Picnic Above the High Water Mark - Surry State Park

June 20, 2012

My friend, Jeri, told me about Surry State Park. It was out of the way, small , scenic and, if I waited until the end of the school year when field trips were done, quiet. I waited. On the next available gorgeous day we headed to Surry State Park (near Keene) for a day of picnicing, reading, kayaking and fishing. Anne often says that I don't check things out enough; so when we entered the park and drove across the dam and still could not find how to get to the beach, I was a bit worried. I stopped at a ranger station for more information.

I was sure that when I broke the news to Anne, she would understand and she would not need to remind me about the checking out thing again. It seems the heavy rains that we had read about the week before were actually floods ... just like the ones we had in Vermont. And the floods destroyed the road into the park and the water supply for it. Oops! This would require some quick thinking.






What we needed was  ... water ... sand ... and close proximity.  I headed the car for Walpole on Rt 12.  I would set up our picnic on the shoreline of the Connecticut River behind the dam at Bellows Falls on the New Hampshire side. I had been there before to collect driftwood. What it lacked in ambiance, it made up for with uniqueness. We arrived and the look on Anne's face was not a reflection of my inner confidence.

Sometimes signage is misleading ...

 and, to some extent, non-reassurring.

Nevertheless, if you didn't get too close, the water looked clean. Since the current was too fast to kayak, there was really no need to get that close. We found a sandy spot just off the dirt road and a good distance from any of the trash piles. Maybe after lunch we could combine a short hike along the river with picking up enough beer cans to pay for the extra gas needed to drive this far.  If you didn't look too closely, you might think you were on a beach in the Caribbean.






We ate our subs quickly in order not to attract the green flies from the dead fish carcasses along the shoreline.












After lunch, I explored upriver to the dam. I found ancient aboriginal writings on the stones. I believe this to be the word for "milk".












I also discovered a state-of-the-art playground. But we were both tired form all the excitement.



















It had been a great day despite the misdirection on the start. I had a nagging feeling that something was missing. I couldn't let go of that thought and spent quite a while thinking about it.








And then it came to me ... ice cream ... we found the ice cream truck in a park in Keene.

Kayaking the Connecticut River - Putney to Brattleboro

June 14, 2012

From the time that I came to Vermont, one of my favorite things to do was to head out in my canoe to paddle or fish. From my base in Swanton, I combined numerous outings to to canoe  the Missisquoi river from Canada to Lake Champlain, the Lamoille River from Elmore to Morrisville,  and sections of the Rock, Trout, Winooski, and Battenkill Rivera, as well as Lake Champlain and other lakes. After I moved to Brattleboro, I paddled some on the West and Connecticut. 

I was not until I got my kayak that I decided to do a longer outing. I decided to do a solo adventure for a change and to paddle the Connecticut River from the landing in Putney to the Exit 3 bridge in Brattleboro. The paddle would be about 10-12 miles and should take from 3 to 4 hours including stops to explore. We set up a car shuttle and Anne dropped me off at the starting point, the landing in Putney.

The day was warm and clear and as I pulled away from the landing I quickly settled in to a rhythm of gentle, steady paddling and eased down the river with the current.  Behind me, a solitary rower from the local rowing club, returning from his morning practice, silently guided his shell alongside the landing. Ahead of me loomed a huge tree leaning over the water. I spotted plank steps nailed to its side.High among the branches, a rope had been tied and tangled seductively above the river current. Despite the sirens call, my days of rope swings is long past. But that didn't suppress the visions of kids and young adults swinging out high over the water, laughing hysterically, releasing and plunging into the waiting waters. 

I knew what a wonderful trip this would be. Rivers have history and stories to tell and I had already tasted a few. Minutes later, I saw a huge bird (eagle or osprey) carrying a fish flying upriver about 10 feet above the water. In its talons, it clutched a large fish. I only wish that I had seen the actual catch. He had positioned the fish parallel to the direction of flight with the head to the front.  I read somewhere that they do this for efficiency of flight. Further down the river, another large bird flew right by my kayak. This time, I could clearly see  ... it was a bald eagle. 

