I did promise you that I would show you something about Gratiot. Here it is.
Sorry that it is so underwhelming and anti-climactic but that’s about it. There are two bars, one gas station, and a collection of other older domiciles. We waved at Bill, one of the bar owners as Danny drove us through ‘town’. We know his name is Bill because Danny knows him, I did not make it up! I deliberately did not take any photos for several reasons, one was that it was kind of embarrassing to jump out of the truck and snap pics like were on a ride at Disneyland and second, there wasn’t anything remarkable about the bars, gas station or domiciles.
But…. have no fear! We did travel a few miles to visit the little town of New Glarus. This is opposed to (Old) Glarus, which is still in Europe, namely in Switzerland.
It’s fun to come across these little hamlets in the countryside that still embrace their folkloric beginnings from back in the day. You will find most of them are out in the country, miles from nowhere, making them somewhat isolated. That’s what makes them a little unique and special. These oases of ethnicity surround themselves with all the trappings of the Old World. They keep, or replicate, as much of the architecture and signage as they can, and most of the time you will find that a lot of the business still cling to their family roots that were sunk in years ago. If not, then at least the next generation of entrepreneurs are smart enough to know which side of their Brown Bread to put the old-world butter on and realize that this cultural respite is why people flock to their town for the day.
We did!
You can see the representative “Chalet” style here.
And older…. 1800’s here.
This is the Swiss United Church of Christ.
New Glarus is a tiny slab of Switzerland (minus the Alps) that was plopped here back in the 1800’s when immigrants liked its dairy land features and with that of course comes everyone’s favorite dairy product, Cheese! We are in the German-influenced regions of Switzerland. As independent as Switzerland is, it is also fairly small and a lot of its culture and all of its languages come from its larger neighbors namely Italy, France, and Germany. So that means that the language du jour is based on where you are located in the Homeland!
Ja! Und ve hadden ze bestest fooden en de GlarnerStube, a nice little place with on-draft Root Beer(!) and many other delicacies such as schnitzels, bratwursts, and fondues.
Could be in Switzerland, right?
Pork Schnitzel, Bratwurst, and a Beef Fondue.
This is not the draft root beer, but it requires mentioning! It is a Maple Flavored Root Beer!
After that we stopped in at the Chalet Cheese which is a dairy cooperative established back in 1885 by five dairy families. It is still here, now with thirteen families in shared ownership. Their products are all Swiss specialties, especially (obviously) Swiss, in its many forms, Limburger, with its many aromas (?) and they are re-kindling interests in some older recipes such as Liederkranz. These thirteen family farms generate over 100,000 pounds of milk per day and have numerous cheese (not cheesy!) awards not only in Wisconsin, but in World Competition also.
We did NOT get any Limburger!
Maybe the best part of this area is just that. The area. The effects of long-ago glaciers leaving rolling hills, and sweeping vistas behind as they exited, gives this region a very pleasant feel to it. The undulating sightlines of rows and rows of corn, interspaced with acres upon acres carpeted with soybean plants are quite satisfying! The farmers here also have a nice tradition (?) of keeping their producing fields surrounded by precisely mowed perimeters, especially along the roadways. There may be a practical reason for this, but I’m going to go with the natural neatness and tidiness that the Swiss are noted for!
Pretty as a picture!
More miles upon miles upon miles of Soybeans!
I often wondered where all of the oils needed to make the fryer shortening for the Chatterbox came from. The main ingredient is vegetable oil and the main vegetable used for this is the soybean plant. Just how much oil can you possibly squeeze out of some teeny-weeny bean? It can be only a teeny-weeny amount! We went through thousands and thousands of gallons of this stuff, and we were just one place! The collective amount of needed oils is a staggering figure to grasp.
The teeny-tiny All-Important Soybean!
I can now see how this is all possible.
As large an area as it is, these fields are just a teeny-tiny part of the vastness that is the Mid-West. That section of our country that feeds all of us and allows us to have French Fries to our hearts content!
A carpet of Soybeans!
So, the Lesson of the Day is (as you can now see) lots of teeny-tiny bits of anything makes lots and lots of stuff!
That ends our combined Geography, Economics, and Cultural class for today. There may be a similar one in the future, but only if I get Internet Access!
I do not know why I had it (barely, but enough to get that first Post out). It once was, but is now soon departed. (I’m blaming the nefarious Sunspots or other natural occurrences)
But no worries! The Laptop with my best friend Microsoft Word, is all charged up and working nicely. The phone still takes photos, but there they stay, safe within its billion gigathings, ready to spew forth whenever this situation gets addressed and that will not be until we pull up anchor, set the sails, cast off the lines, start the motors, taxi out, and accelerate to take-off speed. (to mix all of my favorite metaphors!)
This event will be at approximately 6 AM on Monday and since I am scheduled to be pilot on the first leg, this Posting Event won’t even be attempted for several hours and who knows what type of coverage awaits us in the Western Netherworld of this voyage!
So, when we get back to Zones of Coverage these Tardy Posts will be all addressed, stamped, and dropped off at the nearest Cyber Post Office for your eventual reading pleasure.
Just take that little toe of yours and step just that far over the Illinois/Wisconsin border just about fifty miles northwest of Chicago and Presto! Here you are!
And guess how far Gratiot, Wisconsin is from Augusta, New Jersey?
It’s far enough to qualify as a new World’s Record Driving Distance in One Day!
While we are positive that someone has driven more miles than us in a day, we are also quite confident in our latest claim to glory. We are confident because these World Records are quantified under the very strict guidelines of the “World Records of Anything Organization” and we are quite sure that our defining category, that of “Elderly Drivers from Augusta, NJ driving Westbound on Interstate Routes 80, 90, 94, and Local Highways 20 and 78” is safe in awarding us First Prize for both mileage and time driven in one day.
The new World’s Record (in our category) is…….
910 miles and 14.376 hours!
Our previous record was 774 miles and 13 hours.
But, why Gratiot and how in the name of all that’s confusingly pronounceable, does one enunciate said destination?
I will answer your second question first.
The locals say “Grass-sh*t”
It’s named for Henry Gratiot. He lived and worked here in the late 1700’s and early 1800’s. Coincidently, he was quite friendly with the local Native American tribe, the Winnebago’s. Hmmm….. maybe that’s why we were drawn to this area!
As for why Gratiot…..
