PAY ATTENTION !!!

I've been a little distracted.  My daughter is getting married in 5 days.  I should be in a sensory deprivation tank, unaware of anything.  But that is not the case.  I need to take care of...stuff.

One of the things that I needed to do was to trim branches over a sun room.  I had access to one of those poles with a trimmer and a pull cord that does a really nice job of chopping off branches.  But it was sticky.  Rats.

So I held it aloft and sprayed the innocuous device with WD-40 to loosen it up.  Of course after you do that, you need to test it, right?

Yank on the cord, cut a limb...when it's not stuck.

Pretty sharp clipper...with mechanical advantage!

Really good that the nail was involved,
or it might have been really deep.

Aren't you glad I spared your the gore?  I need to make sure that I concentrate and am not distracted.

In any case, I pledge that I will go nowhere near a chainsaw until the wedding is over.

AC Circuits Class

In the early 80’s, I had the privilege of being in one of Professor Yu Chang’s AC circuits classes at Union College.  It was obvious that he took pride in unmasking the less-than-intuitive mysteries of the configurations of components.  I was fascinated as I learned.

Not so for all of my classmates.  Two were young employees of GE, who regarded the course as a means to an end rather than an enlightening experience.  Class after class, Professor Chang’s frustration with their attitude became more apparent.  Frustration turned to action after a particularly galling inquiry suggesting, “Why are we bothering with this?” 

Professor Chang did not answer.  Instead, he turned to the blackboard, picked up the chalk, drew a horizontal line near the top, and then shaded the space above.

“What is that?” he asked.  We all looked around uneasily, not knowing what to say.  

“That is Heaven.”

He turned back to the board.  Another line horizontal line appeared near the bottom, this time with shading underneath.

“What is that?” he asked.  The room was silent, but the sidelong glances said, “This man has lost it.”

“That is Earth.”

He turned back to the blackboard one more time and proceeded to shade the space in between the two lines.  As he shaded, he asked, “What is this?”

When no one answered, he placed the chalk in the holder beneath the illustration, turned to the class, looking directly at the perpetrators, and calmly stated, “That...is Engineering.”

Professor Chang quickly turned and left the room, abbreviating our session.  All eyes turned to the malcontents, letting them know that our instructor was not the only one displeased.  Though the two remained in the few classes left in the semester, they never said another word.

Great Places in the Finger Lakes

There are many places of worth visiting in New York State's Finger Lakes region.  Here is an incomplete list for a flavor of what is available.

I'm guessing it will be a little warmer when you visit.

I'd be remiss not to mention the beauty of the lakes themselves.  While Keuka remains a personal favorite, all of these deep and narrow fingers of water are a wonder to behold.  Drive along the roads on the hills separating the lakes and you'll be treated to spectacular views.  

The view from the road running past Bully Hill Winery.

Sail, paddle, ride...whatever.  All great things to do.  Stop at any of the parks for a "refreshing" swim in the cold water, but remember to bring some footwear, since the zebra mussels have also determined that the finger lakes are wonderful places to live.


Within an hour's drive from Branchport, NY, where Chateau Esperanza is located, the following places of interest reside.

Chateau Esperanza, high above Keuka Lake

Wineries - There are many.  This is not Napa or Sonoma, but you may be surprised by the quality of the wine.  You may wish to look them up here or on many other websites.

Personal recommendations, all on Keuka Lake, are Dr. Frank, for what we perceive to be the best reds in the area; Heron Hill, for interesting whites and a wonderful winery reminiscent of Myst, Bully Hill not so much for the wine (unless you like it sweet) as for the history of Walter Taylor and an excellent cafe for lunch.  On the east side, go to MacGregor, for a fine Gewurtztraminer and Riesling.

Breweries - check out http://fingerlakesbeertrail.com/content/  to see what tickles your fancy.  Keuka Brewing just won the F.X. Matt Memorial Cup award for a few of their offerings.  From personal experience, I'm guessing they have improved since my visit a few years ago.

Keuka Lake State Park -  In the words of Joe Walsh, "I've never been there, they tell me it's nice."  Camping available, it is supposed to be an 11 minute walk from Chateau Esperanza.

Garrett Chapel - Out on the end of the bluff, which is what they call the long finger of land that splits the lake into a "Y" shape, there is a chapel built on the way down to the lake level road.  It is a memorial to a son who died too young.  Built of Italian stone and surrounding by small but interesting grounds, visiting is well worth the drive to enjoy the peaceful place.

