Pictures from the Road

Shop

A beautiful day for a Sunday drive, as we decided to engage in one of our rare shopping days.  We are not travel shoppers, preferring to meander back roads where we can stop for picnics, picture-taking, funky local landmarks, or delicious food.

But one of our goals in coming to Vermont was to purchase some new light fixtures for our home.  A couple of years ago our son-in-law, a fine cabinetmaker, built a beautiful new kitchen for us, and these two years hence we've had wires hanging from the ceiling where fixtures should go...  

In this tough economy we're dedicated to supporting local producers of the things we need. After some research seeking made-in-USA fixtures, we decided the nicest selection was manufactured by Hubbardton Forge of Vermont.  They run the gamut of traditional wrought-iron Colonial styling to super-modern industrial stuff - just beautifully made. So our trek today began with a trip to Hand Made in Vermont, their local distributor in Wallingford.  We found just the right thing, kind of Zen-ish, quiet, clean designs.

The shop itself is in a beautiful old stone building that originally housed a forge whose sole purpose was producing pitchforks.  Can you imagine an era when forging pitchforks was a viable livelihood?!  How times have changed....

Afterwards, we zipped over to the Vermont Country Store in Weston. Anyone who's seen their catalogues knows they have an amazing array of items some of us "oldsters" remember from our childhoods, such as Lemon-Up Shampoo and pine tar soap, weather sticks, Lanz nighties, Teaberry Gum and old penny candy you can't find anywhere else anymore. We admit to being disappointed, however, by how many of the products there wear "Made in China" labels, and wonder why is this necessary? The store is packed to the gills with stuff - how much better if there was less on the walls and counters, and most, if not all of it, manufactured here in the States.  Calling this a country store feels a bit like calling a pot of artificial flowers a "plant." We picked up a few USA-made items: socks and edible goods, and moved on.  

The day's trek ended with a tour of sweet villages nestled into the lush, green hills as we made our way back to our campground. Vermont at its best, like everything else, is small and simple and sprung from something organically its own.  Zen-ish.

 

Freedom and Unity

 

How's that for a state motto?  

Vermont's founding fathers (and mothers) took to heart the early American goal of independence, while recognizing that no one can stand alone.  As it required a coalition of ragtag continental militias to wrest freedom from the British Motherland, the forging of a new country - the United States of America - would necessitate the commitment and cooperation of its young states.  

Vermont still maintains that spirit of independent goodwill - think of curmudgeonly Robert Frost ("good fences make good neighbors"), the radical homesteaders the Nearings, who drove off anyone wishing to see them before noon, their "writing time," but then graciously opened their doors for afternoon chats, and then there's our contemporary Independent Congressman Bernie Sanders, irascible on the floor of the Senate as he argues for protections for the poor and disenfranchised.  

We've come to Vermont many times - Jacquie went to graduate school here, and our daughter studied in Burlington.  There's seldom been a visit when we haven't exclaimed, "If we had to live anywhere other than Maine...."  

We love these Green Mountains, and feel at home here.  Curmudgeonly, radically, lovingly at home.

 

Where There's a Will, There's...

 

Poor Will!  He is not so welcome on this trek, but we are finding "a way" to have a nice holiday just the same...

We started our very chilly and gray Thursday with a slow, delish breakfast in the Buglet. Dave steamed asparagus, laid it over a thin bed of proscuitto, then perched a sweet little poached egg atop it all, served with toasted sourdough bread on the side, good coffee. HEAVEN! Our trips are truly mostly about food, glorious food! That which we seek out in areas we visit, and the goodies we make with all delight and seriousness here in the Bug. WE LIVE TO EAT.  

Will licks the plates.

After more morning dawdling and little Buglet chores such as dishwashing, etc., we headed out to Margate City to meet Lucy. That would be Lucy the Elephant Building. She is cool!  She is a National Historic Landmark! And we absolutely loved climbing up her left leg into her rear quarters, and then having a nice little tour of her innards...   viewing the ocean through her big porthole eyes. She is six stories high, and began her life in the 1800's, built by a real estate speculator who was trying to sell property in the area (looking to create another Atlantic City). A big hotel was built beside her, and thousands and thousands of people walked through her up until the 1960's, when she'd fallen into serious disrepair. A "Save Lucy!" group cropped up and had her moved a few   blocks to her present site (she used to overlook the Atlantic ocean), where she has been spiffed and re-opened for visits. Alas, a recent storm hurt her tail, and would you believe it will cost FORTY THOUSAND dollars to repair? For one tail!