Continuing downstream, alternating paddling and casting for bass,  I leisurely drifted along allowing the  river to set the pace and take me where it would. I rounded a bend and ahead of me was a small cove and a large, stone-covered sand bar.  The river spoke to me and I listened. It said to me, "sandbar ... large flat stones ... driftwood and debris".  The river was so demanding ... I had no choice, but to do a stacking. When I was done, I thought about another paddler ... rounding the bend ... seeing my sculpture ... and waiting patiently for the story that the river would tell!

Not every story is pleasant. There is a spot near the Exit 3 bridge that puzzles me. It appears to be discharge from an industry near the river. I had seen it before on kayak trip. The water bubbles up from below and is tainted blue-gray for the next 100 yards before it dissipates.  This time there was a distinctive offensive odor.  Maybe the discharge is permitted or non-toxic. I am not usually a crusader, but this time I emailed the town manager to express my concern and to show her a picture. I never got a reply. Politics!

I tried to put my concerns aside and continued my journey. When I think back on this day, I want to remember the joy and comfort the river provided. The river did not disappoint. I drifted further downstream, passing a merganser and ducklings, kingfisher, goose and goslings.   Nearby, I eased up on a beaver lodge to take a look, about 20 feet away, a fox stepped out of the weeds and stopped to stare at me. Only got a pix of his tracks.

I ended the day in the best of ways with the beauty of the river. The reflections of the Exit 3 bridge and an awesome sky.

The sky was soooooooooooooo blue!

The sky was soooo blue

Later in the float I saw another eagle flying up the CT. 

Lunch with Madame Sherri

September 25, 2012

Madame Antoinette Sherri summered in Chesterfield, New Hampshire for thirty years beginning in the late 1920’s. Her lifestyle was unlike anything the local residents of Brattleboro had seen before, and she soon became an exotic and mysterious figure in the region.
She was a music hall singer in Paris and married a silent film actor and theatrical producer. The couple became theatrical costume designers and opened a shop in New York City’s theater district.
Antoinette (Madame) Sherri first came to Chesterfield during the prohibition era to visit her friend Jack Henderson, a Broadway actor who summered and partied here. Her husband passed away in 1924 and Madame Sherri, in her 50’s by this time, bought a farm on the Gulf Road, as a place to build her summer home. Her entourage of beautiful young girls and handsome young men from New York, her 1927 cream colored Packard touring car and the seemingly endless supply of money fascinated the local residents. Her foreign accent, extravagant dress and the stone “castle” that she had built added to the growing legend.



Madame Sherri's castle was a wonder and a mystery to locals. It quickly became a blend of fact and fiction ... of imagination and speculation.


















What stands in its place today are ruins. Maybe a ghost or two.  And stories ... lots of stories.


Eric Stanway, a New Hampshire author, recently published a book called, "Madame Sherri", which purports to tell the story of Madame Sherri and her castle.  We decided that in tribute to the legend, we would dress up and have a celebratory picnic at the site of the ruins.











I had a 1940's hat with a cool pheasant feather  for Anne to wear. Madam Sherri was rumored to ramble around Brattleboro wearing a long mink coat and nothing else. I suggested a similar approach to Anne, but my idea fell on deaf ears.  For myself, I had a old straw Stetson that I could wear with a black formal shirt I had in the closet. I decided that I needed a bow tie to complete the look.  A visit to the flea market  and fifty cents satisfied my need.














We chose a beautiful, sunny fall day, packed our picnic cooler, and headed for Madam Sherri Forest.  Since it was fro Madame Sherri, we agreed that we definitely would need a candelabra as a centerpiece for the table.










For the picnic itself, we selected shrimp for the shrimp cocktail, olives , artesian cheese from the Crowley Farm,  homemade pimento cheese and crackers, ham slices and ham sandwiches  with homegrown tomato, dill pickles, Stets leon-lime soda, and iced tea. For dessert, we added cashew nuts, candied lemon wedges, and briscotta.














As a special treat, we topped it all off with Limoncello.

We met a guy that was filming some promos for a project that he hoped to find investors for. he was more than happy to take our picture just to get us out of his way.

