Our Wander Years

Cooperstown, NY, and the Baseball Hall of Fame

Posted on September 19, 2012 by Sparky

Our bucket lists were reduced by one yesterday. We visited the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown, NY.

Was it worth the trip? Well, it was kinda on the way to California, so why not drop in? I think, though, that we were right in resisting the urge to make it a weekend trip all these years. From Boston it is about 5 hours each way – a LOT of driving for a 2-day weekend. A long weekend would be more feasible, but I suspect the place is mobbed on long weekends. It was actually pretty busy yesterday – surprisingly so given that it is after Labor Day and the weather was terrible (tornado watches and wind advisories all along the east coast, including Cooperstown). But I still found free on-street parking within four blocks of the museum and didn’t have to shove anyone out of the way to view Curt Schilling’s bloody sock. The weather made it a bit unpleasant to wander around the downtown area, but, all in all, we were patting ourselves on the backs for being so prescient as to plan a museum visit on a crappy day. As Yoda would say, very bright we are.

One factor that we didn’t rate highly enough when thinking about a visit to Cooperstown is the village itself. It is slap-your-face cute and a significant attraction in its own right. Of course the HOF attracts all kinds of baseball memorabilia shops, but I didn’t expect to find a very quaint general store (like the Ben Franklin of my youth) right next door to the museum. Or colonial houses and ancient pubs. The environs were a big plus and made the day doubly enjoyable.

Highlights of the Hall of Fame visit: learning about the Red Sox history (the club originated in Cincinnati as the Red Stockings), seeing various artifacts of Red Sox history (yes, including the bloody sock), learning about rule changes over the years, seeing the Babe Ruth exhibit and Doubleday Field, the site of the Hall of Fame game every year. The field is surprisingly small in terms of capacity; just about any AA minor league club would have a larger stadium.

The Baseball Hall of Fame

Doubleday Field

The playing field on a rainy day

Red Sox memorabilia, with Bloody Sock

The Cy Young painting in the main entrance

Jett in downtown Cooperstown

We left the dogs home alone while we were gone for 5 hours. That was the only drama of the day – worrying about whether Grace would get nervous and eat the coach. When we returned and saw neither flames nor a hole chewed in the side, we were relieved.

Our home for the last two nights was the Beaver Valley Campground in Milford, NY. In many respects this was the best campground yet – spacious, sparkly clean, nicely landscaped and, yes, it even has beavers.

A resident beaver

Patience at Beaver Valley

Today we are embarking on our longest haul to date: 269 miles to Pennsylvania Dutch country.

If we can get out of the mud.

Categories: GTW, NY, Places, RV Parks | Leave a comment

GTW Hop 2: Warwick, MA, to Milford, NY

Posted on September 18, 2012 by Sparky

219 miles via MA 2, I-91, I-90, I-87, I-88 and NY 28. Cumulative distance: 324 miles.

GTW Hop 2, Warwick MA to Milford NY

This hop was mostly on interstate highways and was (thank God!) uneventful. The day was sunny, the sky was dotted with happy puffy clouds and birds were singing. All was well with the world.

But that would be too boring. There is another slight “ding” to report (it seems like it is a ding a day, which, as Dave Barry would say, would be a good name for a rock band – the Dingadays), but to the truck this time. As we left the campground at noon and traversed the rather rough road to the exit, the back corner of the truck came in contact with the suspended pin support bars on the underside of the fiver, snapping off a plastic corner piece. Trivial, really. But annoying.

Can’t we have just ONE incident-free day?

I have to say that the Catskills are really beautiful. We passed many farms and homes that could be fodder for a pastoral painter.

Our home for the next two nights is the Beaver Valley Campground in Milford, NY, just a few miles from the Baseball Hall of Fame in Cooperstown. Initial impression: best campground yet. The grounds are immaculate, the restrooms spotless and the campsites very well provisioned and maintained.

I am writing this on Tuesday morning and the rain is pouring down. But we don’t really care: it is a museum day.

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Warwick, MA

Posted on September 17, 2012 by Sparky

Nobody knows Warwick, MA. Warwick, RI, sure. But Warwick, MA? Nope, never heard of it. Even “locals” like my brother-in-law Ray who lives seasonally in New Salem, MA, just a few miles away, had never heard of it. And small wonder. Almost no one lives here (2010 population: 780) and it has no industry to speak of. What is does have aplenty is trees. It is basically wall-to-wall forest. If you like long walks in the woods, you will love Warwick.

The reason we spent three nights here, as I have already mentioned, was the combo birthday bash and farewell party thrown by Ray and Kim in the burgeoning metropolis (2010 population: 990) of New Salem (a.k.a. “the forgotten Franklin County town”). The dominant geological feature of New Salem is the Quabbin Reservoir, one of the largest public water reservoirs in the country (over 410 billion gallons capacity). In addition to providing pure drinking water to most of eastern Massachusetts, including Boston, it is also a wildlife sanctuary. Bald eagles have been reintroduced there and the population is growing.