Poor Willie was of course not allowed to tour Lucy with us, so we opened all the car windows and the sun roof to give him lots of fresh ocean air (it was only 57 degrees) along with a doggie treat. Still, his outraged roo-roos! followed us everywhere we went, even as we perched upon Lucy's howdah (the basket on her back) checking out the 360 view. When the tour ended, this "nice" guy I'd been chatting with suddenly got very indignant: "You know, if you leave your dog in the car for even 3 minutes, even if you just run into a grocery store, the state of New Jersey will fine you hundreds of dollars!"  Sigh...

We decided, with the cool weather, to take a couple of hours to drive up to Lakewood, where we visited Colonial Airstream, the place where we bought Buglet in 2006. We told ourselves it was to get a few pieces we need (new stove knob, etc.,) but of course the aim was to walk through the new models. And they are cool, Lord, they are cool. One could live full-time in an Airstream, easily, so long as one is willing to keep it to, say, four pairs of shoes total. (Hear that, Dave? Four. No more than four.)

After oohing ahhing and a long stretch of general drools, we decided to end the day, as we were in the area, with a trip to Island Beach State Park. The park is essentially   an 8-mile stretch of road, absolutely straight, that features beach paralleling along the entire way. There are about 30 turn-offs, where people can park and hike onto the sand for a day of swimming, etc. It was sooooo cold  there! But so beautiful. 

And wow, when we entered the gate,   we were told Willie COULD come with us,and the park person gave him a dog biscuit! Yah, Island Beach SP! We enjoyed the beach itself for only a short while - it was freezing! - but were able to have a hike through a thicket area around  the dunes. The crook-y trees there (forgot the name of them) were so pretty, and made the area look to be inhabited by fairies.

In the evening, it was too cold even for campfire sitting, so we huddled in the Bug and watched Survivor. Yes, we did.

 That's what we love about our rig: we can be as "plugged in," or "unplugged" as we like. And of course, Will is always, always welcome.

Unexpected

It's impossible to plan a trip without dreaming... envisioning what one will encounter in a place one has never visited.  It's the impetus for carving away at busy schedules, and well, all that schlepping of suitcases.  One of the pleasantest aspects of travel (or the most frustrating) can be the ways in which those dreams are challenged by the reality of a place.

We expected that by traveling south in springtime, we'd encounter warmer weather, but the temps are about the same here in southern New Jersey as they've been in Maine for the past few weeks. Glad we brought wool socks and fleece jackets, and that the Buglet has a heater!

We expected   to sit around campfires in lovely state parks with our doggie beside us begging for bites of roasted marshmallows, only to learn that most state parks in New Jersey don't allow dogs. No dogs!  So after only one night, we had to abandon the idea of relaxing in those pretty unspoiled arenas, and had to make our way to, sigh... a private campground. This one isn't terrible. But it isn't wonderful. It isn't a state park.

Tuesday, our first full day here, was grayish and cold, and we spent it lounging about in the Airstream, reading, resting, and mostly eating. Everything tastes extraordinary on vacation, even plain things like bread and butter. Even string beans. Our small container of Ben and Jerry's vanilla heath-bar crunch was downright orgasmic.

We awoke Wednesday morning to rain pinging the aluminum over our heads, and with weather reports speaking of all-day showers, we envisioned another day of quiet inside events.  But feeling a bit antsy to - well, begin our vacation, we decided to go out to breakfast, and then drive around a bit. We found a great eating place (Mad Batter Cafe), and while stuffing ourselves with Benedict (me) and a lobster/crab frittata (D.), were delighted to realize that the sun was making a completely unexpected appearance through the restaurant windows!

 This pretty town of Cape May, with its sweet Victorian homes, is very walkable, and with stuffed tummies and sunshine warming the tops of our heads, we made our way to the long, long promenade running parallel to the Jersey shore. The day became beautiful, and we discarded ideas of indoor activities right along with our sweaters.  We walked for a couple of hours, savoring the sound of hard tides and sea birds, the salty smell in the air, our Willie keeping right up despite his short doxie legs. It wasn't until we left that we saw the sign saying "No dogs allowed on the promenade."