That’s where Danny, Paula’s son is presently working. He’s one of the “Pipeline Inspectors” that need to be employed for all of our collective safety. The USA has a myriad of spiderweb-like underground pipelines delivering everything from natural gas and oil to chocolate milk to our urban centers for consumption. Someone has to make sure that these highly pressurized arteries are able to move their expensive cargo from Point A to Point B and lots of places in between. (I have been asked by the Authorities to check the taste of the Chocolate Milk in this location. I was honored to be able to help out. I did not even put a bill in for my services.)
When we looked at the Map trying to ascertain the best route to take from Augusta, New Jersey to Seeley Lake, Montana (which is another story to be related later) we discovered that the best route took us down a little dirt road in southern Wisconsin that had the campground where Danny stays at, right on it!
Wow!!! Who’d athunk that??? 😊
No, really, that’s exactly what happened!
We inserted the appropriate data into the Navi-Computer and (hoping that it avoided the destroyed planet of Alderaan) we discovered that we’d barely need to turn the wheel and we’d be here!
So our plan was to leave the Augusta environs and our friends at Yetters Diner early Saturday morning and put as many miles under the tires as we could before stopping for the night, probably around South Bend, Indiana. Danny’s day off is Sunday, so we figured that we’d start driving again early Sunday AM, arriving morning or so, spend the day and night, and then book it for Seeley Lake, Montana, first thing Monday morning.
There was no guarantee on how we’d feel come Saturday afternoon. We usually crash (oops! bad word!) er…. stop driving in the late afternoon.
But…..
What if we could pull this off?
What if we could keep going and arrive late evening?
That would mean that we’d have to be on the top of our game, which over the past few days I really wasn’t.
But…. again…. what if?
Turns out that with the right amount of time swapped between driving duties and co-piloting, the judicious use of not stopping except to roll into a rest area, Chinese Fire Drill the driving duties, and taking turns eating while not driving, we found that this may, in fact, be possible!
The key was me and my non-sleep issues that tend to give me a narcoleptic-type daytime personality.
I know!
Monster to the rescue!
Now we could make it to California if needed!
The Chicago Traffic helped us out by not being Chicago Traffic and we whisked our way through and found ourselves rolling into the Backyard Campground just as it was getting dark!
It felt like we were a taxiing jetliner as Danny confidently guided us into our berth, directly next to his.
Sometimes it’s like we’ve never left kindergarten.
I am referring to the large adhesive map of the United States that is plastered to the side of the motorhome. This apparatus has the outline of the Country, and you must fill it in with the various States that conveniently have their own shape and fit together like a jigsaw puzzle, but in this case, they are “Stickers.”
And…… they come with all of the pomp and circumstance attached to them as any self-deserving sticker should.
Except…..
These stickers are for adults, or at least persons that can pass as adults if only because they have attained an age that qualifies them as so.
Ahhh…. the “Little Kid” comes out in the best of us! PS…. see the ‘blank’ spot just to the left of Paula’s hand? Yup! North Dakota will be ours for the taking probably sometime tomorrow!
Otherwise, they should probably be classified as juveniles if only because of the way that they act when handed the next “Sticker” to be applied to the aforementioned adhesive map of the United States.
I am here to report to you that there was joy in the streets of Gratiot, Wisconsin last night. The townspeople all gathered ‘round as Miss Paula was handed the next “Sticker” to be applied to the ever-burgeoning map of the United States.
The crowd cheered as the ‘Sticker” was affixed in its very own position that was previously void of anything until we graced the State of Wisconsin with our presence, and therefore qualified for the “Sticker” to be taken out of the Secure Safe and placed in the trembling hands of Miss Paula. Any grammar-school teacher would have been proud of Paula’s concentration as she deftly placed Wisconsin in its once vacant place on the Map. As the cheering subsided, the phone rang in our Campground. It was the Governor calling to congratulate us on finally earning the right to “Stickify” the Map with his illustrious State.
We don’t know if the Governor of Hawaii will ever have the chance to make his call to us!
A representative photo of the delightful town of Boothbay Harbor.
Yesterday was spent in one of the most successful of the Maine Coastal Towns, that of Boothbay Harbor. Boothbay is maybe what you’d call a big Little Town and its location in the Mid-Coastal Region of Maine make it both very accessible and popular.
Its harbor is a good one, fairly sheltered behind some well-placed Islands and it is one of these islands that was our primary “destination” for the day. Still here with Paula’s son Brian and his wife April, we made our way down to the Coast, about an hour away from the home base in Readfield. Brian found a Harbor Cruise that was actually the ferry and “mail boat” for one of those islands.
The Novelty, our transportation for the day.
Squirrel Island is a summer community and has been since 1871 when their Association was founded. Don’t bring your car because you can’t get it there and these are no motor vehicles allowed anyway! Everything is ferried over by the Novelty, which is the boat that we were the passengers on. We watched a fair number of residents/visitors embark and disembark along with their supplies for their stay. And I guess someone’s fridge fritzified as a new one was on the next voyage after ours. The homes are quite nice and definitely not all of them could be categorized as small cottages. Electric power and water are supplied by the mainland, but all of the plumbing is above ground and must be drained for the winter, hence a “Summer Only” community.
Before embarking on our “mail run” we had lunch in a great little waterfront spot overlooking the harbor, and our future transportation. It was obviously quite convenient and practically guaranteed that we wouldn’t “miss the boat”!
April, Paula, and Brian awaiting our Pre-Boarding Three-Hour Tour Last Meal. But Gilligan failed to show up, so the trip only lasted an hour. Mr. and Mrs. Howell have a residence on the Island.
The joint on the right was our lunch spot. As you can see there is no shortage of “Waterfront Dining”!
There is also no shortage of photographic opportunities that highlight this great little harbor.
It’s not all touristy stuff going on either. Those hard-working blokes in the lobster industry are constantly checking their traps in the hopes of finding you next lunch or dinner inside.
Now for your Nautical Lessons! This is a Friendship Sloop. This one and her many relatives were born just up the Coast in Frienship, Maine. Designed as a workboat, most were built in the late 1800’s and early 1900’s. As your now educated eyes can plainly see, a prettier boat is not to be!
Sorry! I can’t stop myself! Here is another Friendship Sloop, the Bay Lady, taking some extremely lucky folks out for a cruise in the Harbor.