Hammondsport, NY - Quaint town at the southern end of Keuka Lake.  In addition to the physical beauty of the town, there are a few restaurants that cater to a fine palate, and at least one dive bar.  This town was voted #1 small town in the country by one of those polls that sell advertising.

Hammondsport is down in the valley about a mile past where Bully Hill comes down to the water.

There are many restaurants accessible by land and water.  Get one drink if by land, two if by sea.

Jazz Brunch on Sundays!

Natural Beauty - Waterfalls, et al.  Watkins Glen, at the south end of Seneca Lake, is a superb example of water modifying the sedimentary rock of the area into a ravine well worth appreciating.  Walk under the waterfall!  (Nature not your thing?  If you happen like motor sports, check out the schedule at Watkins Glen International.)

There are also many hiking trails, not for flatlanders, on the rims of the gorges that provide spectacular views.  One of the best, and still fairly wild, is Conklin Gully near the south end of Canandaigua Lake. 

One step forward takes you to the bottom in a hurry.

Grimes Glen in Naples is a good payoff for a short hike at water level, but you'll probably see a lot more people.

A nice communal shower.

Canandaigua is a great town, coincidentally located on Canandaigua Lake.  From Keuka, it's a nice ride in the hills if you take the route through Branchport, Guyanoga, Friend, Potter and Rushville. (I love dropping names of exotic places.) There is generally a good time to be had at the north end of the lake, either walking through the park along the water's edge, or enjoying the offerings of the New York Wine and Culinary Center.  There is also a different MacGregor's across the street, where I've been led to believe they have Boddington's on tap.


If you're not intimidated by a little more driving, I'd suggest:

Corning Museum of Glass, which has an interesting glassmaking demonstrations that allow participation.  You can also see the primates fabricating their famed Gorilla Glass.

In Ithaca, one can tour Cornell University, see even more gorges, and wander the streets to enjoy one of the last bastions of hippie culture.

Rochester, where something called photographic film was once made, provides ample opportunity to explore history.  Susan B. Anthony's house is staffed by guides who make her fledgeling feminist era come alive, and George Eastman's House house is a fine period mansion combined with a photographic museum.  

But you really need get down to Sha-lott (spelled Charlotte) and enjoy the Beach on Lake Ontario at the mouth of the Genesee River.  It's required to get an Abbotts Frozen Custard and then walk to the beach as it dribbles down your fingers faster than you can consume it.

And now that I think of it, Festivals!  Rochester has undergone the progression from Flour City to Flower City to Photo City and now Festival City.  If there isn't one ongoing, there will be one soon.  To name of few, there is the Lilac Festival, where 10 days of entertainment pairs with the lovely fragrance and appearance of the Lilac bushes in a Frederick Law Olmsted park,  the Corn Hill Arts Festival for arts and crafts far above and beyond the usual fare, and the Xerox Rochester International Jazz Festival, where amazing musicians appear everywhere downtown.  You might get lucky and catch one when you're in town.

Letchworth - The grand canyon of the east.  I've heard that moniker assigned to 4 or 5 different places.  Let's face it...there is only one Grand Canyon, and it's not in the east.  But this place is still impressive.  Great gorge, great waterfalls, and the Glen Iris is a restaurant with timeless charm.

The Genesee River flows north with verve.

Niagara Falls - If you've never seen it, go.  4 of the 5 great lakes drain through the Niagara river, and here is is where it is at is most powerful and spectacular.  The rapids and the whirlpool are also worth seeing.  Goat Island on the American side is great to get up close and personal with the water, but the best view is from the park below the hoppin' Canadian side town.  Bring your passport!

Niagara-on-the-lake - a wonderful Canadian town at the mouth of the Niagara.  The town itself is great to walk around and appreciate the floral embellishment of the main street.  The Oban Inn is a great place to eat, but make sure you call for reservations.  Patrons of the arts will enjoy catching a show at the Shaw Festival, and sporting enthusiasts might even be able to observe lawn bowling at its finest, now on artificial turf.

I'm sure I've missed many things, but this is a good start.  If you've never been to the area, you owe it to yourself to sample some of these offerings.  And if you need a guide, just let me know, and I'll be happy to help out providing you pay all my expenses and those of my entourage.  We'll make sure you have a good time!

Bon Voyage, mise à jour

If you read the previous post about our misadventures in Red Creek,  you know that my little camera had gone missing when our craft became a submarine.  Alas, poor Olympus.  I knew him, Nikon.

Can you believe it?  The camera is found.  Not only found, but since it is waterproof to depths beyond those to which we plunged, all is fully functional.  So here are a few more iconic images from our journey.

