Adventure 543: Ludlow, VT/Post Q

Our home for the week on Echo Lake, Ludlow, VT

Despite a few Murphy attacks (Nothing we can't handle), we've arrived in Vermont for our eighth (Ed's tenth) fall bicycle ride. We left Braintree around 8:45, arrived at Frank's house in Arlington at 9:00, and heard about our first "snafu", the first hitch in our giddy up, the first monkey in the wrench. It turns out, Frank's front left tire had a slow leak caused by a screw he'd picked up somewhere. We chose to put that in Frank and Johnny's able hands. Ed, Deb, Judy, and I off loaded a few bags, got into Johnny's car, and made our way to Putney to West Hill Bicycle shop to pick up our rented bikes. We agreed to meet Frank and Johnny there later. The second snafu, the second hitch in our giddy up, the second monkey in our wrench happened when I tried to put Judy's bike back together. We had it shipped to Vermont. In the process the rack holding the battery suffered a little damage. (By the end of our first ride, the battery would vibrate completely off the bike-no real damage done). Upon further examination, I've concluded that the design of the battery housing is weak. No worries. I can make it work for the week. We'll lodge a complaint when we get home. We had at least two hours before Frank and Johnny would arrive, so Ed, Deb, Judy and I went for a ten mile shake down ride. The weather was Vermont perfect. When we got back to West Hill, Frank and Johnny were waiting. We all proceeded to Ludlow to our rented house on Echo Lake. OMG! Let me repeat: OMG! This is the best house we've ever rented (Way to go Drouin's). On the way here, we were appraised of our third snafu, the third hitch in our giddy up, the third monkey in our wrench. On the drive from Putney to Ludlow, Johnny's car started making noises that sounded like the wailing of tortured wraiths. None of us have a clue about mechanics, so we've decided not to worry until Monday when we'll find a local mechanic. In the meantime, we've all had a little wine, a little rest, a little food, and the very good cheer of being back together. The weather for the week promises to be all that Vermont offers: some bright, some chilly, some brilliant, and some quite sufferable. Our bikes are in good order. We've put in enough stores for the week, and all of us have selected fine sleeping quarters. We've even availed ourselves of one of the modern electronic wonders of our world: Netflix. We're currently snuggled in front of a warm fire watching Anne with an E, which tugs at our heart strings. For balance, we'll follow that with an episode of Peaky Blinders, which will remind us (sadly, but irresistibly) of what seems to be prominent human values: greed, deception, betrayal, violence, expedience, graft,  revenge, and self preservation. Ain't life great, or at least good, especially today.

Packed to the gills, we took off from Johnny's early this morning. Traffic was smooth and light through Boston.

 Five full grown adults and their gear all mushed into a 1998 Honda.

 Judy's bike, ready for assembly after a cross country trip from Spokane.

It may be a record. We rode one tenth of a mile before we realized we hadn't eaten lunch. We ate a deli sandwich, a few chips, and bottles of water before heading out on a ten mile ride along Putney's quintessential River Road.

 The view of Echo Lake when I first walked into the house in Ludlow.

Four bedrooms, a pool table, a ping-pong table,  several kayaks, a canoe, a well equipped kitchen, a lakeside fire pit, wifi, comcast, Netflix, and more.

 One end of the main sitting room which looks out over the lake.

 The dock.

 Selfie of the day: Me on the dock, bourbon in hand.

 Our hosts must be alumni of Holy Cross just as Johnny is.

 Francois, holding court.

 Deb and Ed, our master planners, planning the next leg of their trip: Upstate New York. It's one adventure to the next for them.

 My Bunny, laying out the fixings for meatloaf sandwiches (Baked yesterday) for dinner.

The crew, stunned like roadkill,  sit mesmerized in front of one Netflix series after another. Actual bike riding will occur tomorrow.

Who says Boomer's are unacquainted with modern media.

Adventure 542: Boston Walk About/Post P

A North end landmark since 1926.

This counts as our eighth trip to Vermont in the fall. Tradition dictates a walk around Boston Commons, a stroll up on Beacon Hill, and pizza in the North end at Regina's. Enjoy. We sure did. In fact, this may be the best version of Regina's pizza we've ever eaten, which makes life quite good, especially today.

 John treated us to a train ride from Braintree to Boston and back.

 Ever the gracious host, here he is passing out train tickets.

Heady times back in the day at Regina's. The pizza parlor is plastered with photos; the table tops glow with a sheen of olive oil, and the place is always crowded. Our waitress today, Shannon, has been working at the place for fourteen years.

 Here, our "walk" leaders for the day, Ed and Deb, march us out of South Station.

Of course, I have the obligatory photo of the State House, the golden dome hand done by Paul Revere and his sons, shining like liberty in the afternoon sun.

And, yes, George Washington's statue holds a prominent place in the formal garden in Boston Common. 

 I didn't photograph it, nor did I buy anything there this time, but my favorite market in Boston is a place called DeLuca's, which is just across the street from this sign.

 The buddies standing in the alley just behind John Kerry's house on Beacon Hill.

 On our way to the North end, Judy couldn't resist adding some fresh berries to our Vermont provision.