We then drove to Cape May Point State Park, where of course, dogs were also not allowed. Our boy does not do well being separated from his beloved Alpha and Beta litter mates (us), so after rolling down the windows to assure him some cool ocean breezes, we walked the beach, and later climbed all 199 steps to the tippytop of Cape May's Lighthouse, all the while being serenaded by Willie's embarrassingly loud, affronted "Roo! Roo! Roo!"

 From there, a short drive took us to Sunset Beach, famous for crab cakes at the Sunset Grill, and for Cape May diamonds, very clear quartz crystals that wash up on the beach in abundance. They polish up really nicely, making wonderful jewelry. It was also one of the few places we found that welcomed dogs. Even the Sunset Grill had a sign saying there was a place for four-footed patrons on the lower deck. Unfortunately, the grill was... closed. (sigh)

The realization that we were becoming tired coincided with the disappearance of the sun and the reappearance of the cool, so we made our way back to the campsite, where we roasted sausages on the fire, and gave Will just the teensiest bite of marshmallow to make up for the fact that New Jersey doesn't seem to like dogs.  

We realize that the remainder of our week here will be shaped largely by where Willie can and can't go. But that's okay. He's our sweet little Gamma-Boy.

  

At the end, there was a campfire!

This trip is really a getaway. It's been a long winter for us, and the Airstream has been calling. 

Having packed on Sunday (after the Mothers' Day celebrations), we headed out early Monday morning for Cape May, NJ. We chose it because it was south, so it was likely to be warmer. And we could get there in a single day's drive. So... here's the drive. You'll see that the weather gets better as we drive south, and at the end, there's a campfire. Enjoy! (Give it a minute after you press 'Play" for it to start loading.)

At the end, there's a campfire in New Jersey. from David Fuller on Vimeo.

Clinch

We spent a chilly overnight, and a chilly day, at our first Florida stop - Fort Clinch State Park, in Fernandino Beach, at the northeastern-most tip of the state.  The temperatures only reached 50 - much better than the 25 folks are feeling back home!  But our shorts and flip-flops remain neatly packed in the Buglet's little cupboards, while we march on in fleece and wool socks.  We've been promised temps in the 70's within the next couple of days, and are sooo ready to get into lighter clothes!

**Note: if you click into the smaller pictures, it opens a new window with a larger copy.**

This is a lovely campground, with semi-secluded camp spaces by the side of an estuary.  We walked the river beach this morning, enjoying the odd pink shells and glimpses of the goofy pelicans, much bigger than I realized, as they hovered over the water scanning for fishes.  

We later crossed the park to explore the Atlantic-ocean-side, where the wind blew so cold, it watered our eyes.  Not a soul there beside the two of us, and we hurried our visit, anxious to get back into our warm car.

There is of course a fort at Fort Clinch, one of many commissioned by George Washington to protect the shores of what was then our new nation from the threat of European aggression.  The fort was begun, but never completed, even though it was manned at various times in our history throughout World War II. It never saw action.

The highlight of our day was encountering our very first armadillo, in the Fort's parking lot. What a cute little guy (or gal?), with a bushy beard and long mole-nose, which it snortled into the ground, seeking grubs, I suppose. Its search for food was so intent, it allowed David to get within 3-4 feet, only looking up lazily, nose still snortling, to have its picture shot.

A kindred spirit for sure, as we, too, let very little interfere with our eating experiences.

We'll Take It.

We've driven 871 miles. Long, long expanses of Route 95, but we're midway to our destination!  Our first stay-over in southern New Jersey put us at the forefront of the storm about to hit the Northeast - our other Home Sweet Home.  We awoke to icicles on the Bambi, and drove all day  today through the storm's heavy snow in Maryland, which shifted to rain in Virginia.  It's quiet now, but the RV park agent told us there's a "winter watch" here - so not sure if we'll wake to more snow tomorrow.  If we can continue comfortably with our trek, we'll be in Florida tomorrow night!  It doesn't EVER snow in Florida, DOES IT?

About mid-day, we received the first photos of our new (born yesterday) grand-nephew, Liam Michael. Congratulations to parents Torrey & Janine, David's brother Don and all their families.

We've been stopping to eat along the way, fatty diner-type foods we're not accustomed to, but have to admit... we love. And served by waitresses with the most soothing, soft southern lilt in their voices.  Had some chicken Q' tonight, and have settled comfortably into the rig to digest and watch the old film Stella Dallas on our little TV.

