts.

                                    Upon arrival the two other vehicles soon beat a retreat as their ‘time’ had expired at this site. That left just us to wander and appreciate the grounds and thank the thoughtful owners of the farm after the Olson’s that donated it to the Farnsworth Art Museum in Rockland, Maine. This museum is the northern repository of many a Wyeth family painting, and as such, the perfect organization to curate this farm.

The U.S. Department of the Interior states that the preservation of buildings is “the process of applying measures necessary to sustain the existing form, integrity and materials of a historic property.” Using minimally invasive approaches, they are taking measures to protect, stabilize, maintain, and repair the Olson House, which was designated a National Historic Landmark in 2011. It is nice to see that someone realizes that there is more to this “preservation” than just replacing old with new, that preserving the house without excessive restoration, allowing the evidence of its weathering over time to remain and balancing this aesthetic with the need to conserve this historic building. Hopefully, this is quite evidenced by the accompanying photos.

No one wants to visit a ‘Replica’.

Everyone wants an ‘Original’ (to the extent that it can remain so!)

On the day they met in the summer of 1939, seventeen-year-old Betsy James, who would later marry Andrew Wyeth, (who was twenty-two at the time) introduced him to Christina and Alvaro Olson. Betsy was a summer neighbor and friend of the Olsons, she saw the Olson House for the first time at the age of ten. She later described it as “looming up like a weathered ship stranded on a hilltop.” Betsy and Andrew married ten months later.

Over the next three decades, a growing friendship developed between the Wyeth’s and the Olson’s, as each summer Andrew sketched and painted aspects of the house and the everyday lives of the Olsons on their saltwater farm. Christina suffered from a polio-like disease that deprived her of walking anywhere. She refused to use a wheelchair and thus was forced to drag herself around the house and farm to get her chores done. It was this sight, Christina dragging herself up the hill, that Andrew witnessed from one of the upstairs windows that was the inspiration for that painting. It was Betsy who provided herself as the model of Christina in the field leaning and looking up at the distant house. Every book that I own on Andrew illustrates, by the use of his paintings, this relationship that developed and aged over the years, along with the inhabitants.

            Andrew didn’t throw any punches when it came to how he felt about the Olson’s and their farm. He once stated that he “wanted to be buried with Christina” and that is exactly what was done.

As you have noticed, I have elected to display the photos of the Olson House in Black and White. The ones in color came out splendidly but somehow or other it seemed fitting to use B&W as the medium of choice for their debut. I will add the color pics at the end, for your reference and pleasure. I would definitely be interested in your comments on this subject! Feel free to add a Yea or Nay at the end!

            When we were finished, we bade Alvaro, Christina, Betsy and Andrew goodbye and wove our way up the coast to Rockport, Rockland, and eventually Camden. Each is a great seaside port in their own right. We had lunch in Rockland, the largest of the three, at a dockside fresh seafood restaurant aptly named Archer’s on the Pier.

                        Where we had cheeseburgers.

                        Not a chance!

                        Lobster it was!

                        Lobster Roll for me and a Lobster Melt for Paula.

                        After lunch and a stroll around the harbor of Rockland, we proceeded north and found the Holy Grail in seasonally crowded Camden…..

                                    A convenient parking spot!

                                    Another saunter around this cute little town led us to a nice harborside bench in the shade which we shared with a nice older (?) local couple who shared some of their local knowledge with us.  We all had a good time critiquing and commenting on the comings and goings of the various dinghy’s, small sailboats, and larger schooners that ply these waters. We had been out on several of these over the years so the need to repeat that outing was not primary, but if any of you ever make it up here, make sure that an excursion on one of the day schooners is on your “To Experience” list!

                        Now all you need to do is come up here and visit these places for yourselves!

Now for the color photos!

That’s it!

                        There have been several times when I’ve advised anyone to stop what they are doing and proceed to GO, collect your $200, and just follow my suggestion.

                        This experience fits nicely into that Category.

                        You just need to be comfortable with pieces of raw, somewhat bloody, chicken in your hand. No worries, there is a glove.

                                    The backstory.

                                    We are now up in Southern Vermont, near Mount Snow, visiting Barb, Paula’s sister, for her 80^th Birthday (!) Barb brought Paula and me over to New Hampshire for rendezvous with some birds. They were big birds. Falcons and Hawks to be exact.

                                    We were at Monadnock (Moe-nad-nock) Falconry in Temple, New Hampshire where we met Mahood (a Harris’ Hawk /Parabuteo unicinctus) and his best friend, Henry (a Human/Homo sapiens). Together, all five of us went on what is called by Henry, a ‘Hawk Walk’. This is an hour and a half spent in a fully immersive experience learning about Hawks, Falcons, and Raptors in general and…… trying to help Mahood kick up some snacks!