Oops! Sorry again! I don’t know how this one got in here, but this is another photo of the Bay Lady on a reach. That is Burnt Island Lighthouse in the distance. More on that coming up!
Here you are! Burnt Island Light. It was constructed in 1821 and is the second oldest Lighthouse in Maine (after Portland Head Light) The island got its name from the fact that in the olden days the shepherds would burn off the heavy vegetation, making room for grasses for sheep grazing.
We finally came to the mid-point of the cruise, Squirrel Island and its “Port”, seen here. There were a few industrious lads and lasses with carts that would take your belongings and transport them to your final destination.
I told you they were not tiny bungalows!
Ditto!
This was our route. Yellow line outward, with that mark indicating the Burnt Island Lighthouse, and the red line going back into Boothbay Harbor seen at the top right of the photo.
I’m really at a loss here explaining how these photos worm their way into this post. Someone should really do something about this! This is the schooner Eastwind. She is one of the many “Windjammers” that ply the waters of coastal Maine. You can book voyages from hours to days in length.
Now you’re in for a rare treat! This is the Wishing Star, a 1965 84′ Trumpy. Trumpys were the gold standard of motor yachts from the ’40’s through the 70’s. The Presidential Yacht, the USS Sequoia, was a Trumpy-built boat.
And just when you thought that your voyage of Maritime Vessel History was ending, what pops into view but a venerable old NEW JERSEY(!) oyster schooner! (The white one on the right) Built in 1886 in Mauricetown down in Cumberland County, she is the oldest schooner on the planet left of a vast fleet of oyster boats that supplied that industry with its catch. She has since been converted to a windjammer with staterooms that will accommodate about 20 passengers.
And, once again, the Freaky Forecasters from the Doom and Gloom School of Meteorology, who maintained that it was to be cloudy all day long forgot to just look out their windows. More and more we realize that unless it is an Event of Sizeable Proportions, to actually go about our plans and have a nice day out anyway!
This is us and the Lighthouse in the background, and clear blue skies overhead!
It’s probably a good bet that most of us enjoy traveling.
Some folks do resist leaving their familiar environs and need to be pried from their home turf with a dory oar, but by and large, when placed in a place of enchantment, even they have to admit that there’s something about seeing someplace new and exciting (?)
I used the question mark there on purpose.
Because not every place that we visit can be labeled “exciting” now can it?
Sometimes we visit places that are just plain old satisfying, and if that’s all we get, then that’s fine too.
If you smell a caveat coming with all of this build-up being thrown at you, you would be:
1.) Correct
2.) Have been reading this Blog from its Beginning several years ago!
We are still in the middle of our Swing Through New England and Visit the Relatives Tour. And that suits us just fine. Currently we are in Maine visiting Paula’s son Brian and his wife April. They live just a tad west of the capital of Augusta, out in the Woods and Lakes Country, which is most of what Maine is made up of.
In Rockland, on the coast of Maine having lunch!
Mosquitos are the main inhabitants of this region, which makes me crazy. I am known throughout the Entomology World; they affectionately call me the Mosquito Munching Magnet. They peer through the windows of whatever vehicle or building that I am in, impatiently waiting for me to exit and run for my life until I reach the safety of the next enclosure. These flying buzz-saws rely on my annual visit to this area to ingest enough of my O+ Blood to last them the entire year.
Needless to say, I am burdened (and by proximity, anyone that I’m with) by this malaise and turn to the only remedy that is currently available to me here and that is, Take a Trip To The Maine Coast!
So, now we’re back to the Traveling Portion of this entry.
For those of you that have never been to the Coast of Maine, drop what you are doing and get over here! This is one example of a region of our Nation that I am not afraid of throwing superlatives at! I harbor no fears that I can build this area up to the point of when you visit, you experience any sort of Over Promising / Under Delivering!
So Don, where exactly does this caveat of yours fit into this?
I’m glad you asked that, Mr. Art Appreciation 101!
First, we will need to jump into Mr. Peabody’s Way-Back Machine (with his assistant Sherman) and go back just one year. If you will recall in that episode our Traveling Nerd was all excited because a visit to The Farnsworth Art Museum, located in the charming seaport of Rockland, Maine was on the Itinerary. This repository of mostly local Art, with an extremely high emphasis on the Wyeth family. It is one of the Holy Grails and Grand Temples dedicated to N.C. Wyeth and his family, namely his son Andrew and his grandson, Jamie.
But alas, upon entering said facility, where his absolutely most favoritest painting in the world is housed, they informed him that due to Covid-Related Staffing Issues, the floor that this painting, which is entitled Her Room, was closed.
So, why this painting Don?
I’m glad you asked that one Ms. Inquiring Minds Want to Know!
(Content Alert! This is where the Boring Part gets injected into the Blog)
We all experience art every single day of our lives. It may be just an illustration for a product in a magazine, or some framed something on our neighbors wall, or by choice, Art for Art’s sake, a deliberately sketched, drawn, or painted piece of work.
And we all react to these individual examples whether we know it or not. When we visit a gallery, museum of any place that exhibits artwork, we instantly become critics, because that’s what we do.
And that’s OK.
Because we are allowed to like or dislike something without having to explain to anyone our choices. It’s our own opinion.
“I hate Modern Art!”
“I don’t see anything worthwhile in a Still Life!”
“If it’s not an Oil, I’m not interested!”
All of these statements can stand on their own because everyone is entitled to their opinions. I never really understood art. It was always just something that I looked at and either immediately liked or disliked. No one ever (or I never gave anyone the chance to) explain anything about it to me.
Until.
Until a visit to the National Gallery in London, where I went with another person who was an Art Major. We toured this incredible museum with those little headphones on which explained stuff to me.
“Oh, I get it! That’s what’s going on in this painting!”
And that led to an understanding that Art is an expression of the Artist. An extension of what was going on at the time in their lives, the world, or anything else that may influence a particular work. We have to admit though, that not every work of art has a deep-rooted meaning behind it. When one picks up a brush and replicates a simple scene, I doubt that in years to come that someone else will stare at that piece of art and say, “Ahh, that has to be a ‘Don Hall’, I’m sure that it’s from his ‘Bug Period’, notice his anguish and torment from mosquitoes. It is quite obvious in this piece.”
Or something like that.
