Pictures from the Road

Shhhhh.

This Saturday has been the quietest day we have ever spent in the Airstream.  We awoke to dark skies and the start of gentle rain, and given that tomorrow we return to the busy everyday of our lives, we were pleased to consider a day of nothing but reading, watching movies (thanks to our quiet generator), and occasional walks by the river rolling just behind us. 

The rain didn't seem to bother a small band of fly fishermen and women who seemed to be enjoying the last few days of the season. And it didn't keep the herons from fishing the riverbanks either.

But for us, it was a different kind of relaxation, being in an aluminum capsule, rain pinging the roof, the river rushing loudly enough for a steady sound of whoosh in one's ears....  Time to tackle the huge stack of magazines I'd brought (I bring magazines on trips in the way David brings shoes), and nothing but coziness, a little stove for cooking, cushy blankets to wrap around one's shoulders. We could watch the fly fishermen and women sometimes moving into "our section" of the Housatonic, and enjoy their graceful casting and retrieving from the Zeppelin's little rear-window.

A mid-day viewing of the old 1936 movie San Francisco, starring a young Clark Gable and warble-throated Jeannette McDonald, was fun, if a little... well let's just say that we were treated to more than enough of Jeannette McDonald's "warble-throating." But the scenes portraying San Francisco's earthquake at the turn of the century were so impressive, especially given the challenges of early movie-making (one learns these things when married to a filmmaker). 

Tomorrow morning we return to Maine and the emptying of the Airstream for its cold-weather rest.  It must be winterized and safely put to sleep.  So today, our last full day of camping in 2008, we are making the most of its den-like comforts.  The rainy weather is perfect.  We are introspective types, we two Lazy Librans, so we are in, well, heaven.

On the Road Again

A much happier day, as we re-battened the Zeppelin for the move to our next campsite in northwestern Connecticut, the “Litchfield Hills” area.

On our way, we stopped in the town of Wilton to visit Connecticut’s only “National Park,” Weir Farm National Historic Site. It’s the old homestead of American Impressionist J. Alden Weir, considered one of the first (if not THE first) Impressionist painters in this country. Weir’s home, studio, and farmland are beautiful, and as Weir himself was a colorful and interesting character, the tour given to us by one of the Park’s Rangers was informative and fun. We didn’t know anything about this painter, but loved the examples of his work, which hang in the major museums of the U.S.

One of Weir’s daughters married the sculptor Mahonri Young (grandson of Utah’s Brigham Young), and he too built a studio on the Weir homestead. After his death, the property passed to a young artist couple who were living in the area, and thankfully they preserved everything in his and Weir’s adjoining homes and studios.

This visit was much to our liking – educational, and the landscape was just gorgeous. It didn’t hurt that the weather was lovely, too, and so David and I picnicked beside Weir’s pond, the quiet pierced only by the children on the other side of the pond practicing their Tarzan yells. Which surprised and delighted us – kids still do Tarza yells!

From here, we rode the narrow, curvy roads of Connecticut’s northwestern hills, to our next campsite at Housatonic Meadows State Park.

We found a site only about fifteen yards from the Housatonic River, and as the night was warm enough for sitting before a campfire, we roasted hot dogs and sang every silly old cowboy song we could think of: Old Dan Tucker, Red River Valley, and oh, is Shoo Fly, Don’t Bother Me a cowboy song?

We fell asleep to the sound of the rushing river, grateful for a truly good and restorative day.

A Not-Perfect Day If You're Us

We had a decision to make as Thursday dawned… to have another gentle day of exploring western Connecticut, or to take a trek into New York City, about two hours from our campground.

The draws were: a small Museum of Contemporary Art in the town of Ridgefield, CT, which, given how much we’d enjoyed the smaller museums at Yale, might be well worth seeing; or big old fascinating MOMA, New York’s Museum of Modern Art, which we’ve visited before, and love. David has sometimes called it his cathedral.

Determining that it’s not often that we find ourselves in such proximity to the Big Apple, we opted for the bigger trek, which was, alas, the wrong choice. The drive in was mad, despite the hour being beyond what could be considered morning rush-hour. A lot of the kind of stopping and starting that leaves one feeling agitated and sick to one’s stomach. Amazingly, we found a parking place directly in front of the museum. Lucky us, to have a commercial license plate that allowed us to use that space! (And we saved a small fortune in parking fees!)

MOMA was full of people, which struck us as odd for a “non-holiday Thursday” – hundreds and hundreds and hundreds, making it difficult to get personal with most of the artwork. We’ve never encountered such crowds in past visits, and found the noise, lines, jostling, and general cacophony very hard to take.

Admitting to being overwhelmed by a NY City crowd may make us come off as a couple of Maine hicks, but we have always loved busy New York streets, restaurants, and sites of all kinds – this was more a smothering nearness, the kind one feels when others stand too close to one’s face.

Of course, the art, when we could see it, was magnificent. MOMA is currently holding a special exhibit on the worksof Van Gogh, (no photos permitted there) and it was a treat to be in rooms filled with his paintings!
His canvases sparkle and pop in a thoroughly contemporary way, despite having been painted a century ago. We’re very glad to have seen this exhibition, and we also took the time over the course of the day to elbow our way to some old favorites: Leger, Paul Klee, Marc Chagall, and many more.