Stomachs full, we decided to take a short hike in Madame Sherri Forest to Indian Lake.  Along the way, a huge limb fell out a a tree onto the path in front of us.  Was this some cosmic coincidence or a warning from Madame Sherri from the other side.




We quickly simulated what it would be like if I had arrived just moments earlier. Clearly, this was a cosmic message to me. However, I was sure that I detected a hint of a smile on Anne's lips.  I checked the limb sections for saw marks and let it go.

Despite my simulated injury, we made it to Indian Lake and it was beautiful.

Here's to you, Madame Sherri. 

Sorry you missed the picnic.

Maybe next time, at my place. 

Oh yeah, wear your fur coat!

Step Back in Time With the Peru Fair - Peru VT

September 22, 2012

I guess the only way to say it is that we went whole hog. Another way to say it is that we love the Peru Fair and that it is our favorite fair in Vermont hands down. We headed out early (which is getting increasingly difficult to do)  in order not to miss the parade. They were running shuttle buses from Bolton Mountain. It had been a long time and a lot of pounds since we had been on a school bus. The seats are designed for three and Anne and I managed to squeeze two of us into the seat with just a bit of overlap into the aisle. We arrived in a few minutes in Peru and by clinching our butt muscles in unison, we exerted sufficient upward pressure to pop us both out of the seat and into the aisle. It was kinda like an airbag releasing and filling the available empty spaces nearby.




We threw our money on the table and headed inside the gates. One of the first sights was an artistic rendering of a pig. Not only was this to be a day of fun ... it was also to be a day filled culture and high-class art work to be savored.








In fifteen minutes, we had strolled only a short distance and Anne had already connected on a scarf that she wanted. Yes, it was a cool scarf. Yes, I liked it equally well. But, it was not in line with our policy of fixed income retirement non-spending. I say "our" but I mean "my". Maybe policy is not correct  ... guideline might be better ... or figment of my imagination. First purchase and the parade had barely started.





Small town parades. A plethora of old cars and fire engines with a few baton twirlers thrown in. The Peru Fair parade started with a bagpiper ... followed by an alpaca ... and then a lady in a wagon waving a toilet plunger like a royal scepter. In the time it took to pay for the scarf, the remainder of the parade passed us by while our heads were turned and the crowd filled the void.













Sometimes being at a fair is like going to a flea market. People blunt, and to the point ... direct and purposeful ... the intent of communication is to make a sale ... at all costs ... whatever it takes. Not the Peru Fair. People seem to be having fun. They talk with you, not at you. It's more like friends getting together.

And when people get together ... they eat! The food at the Peru Fair is exceptional. Not hot dogs ... not pretzels ... not fried dough! There was lobster bisque ... and corn chowder ... and quail kabobs ... and homemade ice cream.  And the stars of the show ...........





Roasted Corn on the Cob ...















Argentine Beef  with Chimichurri Sauce on a Crusty Bun ...

And the star of the show .... roast pig!

Along with the great food, is the entertainment. It is local at its best. Where the talent fell a bit short, the difference was made up for with exuberance and the sight of people genuinely having fun performing. The fair organizers made sure that every corner of the fair was saturated with good music.

            The cloggers kicked up their heels!  

The bands were down-to-earth and old-time for sure!

       John Specker on the fiddle is always a treat!

                                

What's not to love about the Peru Fair!

But, the day wasn't over. From the fair, we drove to Hapgood Pond to take a short hike. The park was closed as we expected, but we were surprised to find the trail closed as well. Seems Irene had washed out the bridge over Flood Brook. We decided we hike anyway ... I was sure we would find a way to cross the stream. The hike turned out to be just the ticket after strolling the fair.

Nothing like a sunny fall day in Vermont and beautiful pond setting for relaxation.

We had time for one last stop before heading for home. We stopped off in Weston VT to check out the Vermont Country Store. Why? Samples, samples, samples.  We ate until our arms were too tired to lift another toothpick.

The Vermont Country Store has everything you can imagine.

Everything you can imagine!

                         

I love the colors and the look of autumn in New England. 