In my case, it was right here on the Coast of Maine that my Epiphany was realized. The Wyeth family had a home here in the nifty little coastal village of Port Clyde. (You may remember those little cans of Port Clyde Sardines in the grocery store). I had in the past spent some time in Port Clyde courtesy of a friend (the same one that I went to the Gallery in London with) whose family had one of those incredibly quaint seaside cottages that are the perfect sets for a movie. It was that good!
So, an interest in “local” stuff was kindled. I was vaguely familiar with the Wyeth family and their artwork, and you are too, whether you know it or not. I will prove this to you now.
Here is an example of N.C.’s work. He was more of an ‘illustrator”. This example is from “Kidnapped”. N.C. illustrated may a book of adventure.
This is also an N.C. work. It is a scene painted up on the hills overlooking Port Clyde. You can see the cannery in the background. Those ‘billowing’ sheets are an example of how he treated ‘clouds’ in many of his illustrations.
Note ‘clouds’ in this painting of Pirates!
This is “Christina’s World” by Andrew Wyeth, easily his most famous painting. Andrew spent the better part of twenty years painting the home of Christina, her brother Alvano, and their farm. By the way, Christina was actually an elderly crippled lady when this was painted. She had lived here her entire life.
See! I told you so!
Anyway, for me, having experienced this part of Maine with its incredible coastline, infinite tree-lined islands, and cozy harbors, I was primed for an experience that I did not know that I was going to have, or know that I needed.
That experience was the painting of Andrew Wyeth entitled, Her Room.
The back story;
It was on July 20th, 1963. There was a Total Eclipse of the Sun, and its shadow was cast across the planet with the ‘Down East’ region of Maine directly in its path. Andrew and his wife Betsy lived in a home on the banks of the St. George River in Cushing. The St. George is an arm of the sea projecting itself into an already crannied coastline. The day was obviously ominous during the Event, which only added to the parent’s concern as their children were out on a boat somewhere on the river and it was getting late. Andrew and Betsy were startled when a sudden gust of wind slammed open the door of the cottage frightening them. This event steeled itself in Andrew’s Mind’s Eye and the rest is history.
This is the painting, Her Room. the Her is a reference to Andrew’s wife Betsy. It was her room for decorating, exampled by the sequence of shells on the windowsill, the sea chest, and the pinkish curtains. Please note the use of the late-day ominous light splayed across the door when it slammed open. Note the emptiness and lack of activity of the St. George River beyond.
For me, the first time that I saw this painting, my throat tightened, and I didn’t know why. The scene was obviously somewhat familiar to me, as Cushing is right around the corner from Port Clyde. But what else happened to me? What chord did this two-dimensional replication of an event strike in me?
Probably the most significant aspect of this painting
This was my Epiphany. This is when I realized that an artist, through the interpretation of their experience, using their skills, could transport someone into their mind and by extension, into that scene.
I’m sure by now that you can see that a little knowledge is dangerous! 😊
On to more Art In New England!
Have you ever heard of Edward Hopper?
Well, we just left Cape Ann in Massachusetts where there was an exhibit of his works being presented by the Cape Ann Museum. He had spent many a summer there in the early 1900’s. Unfortunately for me, the only time that I had available to visit was on Monday and they were closed on Mondays.
Oh well.
But! Upon this year’s visit to The Farnsworth, I learned that there was a Double Exhibit (!) going on that was showing the combined works of Andrew Wyeth and Edward Hopper! They both had spent time here and accordingly painted some of the same scenes almost thirty years apart. Mr. Hopper was there in the 20’s while Mr. Wyeth lived here in the 40’s and 50’s.
Here is an example of Edward Hopper’s work. It is a harborside scene in Rockland, painted from the deck of an abandoned schooner.
Basically, the same scene thirty years later by Andrew Wyeth. Note the schooner is no longer there, and obviously two vastly different styles.
This is a better example of Hopper’s style. You may have seen some of his works without even knowing who the artist was.
Yay!!!!
I get to have my cake and eat it too!
Now, I know that you’re all asking, “Who in the name of St. Watercolor is Edward Hopper?
Once again, I will show you that you are familiar with at least one piece of his collection.
I’m sure that you are somewhat familiar with this work. Even if it’s a more modern pirated example showing Marilyn Monroe, James Dean, Frank Sinatra, or Elvis Presley as some of the characters.
See! Told you again!
By now either I’ve bored you to tears or you’ve managed to hack your way through this post and have already booked your trip to this part of Maine. You do not have to visit any Art Museums whilst you are here. Nor do you need to poke your heads into any of the numerous Galleries that dot the streets of these little towns.
But either way, I predict somewhat of a life-altering experience….. if you just let it happen.
The Ardele passsing Ten-Pound Light on a Harbor Tour.
The first stop on our New England Foray – 2023 was the decidedly sea coastal environs of Cape Ann, Massachusetts. Cape Ann is the home of Gloucester, Rockport, Essex, and Manchester-by-the-Sea. And Manchester-by-the-Sea is home to my son Donny and his wife Hilary, and the kids, Augustus, Adelaide, and Eleanor (twins!)
This place will be familiar to some of you who have been following the Travels since The Beginning back in 2020. For the rest of you this may be the first time that you have been to this part of the country. Cape Ann is less than an hour north of Boston, but it may as well be 100 miles away. It has more of a “Down East” Maine vibe than anything else and that’s just fine with us!
Johnathon Livingston Seagull’s relatives were in abundance!
While we were here, Gloucester celebrated its 400th Anniversary as the first fishing port in the New World. I can still see the Gorton’s of Gloucester Fisherman staring at me from the box of fish sticks that were the staple of a Friday Night dinner in our household growing up! That figure, immortalized as a bronze statue stands watch over the harbor here where many a person has gone to sea and quite a few have failed to return. It’s a way of life in this small village. This is also the port from which the Andrea Gail embarked on that fateful voyage during the Perfect Storm back in 1991. They still put to sea from here as Gloucester is a major landing port for everything from scallops to swordfish. History runs deep here, even at low tide.
On the way out……
Two coming back in.
Those weather gods must like everyone around here because the day could not have been better! There were many activities planned for this event; music, street fairs, sailboat races, and something called the Lobster Crate Race. Apparently, you can string a bunch of lobster crates together in the water and attempt to cross them. The totals were not determined by the act of successfully crossing the expanse of harbor-water, but by how many times you were able to do so, the Grand Total of ‘feet traversed’ being the deciding factor.