Hail Doug, the Conquering Hero.
He came, he saw, he conquered MacGregors.
Note the stylish and color coordinated PFD.

Here is Randy, demonstrating that the the paddle is mightier than MacGregors.
What do you think is running through the mind of the woman in the background?

Here we see Doug in high spirits,
having made it into the canoe on only his second attempt.

Full appreciation of Doug's plight is difficult from the previous image.
A close-up is warranted.
Note the glistening shoes, clinging pants and matted hair.
His good cheer is impressive!

Yes, Mary is the one who found the camera.  I was surprised that she was able to do so with the current conditions.  But she is determined, and she dove again and again until she surprised even herself by retrieving the camera...from the clothes hamper.

Bon Voyage!

Doug is moving away.  He and his wife have decided that proximity to grandchildren is more important than volunteering about a million hours at the Rochester Curling Club.  The nerve of some people.

Nonetheless, an ample crew decided to pay homage to Doug at a final luncheon at his favorite watering hole.  MacGregors is the current incarnation of Red Creek, the long time hotspot that coincidentally resided near the headwaters of the Red Creek waterway. 

In a moment of inspiration, I suggested to Doug that it was appropriate to paddle to the gathering instead of the boring and traditional arrival via automobile.  We were already canoeing and camping buddies, so it made great sense to take the water route to the going away party.  He bought it, so we were to meet under the Route 390 bridge and be on our way.

It was a Good Friday for a paddle.  On my previous trip up the crick, I had been told by a couple in kayaks that one could get far upstream when the water was high.  So this was a good Friday to see how far we could get.  

Did you know that in New York State,
you are required to wear your PFD between October 1 and May 1?

We paddled past numerous backyards and into wilder sections.  The tiny diving duck kept a safe distance, but the deer stood and watched us pass.  

“Humans in a boat.  Should we run?”  
“Nawww...those are paddles in their hands.  Nothing to worry about.” 

We passed under numerous deadfalls, and had to pick our way around submerged logs, but only had to portage once.  A massive conglomeration of snags forced us to take the canoe out of the water and find the least damaging way through the prickers, but it was only a short delay.  We soon paddled under the Jefferson Road bridge and beached our craft.  The trip had taken less time that we anticipated, so none of our group were there to witness our triumphant arrival at MacGregors.  To make amends for our early arrival, we positioned the canoe in full view of the entryway and went inside to celebrate our conquest of Red Creek.  

The water was considerably higher, more swift, and less clear
than this example from my previous trek.

A fine sendoff ensued.  What a great time.  Toast after toast to a good friend all will miss.  Too soon, it was time to go, so we stayed until well past the proper departure time.  Finally, we quaffed the last pint (“We can share one, right?”) and everyone headed to their respective vehicles.

There was a little riffle above our takeout point, so we decided it would be fun to take the canoe a little farther upstream and run the small rapid section.  The put-in was a longer step down than we liked, but being skilled canoeists, and veterans of many Adirondack voyages, it would not be a problem.  Doug demonstrated proper technique by stepping hard into the center of the boat and then going head-first over the side.  

Completely soaked, he climbed out of the water and made a gentler second attempt.  This time he succeeded getting into the boat without further mishap.  I let myself gingerly down into the stern and we were off.  

We made good time heading downstream, particularly since Doug was paddling not only for speed, but also to stay warm.  The portage around the snag was easily negotiated since the path was previously blazed.  Further downstream, we came to a tree angled across the stream so that passage was only possible near the eastern shore, and as we had found on the way up, also by leaning well back and using our hands to coax our craft underneath the rough bark.

The canoe was half way through the opening when suddenly it turned 90 degrees from the preferred orientation.  Evidently the magnetic force of the tree had repulsed our wooden gunwales unevenly, forcing the starboard under the waterline.  Measuring carefully, I discovered that particular point was chest deep.  And not nearly as cold as I expected. 

After emptying our vehicle and climbing back in, we headed downstream with renewed vim and vigor.  Eager to end the voyage, we declined to rescue the floating softballs we had observed on the way in.  Instead, we buzzed right past the baseball fields and our original rocky launch, opting instead for the floating dock of the Genesee Rowing Club.  

Much later, it became apparent that Red Creek was not named
for the color of its mud.

The low dock made for easy egress from the water.  Doug carried the canoe and paddles up to the service road while I ran off to get the Ford Expedition that serves well as a boating service vehicle.  Choosing not to spend the ride home in clingy soaked pants, I took them off and threw them into the back of the truck.  I drove back near the dock and allowed Doug to help stuff the canoe through the hatchback window, hooking the bow over the passenger seat.  Glad I had decided not to affix the boat to the roof, which would have taken significantly more time.