                                    There is so much going on at this point that I should probably stop and explain this unusually symbiotic nature of the relationship between Henry (representing all Falconers over the last thousand or so years) and Mahood (representing several species of Raptors spanning that same time period.) You first need to know that Mahood and his kin can fly away any time that they would like to. Their hunting skills have not been diminished in any way by their relatively new partnership with the Falconer. The neat part is that they work together as a team to flush out tasty critters from wherever these little snacks are hiding. Mahood flew around from tree to tree, from gloved hand to gloved hand, back to a tree, up into the sky, back to a tree, back to a hand, many, many times over our Hawk Walk. It was fascinating to watch Mahood spy something in the grasses and give Henry “The Look” as if to say “Hey Big Guy! Go see if you can kick him out for me!”

                                    And if You don’t want to be on the receiving end of “The Look”, you best proceed and do what the hawk tells you to do!

                        That is where this bond takes place. The Hawk eventually learns that their Human will help find food. And, let’s be honest, it’s a big, bad world out there and even though most of these Raptors are at the top of the Food Chain, survival in the wilderness is still hard. So, even though they can absolutely fly away any time that they would like to, there is a relative comfort level of safety and sustenance that they enjoy. If they didn’t, then away they would go!

Back in 1959 in Detroit, I had a parakeet. Apparently, he did not like his surroundings because one day when Mom was cleaning his cage (there’s the difference?) he ‘flew the coop’ and was never seen again! Maybe that is the difference…. Caged animals are just that, they are not free… these raptors, even though they have ‘homes’ with their Handlers, are set free several times every day and could join up with Skippy, my old parakeet, any time that they would like to.

                                    So we were quite thrilled when Mahood came back to our gloved hand/arm! The glove is quite necessary as these birds have quite the grip which includes those sharp, pointy parts of their talons (feet). These are their first means of offense and defense. Those awesome looking sharp beaks are primarily there to rip through any tasty morsels that may come their way. And…. here’s a neat bit of Falcon Food Facts…. They store their ‘catch’ in their gullet until they are finished hunting. They then retreat to the relative safety of a big pine tree (or wherever they find) and do their best to hide themselves while they finish digesting supper. This way they do not expend energy on either activity (hunting or digesting) and just wait until the appropriate time.

                                    Henry was the perfect host as this is both his vocation and avocation. Henry’s story is as interesting as his flying cohorts. After reading in an undergraduate Latin(!) course, De arte venandi cum avibus, or Concerning the Art of Hunting with Birds, Henry decided to pursue this avian art of falconry. Henry was fascinated by the way that Fredrick the Great, (in the13^th Century) took this activity serious enough to write an entire treatise on these birds’ habits, eccentricities, and even their personalities! This in turn lead Henry to a Travelling Fellowship with the Ireland School of Falconry where he apprenticed with some of the finest Falconers in Europe. Henry now has his own set of apprentices as he has attained the lofty 😊 status of Master Falconer!

                        After our Hawk Walk Henry brought us inside to meet Pitch, a Red-Tailed Hawk and Pete, a Great Horned Owl. The Monadnock Falconry does get several injured birds a year and their goals are to repair and rehabilitate them so that they can return to the wild. In the case of Pete, he was found by a policeman twelve years ago and was unfortunately removed (with the best intentions) from the scene thus preventing his parents from any attempt to care for the little white fuzz-ball. Pete is now a resident of Monadnock as he had ‘imprinted’ on a human at an early age.

                        They (and a host of others being rehabilitated) are fortunately under the care of Henry Walters and his team at Monadnock Falconry. You too can experience this exclusive encounter with these magnificent birds! We had one of those “Once in a Lifetime” experiences with Henry and his friends in the hills of Southern New Hampshire…..

……..as I stated in the beginning….. Stop what you are doing and……

www.monadnockfalconry.com Located in Temple, New Hampshire

                        My grandparents had a house directly on the bay in Manahawkin, in the Beach Haven West section to be exact. We lived in Bergen County, up north, and would come down for weekends and for our summer vacations.

Even with all of the traveling that we’ve done as of late, this area of New Jersey remains my most highly favoritest place on the planet. In 1965 one could purchase a small house on one of the lagoons (canals), brandy-spankin’ new for $5,999.00. Obviously today that sum won’t even get you a bulkhead repair at your backyard dock. But those homes are still there and my dreams* of getting a boat again and having it in my backyard get my heart racing every year at this time when we visit the area.

          (* dreams : wistful wants and wishes that will probably never come true but are still tons of fun and very satisfying to have.)

                        “So Don, why are you boring us with your childhood reveries?”

                        I’m glad you asked that Mr. Real Estate Tycoon!

                        Because we’re back ‘down the shore’ as we say in Jersey visiting with Paula’s cousins, Carol and Glenn! And tonight, we are going to head south, past Manahawkin, almost to Atlantic City, and visit The Towne of Historic Smithville and have dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, The Smithville Inn.

My first acquaintance with this venerable old inn was probably in 1965. It was obviously for some special occasion (which I can’t recall) as a visit to it was not an ordinary event. Tonight, the event is a family reunion of sorts as Paula’s cousin from North Carolina (and his whole family) come north for a few weeks.

I can’t wait to go back!

                        “Please Don, do go on, we’re on the edge of our seats!”

                        Ok, if you insist!  