It’s easy to see how the heavier you are, the more difficult this is!
We were watching my grandson Augustus, in his sailboat race so I was only able to snap a few pics of the kids (Featherweights) crossing these undulating platforms with somewhat of an ease. Apparently the excitement starts when the adults (heavyweights?) start their part of the contest!
Sailboat races are by their nature difficult to see, never mind watch! They need to be held ‘offshore’ for obvious reasons! Then mix in the confusing rules by which they race, and you’ve got a recipe for a dish that only “Sailing” people would enjoy and understand. We were fortunate that the kids have been in sailing lessons for the entire three seasons that they’ve been here, and they love it! Donny and Hilary have started in a Thursday Night Adult sailing class run by the same folks that teach the kids. This entire area is sailboat/motorboat crazy as you may imagine. Everything is “waterfront” here! Luck was running rampant for us this weekend as this particular Racing Venue afforded us a unique opportunity to watch the races. Even the Parents were excited because unless you have a boat, watching your kid race is extremely difficult!
Nice background, huh?
Rounding a mark…… Yes, this looks confusing, but they really do know what they’re doing!
That looks a little better!
We stayed at our usual campground here and that’s a good thing because it’s the only campground that’s on the Cape! The roads are crazy narrow which makes getting in and out of here something that is done at an unusually slow speed, which is fine with us as this rig is not built for speed and agility!
But the view is Spectacular!
View from our site.
The evening was spent back at their house engaged in an activity that was quite new for us. That of making our own “Brick Oven” Pizzas!
Donny, the main “Pizza Guy” shuffling one around.
The kids on the “assembly” line.
Paula’s pizza before……
And after. It seems a tad “crispy” on the edges, cuz this one kind of got away from us! But as you can still see, it was really good!
This little wood-fired oven gets up to 800 degrees in about seven minutes with just a few small pieces of wood! The results are yummy and it’s fun to try and work the dough. Needless to say, we will not be asked to fill in down at Mario’s Pizza any time soon!
With Atlantic City 15 miles in the background, these fisher-folk are attempting to catch some dinner on the southern tip of LBI.
(This is a Twelve Minute read)
Well, here we are again!
No, we haven’t done anything really noteworthy.
In other words, worthy enough to be included in the Blog.
Back in the Beginning, I made a promise to you that I would not include the mundane, everyday happenings in this missive. And while that may be a tad subjective in its application, I can assure you that on this end, I believe that I’ve done just that.
I hope and pray that you have never been bored(!) reading any of these posts!
So ….. here we are back at the Jersey Shore for the gazillionth time in our lives!
But…… only the third time since we started Traveling.
And….. this is the first time here since we went on the Cruise and we have many more folks from around the country following the Blog who have never been to the New Jersey Shore and to them I say, Welcome!
Yes, there is surfing in New Jersey! As a matter of fact, the largest Surf Shop on the planet is here! The Ron Jon Surf Shop and its cousins in Florida and around the world is centered right here in the town of…. Ship Bottom!
While New Jersey is rather small compared to the rest of the States and can have a questionable reputation with regards to some subjects. Superfund Sites, the Mob (Tony Soprano lives here!), the New Jersey Turnpike, and whether it’s Taylor Ham or Pork Roll, all are included in a list that goes on…. and on…..
But! …… there is one thing that the entire nation agrees on and that is the quality of our beaches! New Jersey consistently ranks high when anyone’s ranking of “The Best Beaches in the …..” comes out.
A typical southern New Jersey beach, this one is in Wildwood.
We are blessed with incredibly fine, white sand, and for the most part, expansive beaches. I say “for the most part” because as of late, the width of these attractive delineators between the ocean and the land has been waxing and waning, especially along the northern part of the coast.
The causes are many and varied and most of them have to do with natural reasons. These causes and effects are mostly natural geological and hydrological sequences….. but, then of course, there’s us.
“Us” as in civilization.
“Us” as in ‘progress’.
“Us” as in ‘Waterfront Property for Sale!’
Ever since Mr. Columbus sailed over here and discovered a land that was already inhabited, (thank you) we have coveted that narrow strip of terra firma that lies between the magnificence of the seas and the mundaneness of the terrestrial.
(I know that this is all subjective and there are many out there that prefer the Interior, but run with me on this one for a bit, will you?)
Ol’ Chris zooms back to Spain, throws the lines of the Nina to the dock workers, hails a cab to the Palace, runs up the steps and bursts breathlessly into the Throne room, “Queeny baby! Wait ‘til you see what I’ve discovered! Islands! Beaches! Girls! I can see It now! Rows and rows of condos and casinos all up and down the shoreline! Right next to the water! You’ll be able to step right out of your front door and dive right in! It’ll be great! Lets get the investors lined up before someone else does!”
Or something like that.
Anyway, I get it. Who doesn’t like waterfront property? Especially when it comes to Ocean Front!
Expansive views out over the waves , constrained only by the weather and the curvature of the earth!
Ok Don, why in the name of all that’s sandy are you bringing this up?
I’m glad you asked that Mr. Beach Umbrella!
Up on the northern tip of Long Beach Island (or LBI as it’s known here in Jersey) sits a wonderful example of a lighthouse and while everyone has their favorite one, you’ll be hard pressed not to be impressed with Barnegat Light. A fine example of mid-19th century lighthouse engineering she is!
Is this not a wonderful example of a Gorgeous Lighthouse?
So, around this lighthouse is Barnegat Light State Park, and in this Park, between the Lighthouse and the shoreline, lies an original, non-messed up, smallish (relatively) patch of wonderful Dune Ecology.
Check out the ‘height’ of the foreground.
Note the upward sloping…… and the indigenous vegetation!
Does this look like a sand dune to you?
This is the type of stuff that used to keep the shorelines relatively safe from erosion and storms before….
Before the CCC (Christopher Columbus Condo’s) and their accoutrements came along.
Now we have the Army Corps of Engineers trying to un-do what hundreds of years of “doing” has done! Their efforts are valiant, but there’s some validity to that old adage about ‘shoveling sand against the tide’. There is a reason that these old sayings are so good. They eventually circle back to their original genesis and make all of us look foolish!
For those of you who do not live in New Jersey and therefore are not acquainted with the latest Garden State dilemma, that of the Vanishing Beaches, I will attempt to explain. Sands move up and down the coast all the time. This is a very natural occurrence.