The festival of St. Anthony, which has been held every year for the last hundred, made it easy for us to order the St. Anthony pizza: peppers, onions, Italian sausage covered in a white sauce. Quite nice.

The Eleanor, one of the ships celebrating the Boston Tea Party, sits in juxtaposition to the modern Boston skyline.

Adventure 541: Braintree, MA/Post O

We started the day at this fine spot.

Thankfully, traveling mercies were granted us as we traveled through the snarl of Boston traffic. The drive from Maine was smooth and uneventful. The day, cool and bright, gave us a preview of the fall colors we can expect next week. As we drew closer to Boston, the traffic picked up, and like in most big cities, drivers are both assertive and defensive. And as is our human condition, some are occupied by their personal concerns, distracted by their devices, or otherwise just preoccupied. And some are angry. We encountered very few of those drivers. Mostly, the drivers were safe and sane. A couple of "Massholes" weaved dangerously in and out, but luckily, I was able to steer clear of them. We invaded Johnny's home (Our Boston bachelor friend), returned the rental, did the shopping for Vermont, and Judy and Deb fixed a comforting dinner of roasted vegetables and meatloaf. After dinner, Johnny served us ice cream as dessert, which he bought just for us. Since it's a bachelor pad, the dining arrangements required Judy and Deb to eat in the living room. The "boys" ate at the kitchen table. After dinner, we had a brief political discussion. For the most part Johnny, Ed, and I agree that while we don't know who we'll be voting for, we do know we won't be voting for Trump. We did disagree a bit. I believe that even though impeachment is unlikely (See senate), the proceedings should proceed apace so that the voting records will be clear. From my memories as a young Catholic hooligan, I know from personal experience that I behaved much better when Sister Mary Michael looked over my shoulder. Johnny expressed a common political argument that must concern Democrats, the idea that they must use caution so as not to impair the 2020 election. If I were in charge of messaging I'd be pounding the idea that human decency should be the guiding star. I'd throw picture after picture of how people are treated on the border. I'd appeal to our "better angels". Instead of name calling, belittlement, frustration, and hair pulling, I'd remind the American people that we're a Nation of immigrants. That's when Johnny disagreed, sighting the electability playbook. He said, "The people in the heartland don't see the current immigrants as equals. White America is afraid of being taken over." That made me pause, because if that's true, we haven't rid ourselves of our less than noble history. Recently, an incident at the McCloud Plantation on James Island in Charleston, SC went viral. A white lady complained that she was incensed that her "vacation" was disrupted by an African American tour leader who she felt was lecturing her on slavery. She didn't want to hear it, that all that stuff was a long time ago, that she or none of her family had ever owned slaves, and from that point forward, she and her husband would remove plantation tours from their schedule. I think her attitude captures the crux of our national problem, and worse, ignores the threats born of "snakes, moats, and shooting people in the legs". I think it's high time we take a real look at ourselves, the preachings of Jesus, what equality means, and a real look at the words at the base of the Statue of Liberty. I've always believed that people are more alike than they are different, that compassion is better than cruelty, and that there's room for everyone. I really think things don't have to be so hard. If I were in charge, everyone would have the chance to succeed on their own merit and effort. The immigration process would simply be a facility with the American flag flying above it. Immigrants would stand in line. When they entered, they'd be given a tax number, a pamphlet explaining the path to citizenship, and a welcome. (As for those already here, a legitimate path to citizenship must be provided). That's as far as I'd go. Anyone choosing to remain undocumented after that, would have to rely on the kindness of others. Anyone breaking the law would have to be deported. No one would be above the law, and the law would be a level playing field. Other than that, the government would have no special responsibility over and above its normal services to its citizens. I think we should embrace the mosaic that is America. One benefit of travel is observing how lives are led. What I've seen (Not on the news) is people going about their business: kids to school, kids to activities, family life, working life, goals to succeed. Everyone should have the same chance I had. My grandfather came through Ellis Island as a sixteen year old. He had five dollars in his pocket, less than an eighth grade education, and a desire to better himself. He got the opportunity. The officials at Ellis Island recorded his name, gave him a number, a pamphlet, a welcome, and wished him well. For him, that made life good, especially that day. As a result, I, the son of an immigrant, now live what's known as the American Dream. Let's build our nation on acceptance. Let's be the beacon our Declaration of Independence claims. Let's choose our better angels. Sister is watching.

 As an accomplished foodie, I'm hard to please. This breakfast hash was top notch.

 As Judy and Deb wandered around the L.L. Bean mother store, I practiced the "form" here.

 We spent a good bit of time shopping for the next part of our adventure: Vermont.

 Here's my Bunny, solving the quandary of which basil to select.

Hearty meatloaf and roasted vegetables: what better fare for East coast supper?