Toward mid-afternoon, we decided we really could not take the crowds for a moment longer, and furthermore, chose not to seek out a NY dining spot (our initial plan). Just crossing the street back to our car was daunting enough! So we headed out of the city into another frantic round of highway starts, stops, near-misses, muttered prayers, and held breaths suddenly released in huge YIKES!

Back in Connecticut, we stopped to re-gather ourselves and sate our grumbly bellies at the restaurant in Norwalk where we’d recently feasted on the delicious homemade mozzarella and duck salad. Yet, this, too, was disappointing – unsatisfactory wait-staff, food not as good. So as we ended our day driving back to the Airstream in the dark, we pondered a bit wearily just what we might have missed at that little Museum of Contemporary Art in western Connecticut?

Fishes & Cows

David made us a good hearty breakfast this Wednesday morning, and after a slow getting-ready, we headed to the western Connecticut shore, to the town of South Norwalk. There we visited the Maritime Aquarium, and had the uncomplicated fun of looking at fishes.

It IS fun being introduced to the wonders of the watery parts of the world one just doesn't get to otherwise see. We touched stingrays (with stingers removed of course) - slimy in the yuckiest sense of the word. We saw hundred of little Nemo characters, one of whom seemed to take to us and followed us around his tubular tank while his fellow fishes did their usual manic circling. Sharks were impressive in their creepy way. The highlight of the visit was watching the seals during their feeding time, with their clever kissing of the trainer and waving goodbye to the crowd. I suppose these are meaningless gestures to them, meant only to bring on the herrings, but it's way fun to watch.

We sat in on the IMAX show, a dandy one about the Colorado River as it snakes through the Grand Canyon, and of course it offered its sad message of how global weather changes are affecting the river. I was happily anticipating the usual stomach-clenching helicopter dash inches over the water, and found myself brought down by the ecological "lesson."

It's important that these kinds of messages get out there, but it is a bit disappointing to have that be the focus of the thing, when one ultimately wants to be enjoying vicarious kayak spills on the Colorado rapids.

Lunch in South Norwalk was a great surprise. On one of the town's pretty main streets, we found a restaurant that served elegant and delicious food, beginning with a dish of their homemade (yes!) mozzarella in a light balsamic sauce, and followed by a huge shared salad of duck leg and red and yellow beets. Sooo good! 

From there we drove around a bit, trying to determine if there was time to visit a contemporary art museum in a nearby town, and deciding there really wouldn't be an opportunity to do it justice. So on a whim we decided to visit Stew Leonard's, which calls itself "The World's Largest Dairy Store." 

It's a funny place! Really, it began in the 1800's as a dairy farm and store, but is now a big grocery-store-tourist-spot featuring wild animated displays of mooing cows, dancing farmers, and barnyard characters playing jigs, etc. The kind of place little kids love, but for an older head, soon becomes an overwhelming wing-ding of noise and lights. We had a few chuckles, picked up a few good-looking cheeses, and got the hell out of there.

Onward to home - the Airstream's far-off silverness cheering us as we turned onto the tarmac road leading to the campsite. Our place of respite, home-away-from-home, welcoming us in from the sublime and ridiculous alike.

A Perfect Day - If You're Us

We awoke this Tuesday morning to one of those sunrises seemingly orchestrated by a Deity wishing to show off. A hurried few steps to find the camera, and voila!

It's warmer than it's been, and we found ourselves comfortably moving around the campsite in light sweaters. Showers soon taken, and a good breakfast downed, we headed out for our second New Haven Museum and Cheeseburger Day.

We began at the Yale Museum of Art - a venerable old building that competes architecturally with the works of art within. The main part of the museum now is a wonderful new addition, designed by architect Louis I. Kahn, that had us looking up at its ceiling half the time.

At one particularly nice grotto-type-spot, a guard approached and said: "Sorry, you can't go into that area," and we replied, "oh that's okay, we just want to stand right here and admire the brickwork." There's much to see here from every genre and era of Art History, and we took our time to enjoy it all.

For lunch, we walked a couple of blocks to world-famous (according to the Food Channel) Louis' Lunch for yup - more cheeseburgers. Louis' is said to be the place where the very first hamburger was ever made. The story is that a long-time customer of the place came in one day asking for his usual ground beef dinner, but was in a hurry and wanted to be able to eat it en route to someplace else. Louis slapped the meat onto a roll, and there you go, a wee seedlet of an action with repercussions right down to McDonald's worldwide billions and billions sold.

Okay, these cheeseburgers were honestly some of the very best we've ever eaten - done just right (medium-rare), juicy but not greasy (they cook the meat on its side in special slotted ovens, so a lot of the fat runs off), tender, and full of flavor. Lip-smackingly delicious! Louis' is a tiny place, full of character, and the owners maintain the old manner of serving them without mustard or ketchup - a sign on the wall proclaims "This Is Not Burger-King - You Don't Get It Your Way." A Louis' burger consists of meat, cheese, and (they'll concede this much, if you like) onions, which lets the flavor of the meat come through so well, one is perfectly content to have one's burger their way.