For example, the Barnegat Inlet, at which the Barnegat Lighthouse sits on its southern side (which is on the very northernmost point of LBI) used to be around a mile or so further north than it is today. This ‘Southern Migration” which saw the sand being eroded from the northern side and deposited on its southern side came to a screeching halt in the early 1940’s with the construction of the North Jetty. This was all well and good and it did stop that southern migration of Barnegat Inlet, but we all know what happens when we try and thwart the efforts of Mom! She just makes our lives miserable and wreaks havoc in other ways! If you thought for a minute that all of that sand that naturally worked its way down the coast was just going to miraculously stop, well then, you (and the Army Corps of Engineers) have another thought coming! Those sands got sucked into the Inlet and created a myriad of ever-shifting shoals that made navigation through that area quite a challenge!
I can attest to that challenge as I frequently went into the Inlet just to see what was going on. Life vests on, was the order of the day as the amount of boat traffic, with their ensuing wakes, coupled with the ebb and flow of the competing tidal forces, mixed with those constantly changing positions of the shoals and sand bars, made for a Voyage of Excitement! Throw in the fishermen who delighted in fishing the Inlet and clogging the channels, on the changing of the tides and you’ve got the makings of a Maritime Demolition Derby!
So, as you can see, this was entirely unacceptable, and the Corps started to constantly dredge our Subject Inlet in an effort to keep it somewhat viable.
Not so fast there Mr. Giant Sandcastle!
The Corps never hangs around anything on a permanent basis, it gets in, fixes (?) it, and gets out! So, a viable, more permanent, solution was needed to be found. But our valiant Corps moves slower than the sand it was fighting, and it wasn’t until the 1990’s that another project was commenced in an effort to “fix” everything.
The Inlet was the key element here and trying to keep it open and relatively free from that shoaling issue was the goal. This was accomplished by the construction of a new South Jetty that ran the better part of a mile from the tip of the Inlet (the base of the Lighthouse) due east, out into the ocean. Speaking of the base of the lighthouse, there were many other projects needed over the years to keep it from toppling into the Inlet. Remember that the Inlet was once a mile north of its present position! Say, like back in the 1700’s. Well when the Lighthouse was constructed (1850’s) the base of the lighthouse was only a half-mile plus away from the Inlet!
But, as usual, memories are short and so the location of a big house to hold the Lightkeepers and their families was decided on and then constructed.
In its heyday, a beautiful home it was!
“There! That ought ta do it! We’re plenty safe here! Lets build ourselves a really nice Victorian style Keepers Cottage, big enough for three Lighthouse Keepers and their families to live in!” we’ll be safe enough here!” Yay!!!!!
Oops!
In just the relatively short span of thirty years, and Several Storms later, found the encroaching shoreline less than three hundred feet away.
Yikes!
Now we’re in trouble! And, to borrow an apropos phrase here, “Like the Sands through an Hourglass, so are the Days of ourKeeper’s Cottage”. You can tell by now, these days are certainly numbered and in the early 1920’s after having been abandoned and sold for scrap, the gorgeous Lighthouse Keeper’s Cottage was no more, its location was now the new, closer-than-ever inlet!
One more storm and the Keeper’s Cottage started to crumble into the Inlet.
Hence the myriad of projects over the years spanning the time between its construction and the latest “Fix” of the 1990’s, the New South Jetty.
This was a massive project requiring bodacious boulders to be placed in a line running straight out from the base of the Lighthouse. These boulders were deftly placed as if it were a giant game of ‘Tetris’, fine flat tops suitable for both walking on and the pouring of a nice concrete walkway that runs about a quarter of the way out from the Lighthouse.
Looking due East, out into the Atlantic. This is the concrete covered walkway that covers about a quarter of the new jetty.
One of the effects of this new Southern Jetty was that all of the area behind it filled with sand until the old shoreline was almost a mile from the new shoreline.
Oops again!
The folks living in the town of Barnegat Light, who once had “Ocean Front Property”, well, technically they still did, but the water was a mile away! I can hear it now,
“You advertised this home as ‘Beachfront’! I can’t even see the ocean from here!”
“Well…ahh, yea,…. at least you’re safe from the Storms!”
The aqua-colored area is the part that got filled in after the new south jetty (long yellow line) was constructed. The red dot is the Lighthouse, and you can see the old shoreline headed southward. The homes along here used to be “Oceanfront”!
Which brings us full-circle and back to the Sand Dune Dilemma. Over the years the dunes have been cut down, moved, bulldozed, built upon, and every other thing that could be done to these marvelous natural Protectors, in the name of “The View.”
And since Storms of Monstrous Proportions sometimes took place with a multitude of decades between them, well you all know about how our memories work when it come to things that we need, want, and gotta have…. They go Poof!
“What storms?”
“We don’t see no stinkin’ Storms!”
And just like that, the building boom extended its way out, and up and over our friends the Dunes, until they are but anthills that are just considered a nuisance to be crossed when navigating one’s way to the Beach!
Until….. Ash Wednesday of 1962.
This was the ‘Storm of the Century’!
It was not a hurricane. It was a Nor’easter. For those of you who are not from this part of the country, Nor’easter’s are the storms that are bred as low pressure systems in the Southeast, make their way across the land, hit the Ocean/Gulf Stream, and set their beady little eyes on the Northeast of the USA. And while they may not pack the seventy-five plus miles per hour winds that make it officially a hurricane, they can offer up a wallop of incredible proportions and deliver that thumping to the very built-up seaside towns of this area.
And linger.
Sometimes for over a day, which means several tide cycles, which means walls of water after walls of water being pushed towards the shore with nothing to stop them.
Because…… the stinkin’ dunes were obliterated as we all wanted an Ocean View and easy access to the Beach!
Oops again! How many times do we need one of these before we have the message sink into our now waterlogged brains?
The answer seems to have come in what legitimately now can be called “The Storm of the Century.”
“Superstorm Sandy” was her name, and her effects can still be seen and felt up and down the Jersey Shore. I know this because of our annual stay in Beach Haven courtesy of my sister and her husband. We have been their guests from before that time, up to, and including the present.