Ray and Kim’s cottage is surrounded on three sides by restricted-access watershed land and they see the wildlife up close. Hummingbirds swarm their feeders, wild turkeys, deer and moose occasionally wander through the yard and eagles sometimes swoop by. It is a very serene place.

We stayed at the Wagon Wheel Campgroundin Warwick. I previously mentioned our misadventures in finding the place, so if you go there I suggest that you enter the coordinates into your GPS rather than relying on the address. It is much larger than Saddleback with over 100 sites, almost all of which have full hookups. It was a joy being able to set up the sewer line so that it would drain by gravity alone. It also offers horse-drawn hayrides. We didn’t go on one, but I can imagine that the kiddies would love it.

: The “safari field”

: One of the Wagon Wheel horses

: The Wagon Wheel office and store

It being mid-September in one of the coldest parts of Massachusetts (Orange, just to the south, is pretty consistently mentioned as the coldest spot in the state in winter weather reports), most of the sites are either unoccupied or occupied by vacant seasonal RVs. We didn’t have any neighbors within a hundred yards. Which is probably a good thing as the dogs got loose on our return from the party Saturday night and decided to explore the campground. In the pitch black (and it gets VERY dark in Warwick – on a clear night the Milky Way stands out like a smudged White-Out streak in the sky) they disappeared from sight immediately. As it was “quiet time” I had to call in a whisper. Grace came back almost immediately, but Cha-Cha wandered around for several minutes before deciding to return. I should have locked him out. Would have served him right. But he might have succumbed to frostbite (37 degrees at 6am today).

The Wagon Wheel is hosted by Scott and Kim Williams. We didn’t meet Scott, but we did meet Kim and their son Wade, both of whom were very helpful. They made us feel very welcome.

But it is too damn cold here. Time to head south.

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Happy birthday until we meet again

Posted on September 16, 2012 by Sparky

Saying goodbye is hard for everyone, but is particularly hard for Jett, who has a large, close-knit family. She originally had 7 siblings. Three sisters are gone now, but two sisters and two brothers remain. The older brother, George, lives in Rockport, MA, which Jett regards as her “home town,” despite the fact that she only spent summers there. But it is a beautiful spot and one which is hard to leave. George, always a homebody, is barely mobile now and you would have to strap him to the back of the commuter train to get him “over the bridge” and out of town.

Which is why he is the only one of Jett’s four living siblings who didn’t make it to the party hosted yesterday by younger brother Ray at his bucolic cottage in New Salem, MA. The occasion was a combination 60th birthday party for Ray (who isn’t actually 60 until next month but wanted us to share in his cake) and a farewell-until-we-meet-again party for us. Also in attendance were Jett’s sisters Sybil and Christine, Christine’s husband John and Raymond’s lovely wife Kim. We brought our dogs, who are always welcome at Ray’s cottage, and they took advantage of their rare off-the-leash opportunity to race around his expansive yard with youthful exuberance. The cottage is so far off the beaten path that we had no worries about them running into the street; the only danger was a risk of an unexpected encounter with a moose or porcupine, or perhaps being swooped up by an eagle. But nothing bad happened and they ended the evening tired but very, very happy.

Meanwhile the humans were chit-chatting away, snacking on a variety of hors d’oeuvres, sipping wine and trying very hard to balance the happiness of the birthday event with the sadness of the farewell event. Some poignant toasts were made at dinner and some heartfelt gifts were distributed afterward. The goodbyes were teary – especially with Christine who was leaving in the morning to visit her son in Texas. But the farewells with the others will occur today, after we meet for brunch.

Then, I expect, Jett will have a good bawl in private.

None of my family, which is not so close-knit, made it to this event. However, I will see my son Tony, his significant other Krystle and their lovely daughter (and my granddaughter) Liliani today. There could be a few tears there, too.

Jett, Sybil, Kim and Christine

John, Ray and Sparky

Christine and Jett

The expansive yard

The siblings, Ray, Sybil and Jett

Backyard driftwood art

Categories: MA, Places, Preparation/Planning | Leave a comment

GTW Hop 1: Northwood, NH, to Warwick, MA

Posted on September 15, 2012 by Sparky

105 miles via US 202, NH 9, 10 and 78 and MA 78. Cumulative distance: 105 miles.

GTW Hop 1, Northwood NH to Warwick MA

FYI: “GTW” stands for Great Trip West.

This was a nice trip, right up until we got to the Wagon Wheel campground. The problem? We didn’t know that we had arrived. We were relying on the GPS and it took us about a third of a mile beyond the entrance (which wasn’t well marked) and around a bend. When the nice GPS voice announced that we had arrived we were surrounded by dense woods. Then the adventure began…

But first, the route. The stretch down US 202 to Concord was part of the training route that we took the day before, so no surprises there. It is a very nice road for a big rig – wide lanes and most 4-lane road. Then we got off on NH 9 and took a little detour into the WalMart parking lot to return a dog harness. This was our first WalMart parking lot experience. WalMart is very RV-friendly and many stores let RVs park overnight for free (which really pisses off the local campground owners). I don’t know how many parked there overnight, but when we arrived about 1:30pm there were about 30 RVs parked there. A couple of them were even tailgating, which doesn’t strike me as a great way to spend a sunny afternoon – sitting in a lawn chair on the WalMart tarmac, with cars coming and going. It seems more like RV purgatory. But to each his own.