                        The genesis of this “Historic” Smithville is somewhat of a misnomer as some of it dates back to the early 1700’s but the vast majority of this locale was the brainchild of a local couple, Fred and Ethyl Noyes. They were on a walk through the woods along Route 9 one day back in 1951 and stumbled across the old remains of the real Smithville Inn. It was just a vestige of what it is now, but still, it was the start of what would become a rather nice collection of old buildings from the area.

                        Initially they built (or re-built) the Inn, added some new space, and opened a very successful restaurant. They soon added (by collecting) these old wooden structures from South Jersey, moved them to their property, and turned them into little retail specialty shops. Think antiques, a Christmas Store, a bakery, local tourist stuff, etc. There is a total of over fifty different shoppes, ten eateries, and a very nice Colonial Inn with about fifty rooms ready for you to stop and take a respite and maybe even procure sustenance on your travels.

                        But the best part is yet to come!

                        “Oh please Don, don’t stop now!                     

                        Ok, get this! Guess who was born right down the road from here….. I’ll give you some hints…..

                        – He’s very famous.

                        – He’s very old (born in 1735).

                        – He was the thirteenth child (yikes!) of Deborah Leeds.

So, the thirteenth child…. exceptionally unlucky! Hmmm…. Could it be that this child would be born as a member of New Jersey’s very own NHL franchise….. the Jersey Devils???

Not quite, but good guess!

                       

The Jersey Devil and his various legends were spawned, figuratively and literally, across from the Smithville Inn, just down the aptly named Leeds Point Road. The Leeds family can trace their lineage back to the very early days of this land, way before it was our country, and it was Deb’s unfortunate finding out that she was pregnant (for the 13^th time) that let her exclaim, “Let this one be the devil!”

Be careful what you wish for Deb! In 1735, she was in labor on a stormy night while her friends gathered around her. Unfortunately, (?) for her, the thirteenth child was born normally. However, it transformed into a creature with hooves, a goat’s head, bat wings, and a forked tail. Growling and screaming, the child beat everyone with its tail before flying up the chimney and heading into the pines. Now your kid has been wreaking havoc in the New Jersey Pinelands for 289 years!

                                    And since I only had a Coke as a beverage with my dinner, I did not have a Jersey Devil Sighting of my own. But be that as it may, the legends thankfully live on and there’s always next time!

Now, please don’t let this local legend scare you away! New Jersey (with all of its many faults and inadequacies) is an incredible place to visit! As former residents, it’s the classic place that you love to hate and can’t wait to leave but feel great when you come back to. It’s a paradox of emotions and experiences……. I promise you that if you decide to visit, you will not be disappointed, just ask Tony Soprano, he’ll make you an offer that you can’t refuse…..

Come here and be entertained on so many levels. 😎

                        “Boston is the only place that you can have a cold Sam Adams while looking at a cold Sam Adams” or so my grandson Augustus said to me as we were looking over Samuel Adams grave in the Old Granary Burying Ground in Boston. I’m fairly sure that he had been waiting quite a while to use that phrase in it’s proper location and context.

                        We spent the better part of the day walking the Freedom Trail in the older sections of downtown Boston with the grandkids Gus, Adelaide, and Eleanor. Boston has done a particularly good job of saving and restoring the landmarks from our Revolutionary War period (and before), immortalizing places such as the site of the Boston Massacre to the Old North Church. Every kid in America learns at one time or another about Paul Revere’s Ride or the story of “Old Ironsides” the U.S.S. Constitution.

                                    It is quite different actually being here.

                                    To be certain, this is where it all started.

                                    The Freedom Trail starts in/on the Boston Common, itself quite the landmark as the oldest public space in our country. The Trail is easily followed by walking an indicated red brick line that has been placed in the sidewalks and streets of Boston. Along with an accompanying pamphlet-style guide map and well-placed markers along the way, the stories and history of the exploits of many of our Founding Fathers really come to life.

                                    The series of events that eventually led to what became our Revolutionary War with Great Britain did not happen overnight, nor was it compact in nature. This hostile environment festered for many a year as England continued to squeeze more and more money (in the form of taxes) and exert more and more control over the Colonies that made up the eastern part of our portion of North America. The infamous and very unpopular, (think Taxation without Representation) Stamp Act was passed in 1765 by Parliament, so the Colonies were already not happy when the Boston Massacre occurred in early 1770. The first shot at Lexington was not fired until five years later in the spring of 1775 and, the War lasted another eight years until Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown in the fall of 1781, which was the beginning of the end as the Treaty of Paris was signed in1783 which finally halted the hostilities between what is now probably the two greatest allies on the planet.

                                    1770 to1783, that’s thirteen years of fighting for the freedom to control our own destinies. Thirteen years, one for each original colony…… maybe that was Destiny.

                                    More likely it was fortitude.

                                    But it all started here in Boston!

                                    Without the Sons of Liberty, a few of which were Samuel Adams, John Hancock, and Paul Revere from Boston, and others from most of the other colonies, that spark may have never been ignited. But it was, again, right here in Boston and you can visit and see for yourselves the close proximity of them all just by spending an afternoon walking in their proverbial footsteps here where it all began.

                                    A humbling experience to say the least.