Wonderful day!

Boogers Through a Straw - Amherst, MA

January 25, 2012

Our day in Amherst was a redo. We attempted this adventure once before, but one of planners of the adventure forgot that it was a holiday weekend and that the school might not be in session. Mistakes aside., we again headed for Amherst.

First stop was the Beneski Natural History Museum.  The museum was practically deserted. Oh yeah, everyone else was at work. Typically, I am not into natural history museums ... too many displays to read. In this case, I wanted to find out more about the dinosaur tracks in the Amherst area. I had visited the dinosaur tracks site just outside of Holyoke along the Connecticut River on an earlier excursion. Turned out, this museum had had an extensive display of tracks from thoroughout the area. In addition, there were  impressive fossil and skeleton displays as well.
















One thing I did learn, however, was never let your guard down where dinosaurs are concerned ... even dead ones.














Our next stop was just up the street ... the Mead Art Gallery on the Amherst College Campus. The Mead is a small facility with an interesting collection. The highlight of the visit was definitely the Nick Cave exhibit. Nick did a tribal dance costume display  and video that was colorful and unique.


















There is an Ethiopian Restaurant on Main Street in Amherst ... Raku. I love African food. I enjoyed the atmosphere, but the food was lackluster. Worth a try, but I won't be going back.










Before heading home, we decided to get a coffee or tea. We found the Lime/Red Tea Room. The specialty was bubble tea. I didn't know then, nor do I know now what bubble tea really is. You get your tea and they ask you what condiment you want in your tea. Per the waiter's suggestion, we got the tapioca.  The tea was good, but the tapioca just sunk to the bottom of the cup.  The waiter soon recognized that we had no idea what we were doing. He brought us both a big straw and explained that we should suck the tapioca out using the straw.  The down side of all of this advanced learning was that the tapioca both looked like and had the feel of snot being sucked through a straw ... which did not add to the pleasure of the beverage.

We finished our booger tea and headed for home. I wonder how bubble tea got its name?

Written in Stone - Ogunquit, ME

In reality, the trip to Ogunquit was to take care of some old business. We had gone to Portland, OR to celebrate our 40th anniversary. Each year for our anniversary, I try to build a rock cairn somewhere as a celebratory process. I had hoped to find a good spot in Portland, but alas, it did not present itself.

I decided to head for Ogunquit (where I had done an anniversary cairn before) to get the job done. And … I am retired … so why not on a Wednesday as a day trip combined with the beach, relaxation and a nice lunch.

We headed out early in order to get to the beach around 10:00 AM. Yes, I was stunned by the $25 charge to park on the beach lot (I am on a fixed income you know). It was high tide and the throngs of people were sardines in the can on the limited beach. I later took a picture from higher ground.

The beach was a solid mass of multi-color umbrellas … you could not actually see the beach.

We did the beach thing … first a long walk. The walk finalized my self-diagnosis of Plantar Faciiatis. Next came relaxing on the beach blanket and chair to read (I love my Kindle) for about an hour. Then, it was off to hike the Marginal Way.

The Marginal Way is a wonderful walk. The ocean views, rocky coastline, and pounding surf are incredible. We happened upon a section where there must have been 50 + small rock stacking left by other tourists.

No doubt, I am drawn to rock stackings. Nothing to do but I had to leave one of mine with the grouping.

Further on, we found a good spot with lots of available loose stones to do our anniversary cairn. Anne stayed on the path to avoid the necessity of a 911 call while I went down to do the actual stacking. It is as it should be since it is really my thing. Anne seemed to enjoy sitting on the bench above, talking to passer-bys and pointing out the crazy man below hauling stones and beach debris to make a rock sculpture.

Forty stones and one for good luck later, our anniversary monument was complete.

We finished our hike and took the trolley from Perkins Cove back to the center of the village and enjoyed a lunch of fish and chips for me and lobster roll for Anne. From there, it was back to the beach to relax and enjoy the activity around us. We finished off the day with a ride on the Trolley to Wells (just for the heck of it) and headed home.

It is amazing how tiring retirement can be … this relaxing is hard.