Toward the end of the afternoon today, bits of light (not quite sun, but we swear there was a patch of blue sky up there) filtered through the dense cloud cover, and the rain began to let up. It's not the famous southern sunshine yet, but my brother called to tell me that Maine is bracing for a potential 14" of snow.  

We are very, very happy not to be in Maine for that.  We'll take this, thank you.

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. 

Surge

Note: Click on any of the pictures in this blog to display the image at full size. 

Today we crossed the border into Canada to see the other side of the glorious Falls, admittedly the better view, as everyone will tell you... 

Words cannot do justice to the experience of being in the presence of such massive power and beauty and surge, and so we leave you with our pixelated visuals, which come just the eensiest bit closer.

And well, the other Surge...  The one that when far away from these gorgeous Falls, when sitting at home in my pj's with a heart that's happy or sad or panicked or frantic about something or other.  This source of beauty and comfort was designed by Alice Stamm, a wizard of computer technology even when it was in its infancy.  Alice began the site that has been a lifeline to women around the world - a place of beauty and sustenance that has seen women arrive like weary soldiers returning from battle.  Shell-shocked, frightened, lonely, and very far from home...

You think I'm exaggerating?  I am NOT.  Although in modern media for women it remains a Big Hush-Hush, as though we must still be living in Victorian times, the truth is that for thousands of women, menopause is profoundly unsettling.  My own was hell.  HELL.  And so one day five years ago, I weepily typed a list of frightening symptoms into google, and well, it brought me home.

Home is Power-surge.com.  Begun by Alice in the 1990's, it's gone through (and continues to go through) numerous configurations determined by current computer technology, but the heart of this home does not change.  It is a place of welcome, and one is met at the door by Alice's big wide-open arms, and yes, we fall into them.   Alice's site represents hours of research she gathered and organized into categories user-friendly to women who aren't particularly computer-savvy.  One can look up "internal shaking," or "numbness," for example, and I'm betting you had no idea these are not uncommon symptoms of menopause...

For years Alice conducted Guest Chats with some of the most prominent doctors, researchers, nutritionists, etc., in the field of women's health.  These are still archived, and although Alice for personal reasons has not been able to offer the chats for awhile, their information remains current and relevant.

And then, there are the Message Boards.  And here, I wish typepad offered smiley-face icons, or hearts, or some other way I could convey the smile that is present on my face.  I have met amazing women on these boards, women from cities and hamlets and European countries and Australia, for heavens sake.  I have laughed and cried and wept and raged with them, and far from inhabiting a virtual world, they are Friends.  We share news of grandchildren, our cats, the breakdown of our cars, or of our hearts.  

One of the joys of traveling (and yes, this is a travel blog!) is meeting some of these Sisters, the "Sisters of Da Surge," as one of the girls puts it, in person.  Our trek to Texas last year brought me to a dinner table with Boyzmom; I've met Chriscarol in Connecticut, and Joline and 1Shopper, right in Maine.

Last night I met Arla, up here in Niagara-on-the-Lake.  Arla and I have been exchanging news and support in a particular Power-Surge thread (along with lots of other threads, and amidst lots of other beautiful Sisters) for a few years now, and it was a THRILL to meet her!  We had a beautiful dinner, and barely stopped talking long enough to actually get the food into our mouths.  In fact, it was easy to ignore my dessert (white chocolate and lemon cake even!) while looking at the pics of her adorable little grandbabies.  We had a beautiful midnight walk in this lovely village, and I savored every moment of it.

Our husbands, who've now been given the moniker of "Surge Brothers," also had lots to chat about, leaving Arla and me to share so many of our feelings about Power-Surge, the ultimate one being that it has brought us hope at the lowest point of our lives.

Tomorrow, David and I drive to Toronto, where we will meet yet another Power-surge Sister, Dotcalm, and I'm beside myself, truly.  Arla and her husband will join us, and it will be a Surge Session to beat all!  

And I end with a dedication to Alice Stamm, a most extraordinary woman.  Alice, I don't think you truly know what you have done.  Women come to your site and express that you've saved their lives.  You saved mine.  I thank you, Dearest, with all of my heart.  The voyage that brought me Home to Power-surge was the most important one I've ever taken. 

Thank you.