A very fine boat-carting vehicle.

Having docked just after I ran off, the ladies and one gent of the Genesee Rowing Club enjoyed our small display of damp disembarkation.  However, we had to cut it short because we began to feel the cold after the paddling had ceased.  I drove Doug to his car, and we were off, pronto.

As you might guess, other equally well-made plans had been thwarted by the tardiness of our journey.  In addition to missing a business call, I arrived home after our dinner guest had arrived, saying hello and moving by tentatively, still dripping from my stylish underwear.  “Happy Birthday, Judy!”  Thankfully, I had given up tighty-whities years earlier.

No passive observer, this little book.
Here it sits, drying after all the action.
I had just begun a new one, and the writing on page 1 is obscured from view.

And if you lament the paucity of documentary pictures in this post, have no fear.  I’ll be going back in warmer weather and on (not in) lower water to poke around the bottom near the tree to see if I can find my little waterproof camera.

The End of the Season

With April and warmth approaching,
this looks like the final ski of the season.

I was off showing our Picture-Fix software at the Beneath The Sea show in the New Jersey Meadowlands when Rochester got its late March winter blanket.  Though tired, I was thinking that getting home late Sunday would allow me to ski on Monday before the snow was all gone.  I would deal with what was left in the driveway and then head out the back for some fun and exercise.

However, there was more fun-with-snow to be had.  The driving snowstorm I encountered during almost the entire south to north journey through Pennsylvania and on past Binghamton made me concentrate so hard that I was unable to get sleepy. I drove the 330 miles from Secaucus to my house with one stop, pretty wired the entire way. I didn’t even yawn until I got to downtown Rochester, about 10 miles from my goal.

With the emergency lights from the crash on the other side of the highway making the falling snow flicker alternately red, yellow and blue, I accelerated up the hill at the Penn-NY border, dodging the first bus stuck in the center lane on the left, and skirting the second partly on the shoulder on the right since it had come to a stop across 2 of the 3 northbound lanes.  Amazing how the traffic thinned out after that.

My chewing gum remained unopened, and I purchased no coffee…I relied on a loud soundtrack to augment my concentration in keeping sleep at a distance. My only regret is that I did not have “We Gotta Get Out Of This Place” queued up as I left the stranded busses in the distance.

Well past the snow, I took a quick break at the NYS Thruway rest area just beyond Syracuse. As I emerged from my car, a lady called out to me, “That wasn’t much fun, was it?”

“Scranton?” I asked, puzzled by how she would know. “That was horrible.”

I looked back and knew. Though the Thruway was completely dry, a thick coating of ice covered the entire grill of my car. I chipped the hitchhiking ice from my headlights and went inside to reward myself with a milkshake.

The next day, though tired from the drive, I decided I'd better get out on the snow since I'd likely not have another chance until November.  A few yards past my back gate, I heard the noisy bird and decided I'd go back and get the camera.

Is that him?

The woodpecker had found a fine dining location.  The bright sun had warmed the dead limb on the silver maple so that the ants were active.   My pileated pal was happily busy, so I was able to approach below without making him decide I was too close for comfort.

There he is.

Yakkin'

 The pileated woodpecker has a raucous call.  I wondered why any bird would call so much attention to itself until I remembered, "This is a WOODPECKER."  Their dietary habits announce their presence far and wide, so what's the difference if their call is loud?  I've read that they make these noises to establish their territory.  Worked perfectly with me.  I stayed out of the tree.

The selected tree providing color against the sky.
If silver maples have red buds, then red maples...

"You looking at me?"

Part of the meal in the beak.

Gravity assisted meal insertion.

Gulp!

I moved on, leaving my friend to finish his meal and pick up the check.

Not usually necessary in Rochester, NY,
sunglasses enhanced the snowy visuals.

The varying reflections of the sun off the snow
provided a topographical appreciation of the sand trap.

An indication that the geese had preceded me.

Positive proof of aforementioned fowl.

Odd peeling bark and fruit balls adorn the sycamore.

Obviously a fan, the sycamore has decorated itself
in honor of March Madness. 

Climb up, slide down.
I miss playground.

OK, I think this is quite enough with the snow already.  Yes, I have enjoyed the skiing, but enough is enough.  Time to move on to flower pictures and summer birds.   And cars with the rag top down.

Thank you, aconites!
Tulips, let's get with the program.

Wausau

For me, Wausau (Waw-saw), Wisconsin is more of a time than a place.  Once each year, my family would make the 20-hour car ride from Rochester, NY to visit my Mother's parents.