The date was October 29, 2012, which luckily (tongue in cheek) for the environs coincided with not only a high tide, but a full moon as well! She made her way up the coast and when she arrived offshore here, she made a complete 90 degree turn to the west and slammed into our coastline with her “eye” centered around Atlantic City. Which meant that the brunt of the storm was delivered everywhere to the north. Storm surges ranged from nine feet to a little over fourteen feet. The average elevation above sea level of the barrier islands that line most of our coast is about five feet. So, now with really no effective dune system to help deflect the storm-driven onslaught, the towns up and down the state were inundated.
This is not just a ‘local’ occurrence!
After that beating, and the remembrances of storms not too long ago, plus the threat of rising sea levels, etc. folks started getting serious about the dunes. Bulldozers pushed mountains of sand up in an effort to kick-start Mother Nature’s process. The convenient valleys dug into the dunes at the end of every street so that it was easy to walk over said dunes and get to the ocean, were replaced with angled pathways that angled up and over the dunes without making a convenient “cut” that just allowed water to flow through negating the value of any dune around it. Rows and rows of dune grasses were planted to get that all-important part going (and growing) again. The dune grasses are what capture the wind-blown sand particles and keep them on the dunes, perpetuating their existence. They also become anchors for other seeds, seeds of larger plants that anchor even better and really keep the dunes static.
As you can see from these two photos, the dune grasses and their friends are starting to take hold and do their jobs.
Now the downside.
“Hey! I can’t see the ocean from my house anymore!”
Well, at least your house is a lot safer than before.
“But I still can’t see the Ocean!”
Yes, but your house hopefully won’t need to be entirely rebuilt every time there’s a Big One.
“Yea, but I wanna see the waves!”
Ok, knucklehead, the rest of the state is tired of bailing you out so that you have a pretty view! Suck it up and realize that this is the way the Mother Nature intended for it to be and unless you have a direct line to her and ask her to “Pretty please, don’t ever come again”, you’re gonna have to get used to it!
“Ok.”
I think that it’s safe to say that this reality has finally sunk in, and the aforementioned conversational sequence is a thing of the past.
We are still struggling with the width of the useable beaches because the sand keeps shifting and to the average person, it just “goes away.” The united efforts of the officials try their best to remedy this situation by pumping sand from offshore, up and onto, the beaches, but again, this is mostly a temporary fix because as we all know, Nature “abhors a vacuum” and those holes and valleys of sucked up sand want and need to be filled back in. And where do you think that all of this sand comes from?
I ‘da know….. maybe some from exactly where we just pumped it to?
This kind of brings us back to the beginning. The next time that you find yourself down the shore and at Barnegat Light, take a few minutes and walk the trail that showcases the uniqueness and beauty of the sand dune ecology of a barrier island. It’s all of .2 miles in length, but halfway in you feel as if you’ve been transported back in time to when this was the way that it was, Mother Nature protecting herself and anyone else that cares to pay attention.
This is that wonderful little patch of original dunes! Check out how close the Lighthouse is to the inlet! That’s the part that was a half-mile away when it was constructed!
As you can see, any time that you try and thwart Mom and bend her to the Will of the People, you’re just asking for trouble. Maybe not right now, but sometime in the future She comes around and wants to be paid back.
And the interest rate is usually exorbitant.
A sunset from the top of the house in Beach Haven. This view is obviously looking west, over the Bay and then the mainland.
Our next destination…. “Second star to the right and straight on ’til morning….” J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan
So Don, when you’re not traveling around what do you do to keep yourself busy?
I’m glad you asked that my Inquiring Friends!
Actually, as I look back on my working days I wonder where I found the time to show up for my job! “Retirement” I have found out, is only applicable to the art of “Gainful Employment” because I am as busy as I’ve ever been and that suits me just fine!
That’s all well and good Don, but you haven’t answered our question.
Right. Ok then, I spend most of my time trying to figure out where we can stuff extra “acquiring’s” into the very finite space of the motorhome. This somewhat of a “negative” was turned into somewhat of a “positive” on the Global Voyage. Racked with guilt about not buying Exquisite Souvenirs at every Port of Call, we found that the Reality Check of having absolutely nowhere to display, or store, said souvenirs was our only solace. This fact probably saved us millions of dollars of unnecessary chachkies. Well, it saved me that because Paula is definitely the more thriftier of us and doesn’t (thankfully) hesitate to say No when it is required (which in trying to counter my spending habits is most of the time!)
This Space Exploration began as soon as we acquired the motorhome because downsizing from an entire house full of “stuff” and an additional two and a half car garage full of Very Important Stuff, was quite daunting. We were successful on so many levels but trying to jam the items that we deemed to be the UltimateItems Needed For Survival still required some heavy-duty thought.
That’s where all of the sleepless nights spent conjuring up Plans For Extra Storage Space proved valuable. Adding onto a motorhome is not possible unless you drag a trailer behind you, and that is not practical. The next best solution is to look around inside and try and find places that the engineers missed that can be turned into Storage. On this subject we have been moderately successful because most of the places inside are already in the Used-Up mode.
The first thing that we did was to take out the bunk beds and make that entire area into a Hobby Center (admittedly mostly for me) but we also worked into this plan two small filing cabinets that hold Important Papers and one was modified by removing one of the drawers and making a nice shelf for our printer to live. Many items get repaired here and the space has proved valuable if only to help keep me occupied.
Before….. the Bunk Area/ extra dinette. The upper bunk goes higher at the flip of a a switch.
After….. note filing cabinets/printer bungalow underneath each side.
That project was about the extent of what we were able to do until just recently. Finding that there were more opportunities for “improvements” took awhile as the flaws of the Initial Design needed to be exposed. Take for example the two large cabinets that hang above the windshield. They are fairly cavernous by design but lack any kind of ability to have items stay stable during transport.
The door lifts up, and the contents spew forth!
You know the old saying, “Be careful when opening overhead compartments as items may have shifted during flight.” We never open these guys when we are driving, lest the landslide of maps, Cd’s, hats, and such come tumbling forth and bury the driver. The design works well if all you store up there are folded bath towels as stacking things is impossible. So, a few days ago I procured some small pieces of quarter-inch plywood and a length of 1×6 to make three sets of shelves that span the width of the cabinets. Now we can stack to our hearts content and not only have a more practical storage area, but we have negated the questionable practice of opening them during flight!
Much more betterer!
Still needing some extra space for our Memories Books, I scoured any and all possible locations seeking “voids” that hereto for went unnoticed and hence, unused. Behind the large TV there is a wall/cabinet that is accessed through the smaller of the two bathrooms.