We went on from there to Yale's Center for British Art, another very cool building whose architecture vies with the art within. Here we saw classic manor-style paintings of the usual beloved horses and dogs, "the hunt," great old portraits of dour English patriarchs. Turners and Constables! David made the observation that even the British contemporary art seemed subdued and a bit restrained. There's elegance, even in abstraction.

Weary feet began demanding a break from shuffling us through gallery after gallery, so we regretfully capitulated and returned to the quiet of the Airstream just before dinner time.

To settle our art-addled heads, we took a walk on the beach as high tide, and an approaching storm, brought a display of powerful waves, and wind that took our breaths away.

It's pleasurable to be well-dressed against impressive weather, layered in fleece and with scarves wrapped around our heads - so we joined happily in nature's wild dance, for what art competes with that of Deities? 

Back at the Airstream, we had an autumnal meal of bangers (sausage), roasted parsnips, and a pear-pecan-and lettuce salad, the table with its napkins askew looking a bit like a British still life.

Yale

The Airstream's heater kicks on and off all night long, and we are grateful for this little silver cocoon, and for each other, a long-married couple in practical flannel pajamas, comfortably tucked together in our close little bed.

This Monday morning commences with a walk on "our beach." Gulls circle overhead, carrying shells in their mouths, and then releasing them, watching them crash and crack open on the tarmac leading to the shore, and then they dive down to poke at the morsel-y flesh within. We return to our own lazy breakfast, grateful for refrigerators and gas stoves that come on at the flick of the switch, and then leave for our first full day of exploring Yale University's museums. Oh, and to eat good New Haven food, as everyone who knows us understands we do with as much fervor as when we view the world's Great Masterpieces of Art. Faced with the recent discovery (thanks to the Food Channel) that Connecticut is known as "the birthplace of the hamburger," how could we not be filled with anticipation at the thought of seeking out some of these long-long-time burger establishments and wolfing down a few of their meat-ly masterpieces?

Although of course, we've learned that Connecticut is also known for its pizza, and so, to show good and fair credit to both, upon arriving in New Haven, we began at Frank Pepe's Pizza, and took our place among the Californians and Floridians also there to experience a Pepe's fresh tomato pie. And it's good! Thin crust, and very, very fresh diced tomatoes, which make all the difference in the world.

From there, we went on to our first museum stop, and were dismayed to find a plaque proclaiming in bold letters that "the Beinecke Rare Book Library is closed for construction." What?! No possibility of viewing their Gutenberg Bible!!! No chance to lovingly peruse their antique books and manuscripts! SORELY disappointing indeed for an ex-English Major, but what can one do...

And so we walked a bit through the city to give time for the disappointment to settle, and found ourselves recompensed by the beauty of New Haven. It's a classic university town in an "old-Cambridge" kind of way, beautiful architecture dotted with busts of famous Elis, pretty, well-cared for green spaces. We love the brownstone lodgings, neat little rows and rows of them.

We went on to the Peabody Museum of Natural History. Not as impressive as the natural-history museum we visited in Oklahoma, but still worthwhile, with very good and educational exhibits. Massive dinosaur bones, no matter how often one sees them, always elicit a sense of wonder in the soul. Who can look at them, and not turn to thoughts of how frighteningly difficult it would be to try to run from such a thing?

Dinner, which was to consist of our first Cheeseburger Tasting, brought us 20 miles north of New Haven to Ted's Restaurant, said to be the "home of the steamed hamburger." The meat for each burger is placed into a little metal container resembling a mini-bread pan, and then a glom of a combination of cheese is placed in another. They won't tell what cheese is used, but I'm guessing based on the taste and consistency that it's a blend of American and mozzerella. The pans are then placed into the steamer, and then when ready, burger and cheese are slapped onto a bun - very good! We think they'd be even better if the buns were toasted (they were cold), but still a tasty product.

Back to the Zep for another early night, and dreams of another day to come touring New Haven's museums, and taste-testing its burgers.

Chill

I woke up today and found... frost perched on the ground.

So begins the old Joni Mitchell tune Urge for Goin', and so begins an autumn trek slightly south in our rehabilitated (sigh) Airstream. This Sunday morning our ready feet tromped wardrobe and foodstuff the few frosty yards from house to Buglet and back, and of course we gave quiet thanks for "having the wheels to go."

The year thus far has asked a lot of us. And so, careful to leave in place what needs to be in place, we hit the highway hours later than planned. We made our way through the golds and reds and yellows of Northeastern trees, slowly to Hammonassett State Park on the southern Connecticut shore. It is frosty here, too!

We expect to see deciduous trees less advanced than our own, yet it looks here about as it looks back home. But we have escaped, and feel it in the growing ease and slowing down of our speech, a settling deeper into ourselves. We begin with a quick oceanside walk in the very brisk air, and then dine in the Airstream, and turn in early, appreciating the sound of nothing in our ears.

We so need to chill.