Adventure 540: Brunswick, ME/Post N

Bowdoin College Chapel

The border guard said, "Passports please." "Any fire arms?" No. "Any fruit or vegetables?" No "Any raw animal meat or meat parts?" No. "More than $10, 000 in cash?" No. "Anything to declare." No. "Welcome home. Drive safely." Our border inquisition, mild as can be. lasted less than five minutes, which was nice, because it lessened our six plus hour travel time back to the States. Canada, in a word, was blissful. The Maritime Provinces provide a sense of genteel ease, warm hearts, and indomitable spirit. We stayed in five Air B&Bs. Each had something to offer. We rated the view, the beds, the kitchen, the pillows, the showers, the comfort, and the location. Our over all favorite was the cottage on the water across from Charlottetown. The whole two weeks spilled new experience over us like maple syrup on hot flap jacks. We decided to stop for the night in Brunswick, ME in order to ease our journey through the traffic snarl called Boston, MA tomorrow. We arrived in Brunswick early enough in the afternoon to wander this quaint city, which included a nice stroll through the campus of Bowdoin College. Bowdoin College was chartered in 1794 when Maine was still part of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. The college has a student body of around 1,800, has a tuition a little over $65,000, has an admission percentage of just under 15%, and a graduation rate of nearly 93%. Notable alumni include Henry Wordsworth Longfellow, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Franklin Pierce, George Mitchell, and William Cohen. We met a young lady on our walk who agreed to answer a couple of "personal" questions. I asked, Are you a student here? "Yes". Where are you from? "New York." What was your SAT score? "I didn't take the SAT, I took the ACT". What was your score? "34" What's the highest possible? "36". She was simply delightful. I was simply trying to verify the school's mission statement, which prides itself partly in its rigorous standards. After our walk, we chose a place for dinner called the Odd Duck, an upscale place which sources its food stuffs from local merchants and farmers. It also boasts the services of Elizabeth DiFranco, an acclaimed Maine chef who is in her mid-eighties. I snapped a picture of her preparing our dessert. While the picture doesn't do her justice, it does capture her intensity. I suppose any person still working in his/her mid-eighties must have a great deal of passion. For us, the beneficiaries, her intensity helped make our lives good, especially today.

First stop today was in Alma, NB for sticky buns. Kelly's Bake Shop makes 1,000 sticky buns each day. They fortified us for the long drive back to the U.S.

We spent quite some time today in Bowdoin College's Art Museum. These panels, which plastered an entire wall, provide food for thought.

Rejoice in these dire times.

Squeamish delay is the crime.

 Freedom is it!

 We enjoyed a fabulous meal at the Odd Duck.

 Deb and Ed enjoying a cocktail called the "One Way Street".

 Oh, my Gourd! (Curry, coconut milk, a bit of cardamon, and a blend of fall squash.

 It's yummy to be a Bunny.

 Elizabeth DiFranco, still quite vibrant in her mid-eighties. (She's in black)

 For dessert: Butterscotch Brûlée; Apple Galette.

Adventure 539: Bay of Fundy/Post M

The high water mark occurred October 4, 1869

We arrived at the Bay of Fundy this morning at low tide, early enough to walk the beach under the toadstool like rocks. According to the brochure, these rock formations, carved by the never ceasing tide change, are the most photographed geological structures in all of New Brunswick. We kept pace, clicking away in the morning light. They are indeed impressive, as is the tide flow rushing from the bay. The tide changes at least forty feet twice a day, every day. Afterwards, we returned to the Hopewell House   to enjoy Judy's famous French Toast,  a recipe made family famous by her father, Abe. We then drove the thirty-five kilometers back to Moncton in time to witness the tidal bore as it flushed the river. Today's bore was quite high, nearly 47 feet. Three intrepid suffers waited in the still chocolate river. The bore arrived  at 12:22, exactly as the tide table predicted. The surfers ably caught the rushing bore, which roars like a freight train due to its strength and volume. The power of the tide makes the river run backward. Afterward, all witnesses were as giddy as school girls at high tea in Avonlea. It truly made our last day in Canada memorable, and for sure and certain, life is good, especially today.

Side note: We spent the rest of the afternoon enjoying a lively game of dominoes, which I won, despite Mrs. Drouin winning five of the ten rounds. She claimed I committed some underhanded Trumpian maneuver, something like strong arming the New Brunswickians to change the numbers. I assured her I was most transparent in my accounting. Nonetheless, she was crying like a Democrat. All I could do was show her the map.

 The rocks at low tide look like toadstools. At high tide, only the tops are visible.

 Deb and Ed, the only life that can be found among the mud and rocks.

 Scads of park officials roam the beach aiding, informing, and protecting visitors.

 Water hoses are provided to wash the mud from shoes.

 The toadstools are five or six times the height of a normal Bunny.

 Nine German families sailed up this river in 1765 to settle in what's now Moncton. They formed a communal farm at first, sharing the work, the livestock, and the shelter. Eventually, each family was issued a land grant of around 2,000 acres. Descendants of the original settlers still reside in the community.

 The tide waters, ever churning either in or out, provide a powerful carving force.

 Notice the green around the bases, marking the minimum height of the high tide.

 The force of the water provides no purchase for marine life. Sea creatures must find other places to live.

 Did someone say, "Mushrooms"?

 Moncton, a bi-lingual town, welcomes both French and English.

 Surfers riding the tidal bore of the muddy Petitcodiac River, also known as the Chocolate River.

These two were absolutely giddy from their surf today.