This door leads into the mysterious realm of the inner walls and holds anything that we can jam into it.
This cabinet is where the towels, toilet paper, paper towels, and some cleaning supplies call home. But…. it only extends about two-thirds of the length of the wall that holds the TV. This is practical because it would be impossible to reach that far back into it even if it were available. Looking closely, I determined that if the correct size hole were cut into the face of this wall/cabinet that there would be enough room to install two shelves that could store anything, especially books.
Here you can see the plywood back of that storage area accessed through the bathroom. Note all the extra Wasted Space!
Two shelves, trim, and some black paint later……
Waiting for Paula to exit the state and be in Vermont to visit with Barb her sister, I hastily went to Lowes and procured the necessary items needed for this project. It took a bit of finagling but finally it all came together, and the end result was exactly how I had envisioned it! Better yet, it is all finished, and the workspace is cleaned up and tools are put away, long before Paula gets home!
Now, the shelves wait patiently for the books!
Speaking of tools, keeping them organized and accessible at the same time is another quandary that needed to be dealt with. The “Basement” as it is called, is quite large but it is also quite deep which means that things need to be extracted with a certain amount of effort, as only some things are front and center. I solved some of this issue when I had to open up numerous cases in search of the one tool that I was needing at the time. Looking around I determined that the inside of the large cargo doors would make a nifty spot for some tools that would be readily accessible. This modification has been incredibly successful!
Voila!
So, that’s what I do when we’re not traveling around!
My problem is that we have now definitely run out of possible voids in the woodwork and further Space Exploration will need to be confined to the astronomical kind!
This is one of Paula’s favorites to talk about, I think mainly because she was driving at the time, and I was navigating! This was back in the beginning of our Travels and it is titled:
“Would You Like A Sunroof With That Sir?
Scene: Officers Jim Reed and Pete Malloy (Kent McCord / Martin Milner) in Squad Car patrolling streets on the outskirts of Corpus Christi, Texas. Usual banter between them when the radio crackles to life:
“One Adam -Twelve, see the man in the motorhome stuck under the Route 77 northbound underpass to Labonte Park.”
Reed:“Roger Dispatch, we’re on our way.” (Turning to Malloy) “Again?”
Malloy: (Shaking his head in disgust) “Jeez! When are these motorhome Bozos gonna learn that you can’t squeeze large solid objects under a low bridge? It’s not like there isn’t a sign there!”
Reed:“Yea, this’ll make it, what, three so far this week? I wish I had the local RV roof repair concession around here!”
Malloy: (Rolling his eyes) “Wonder what we’ll find this time, the last guy was going so fast he peeled it back like a can of sardines! Did you catch the look on his wife’s face? Boy was she pissed!”
Reed: (Laughing) “Yea, I’ll bet she made him get a third job just to pay for it!”
Malloy: (Pointing out of the windshield) “We’ll find out soon enough, there they are!
Reed and Malloy exit their squad car and peer up at the top of the motorhome which is now sporting a brand-new Sunroof. All of the satellite domes, A/C units, and antennae which were once sprouting proudly from the roof, are now deposited in a jumbled mess behind the motorhome.
Well, that’s TV for you, always exaggerating the specifics to get ratings! I guess that could have been the scenario, but as Sergeant Joe Friday would say, “Just the facts Ma’am, only the facts”, here is the true story of the “Close-Encounter of the Underpass Kind”.
We were travelling on Route 77, just north of Corpus Christi, Texas. It was getting close to lunchtime and it was time to switch drivers, so we started looking for places to pull into. Paula was driving and I was Navigator. Looking at the map and my Google app, I could see this Labonte Park coming up soon. I suggested that we use that for our stop. It was located on the other side of the road, but typically, these parks are accessible to both sides, so we watched for the signs. Sure enough, we immediately spied the usual brown “Park” type signage coming up. Getting into the right lane, more signs, ok, here is the ramp, nice straight exit bringing us down a sloping grade and running parallel to the highway for some time. We could see that we were going to be directed left and under the roadway to the Park on the other side.
It was a good thing that the road had a right-angle turn to it which basically brings us to a stop before making the turn because there in front of us was the Underpass. Not just any underpass mind you, it was the sinister looking one with plenty of pre-existing damage to its concrete and steel.
Grind to a halt.
Signage reads 12’ 6”
We are about 12’ 3’’
Should be able to clear it, but….
Ok, get your Geometry books out now, the approach to said underpass was not level! There was a small ramp getting into and out of it. We are 40’ long with the wheelbase shorter than that but if one set of tires is down and on level ground while the other set is still on higher ground, that actually increases our effective height! And besides, who did, and where from, were these measurements taken? Remember, these are the same people who did not bother to put up any Low Clearance signs before exiting the highway, and guess what?
It’s a One-Way ramp going down to this turn!
Trapped!
I got out of the motorhome to survey the situation. In the meantime, an older couple who were fishing at the end of the road by the underpass, were frantically waving their arms at us in an effort to stop us before we came to disaster. I exited the motorhome and the gentleman said to me,
”Yo gonna hafta call the Poeleece ta getcha backed up da ramp!”
We agreed.
No sense in even trying to get under it. Even with one person outside to eyeball it and other driving, it just was not worth it. So, onto the phone we went. Three transfers later we finally got to the correct dispatcher who handles the “Motorhomes stuck at a one-way dead end because thereis low clearance underpass and can’t get through” situations.
They all were very nice and it wasn’t too long before the Officer from the Corpus Christi Police Department showed up.
Grinning from ear to ear, he immediately put us at ease and even jokingly asked if I could do one of those high-speed J-turns that whip you around basically in the same spot. When he learned that Paula was driving at the time, his kidding got even more intense. Paula was a good sport about it and threw me “under the bus” because it was my suggestion that we come down this way. The Officer lamented to us that the State (isn’t it always the State?) D.O.T. does not have adequate signage on the highway warning everyone of a possible height issue.
So, we got a Police Escort back up the one-way ramp. He then blocked traffic so that I could execute a many faceted K, J, L, (pick a letter) turn and get onto the ramp to the highway. Then drove over the grass to get behind us (still with lights a-flashing) to help us get up to speed without being rammed from behind.
This officer was so pleasant and witty that we did not mind our short delay on our northbound journey.