Dad used to drive the entire way in one shot.  Craziness, but he had limited vacation and was as close to the Man of Steel as anyone I've ever known.  I chose to arrive via the rental car I picked up at the Dane County Regional Airport just outside of Madison.

The old train station provided the iconic logo for the Wausau Insurance Company, long since absorbed by Liberty Mutual.  I have to wonder if I'll be writing similar words about "Kodak" in the near future.

Kresge's is no more, but this fine square has taken its place.
I'd like to sit and take in a concert when it's a little warmer.

My Grandfather managed the Grand Theater many years ago.
The temperature readout may be a little off.

We ate at a diner he probably frequented,
and then walked over to the theater.

I couldn't take pictures inside the theatre because a copyrighted show was setting up.
Huh?  Don't look.

The Wausau Theater Company made the decision to close the Grand during the depression because of its relatively high cost of operation.  When the smaller Wausau Theater was showing Eddie Cantor's wildly popular "Whoopee," there were so many moviegoers that they could fill both theaters.  But there was only one print of the film.  Seizing the opportunity, my Grandfather ran the reels across town on his bike so that two shows could run off one print.  Soon the projector was running at the Grand and the place was packed.  The theater remained open from that day on.  Queue "Happy Days Are Here Again!" right after "Makin' Whoopee!"

Sporting Lumberjack high fashion,
I posed with the list of names of those supporting the remodeling of the theater.
"Hi, Mom!"

This blurry shot shows the brand new Wausau Curling Club.  Impressive!
It turns out my little travel camera doesn't like extreme cold.

Well of course they're close.  They're right over there.

A huge viewing area overlooking the 8 sheets of ice.
I'd never seen so many curling stones in one place.

Underutilized.
Want to get a game going?

The warm room, where everyone gathers after a game, is also huge.
The blurry man told me I was welcome to play the next time I was in town.

OK, so I'm fascinated by the facility.
To put it in perspective, the population of the Wausau area is about 135K, 
and they have 8 sheets.
The Rochester area has over one million people, and 4 sheet of ice.

The old homestead.

I used to play wiffleball with my Grandfather in the driveway by the hedge on the left (on days when it was a little less snow-covered).  Someone fouled one off into the hedge, so I went in after the the wayward ball.  The bees living there took exception to my presence, and one stung me in the ear.  I bravely screamed and ran into the house to the waiting arms of my Grandmother.  While she was looking for the meat tenderizer, "Grampie" came in to announce that he had done in the offending bee.  

It made me feel better to know that my assailant had come to justice.

This is the house  my Great Grandparents lived in.
They lived in the left side.
Or maybe they lived in a similar house down the street that has since
been torn down.  Does it matter?

The trestle over the river.

Behind my Great-Grandparent's house was a railroad siding that angled across the Wisconsin River.  One sunny afternoon, my fearless father decided that we should walk across it, just to get to the other side.  I was terrified.  My pleading made convinced him to turn around just after we were half way across.  

Every step scared me.  The railroad ties were just far enough apart that I could see myself falling through them and into the swirling water far below.  Or maybe a smoke-belching steam locomotive would barrel down the tracks right at us and we'd have to run for our lives.  Or worse.  Maybe I'd slightly misjudged the space between the ties, and I'd fall partway through with my head getting stuck between the 6 by 6 timbers.  At the moment I fell, I'd hear the train whistle.

Dad may have thought I was a scaredy-cat, but the truth was that I was very good at assessing all the possibilities.

Looking down on from the Rib Mountain Ski Area.

Wausau lies below.
Rib Mountain is the highest point in Wisconsin.
Some say that Timms Hill is 25 feet higher, but all the locals know that can't be.
That's a hill, and this is Rib MOUNTAIN!

When Greg and Pat dropped me off back at the hotel around noon, I went directly to the rental car and turned the key.  "Ruurrr, Ruurrr, Rooooommm!"  It protested mightily, but did manage to start.  And then it made all kinds of nasty noises as it came up to temperature.  "What's the big deal?" I thought.  It was only 15 degrees F below zero.

Due to weekly car rental rates and airfare,
it made more sense to drive back to Madison to catch the flight home.
The moist exhaust from the paper mills south of Wausau
made for some spectacular clouds.

The wind across the prairie made for some interesting conditions.
The Northeastern edge of the prairie in in Wisconsin (who knew?), 
and Mr Wright's Taliesin was only a few miles to the west.
Next time.

All along Interstate 39, westside trees and fences provided windbreaks.
I might still be there if that was not the case.
Decide for yourself if that was fortunate or not.