The trip down NH 9 and 10 was also very pleasant. This is mostly 2-lane road, but with some slow lanes to allow passing on long uphill climbs. This stretch ended in Winchester, NH, which was one of the few towns that we went through. We were struck by how different this Winchester was from the very affluent Winchester, MA. This Winchester has public housing (and pretty crappy housing at that) lining Main Street. The nicest buildings in town were the two senior housing complexes and the rehab center on the southern edge of town. It appears that growing old and infirm is the biggest growth industry in Winchester.

The ride down 78 – in both NH and MA – was narrow, hilly and twisty. But totally devoid of traffic and quite pleasant to drive. I think it would be a great road for a motorcycle or sporty convertible.

Then we got to the campground. But didn’t see it (or any signs for it) and went on by. The GPS then “recalculated” us onto a route that left us staring at the thing that to someone driving a big rig is like staring at a fire-breathing dragon: a low bridge. I had dutifully downloaded the “low clearance” POI file for our Garmin, but it had no effect in this case. So, as a complete novice with fewer than 200 miles of towing experience to my name, I had to execute a very difficult 3-point turn on very narrow roads. I lost my head a bit (I was too preoccupied with cursing to think straight) and started backing up without waiting for Jett to get out and direct me. And immediately swung the back end into a telephone pole. I would call that “dropping the baby, part 2.” Again, not a huge amount of damage, but I did put a scratch on a lower panel and dented the bunkhouse slide topper. Of course it couldn’t be the one that was already damaged. Nope, it had to be the other one. So now I have a matched pair of damaged toppers.

But we did get the rig turned around and got it back to the vicinity of the “you have arrived at your destination” announcement, at the entrance to a state forest. I parked the rig on that entrance road and walked up a bit to see if I could spot a sign to the campground. Nothing. Meanwhile Jett was flagging down a motorist and asked for directions. We were only a few hundred yards away, but it was around a corner and not visible.

Naturally, as soon as we learned where it was I spotted a small sign, high up in the trees and mostly obscured by leaves, that pointed us to the campground.

So we finally arrived and backed into a wide-open site (and, if I say so myself, nicely executed on my part). Then we tried to call Jett’s brother to let him know we had arrived. No cell service. I had to drive 7 miles into Orange, MA, before I could get a signal. I took the opportunity to refuel.

After some effort we got an internet connection at the campground, which is how I am able to post this.

Then we crashed, exhausted from the stress. Not the most auspicious start to our journey.

Categories: Adventures, GTW, MA, NH, Places, Routes | 2 Comments

Northwood, NH

Posted on September 14, 2012 by Sparky

Our Great Trip West begins today! The starting point for our trip west is Northwood, NH. Specifically, the Saddleback Campground on Route 43 in Northwood, NH. We have spent most weekends since June in the campground – and have lived here full-time since September 1 – and have learned a little about the community. In our view, Northwood has three highlights:

The Saddleback Campground itself. It is small – just 20-something sites – and not a lot of amenities, but it has Les and Nancy Haskell and they are two of the nicest, most helpful campground hosts you will find anywhere. They kindly helped us find someone to haul the fiver onto the site and were very helpful in giving me some instructions on how to maneuver my rig in tight spots. They also had two fireworks shows during the summer which were very intimate – no need to fight the swarm of half-a-million souls on the Boston Esplanade to celebrate the 4th! And the end-of-summer adult party, featuring the Effengees, was a blast!
Les and Nancy Haskell
Johnson’s Seafood and Steak – a fine restaurant, but an incredible ice cream shop. Their “small” serving of ice cream is HUGE and their “large” is ginormous. I ordered the large grapenut custard ice cream and had to take it back to the RV and put it into the freezer. Three sittings were needed to finish it. Unbelievable value! And very tasty, too.
Cooper Hill Pizzeria is a very fine local pub/pizzeria/restaurant. We had several dinners there – sandwiches, pasta and pizza – and were never disappointed. One Sunday breakfast, too.

Northwood also has Lucas Pond, where Jett’s sister has a cabin. That is the reason why we came to Northwood this summer. It is a great place, but it is private and I have described its beauty previously, so I won’t say any more about it.

On to Warwick, MA!

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On the road again for the first time

Posted on September 13, 2012 by Sparky

Yesterday was a big day in my new fulltimer life: I hauled the fiver on public roads and no one died. I didn’t even ding it. No problems at all, really. One of the fiver’s brakes was a bit squeaky, but that could just be rust. I hope.

The truck handled beautifully. It accelerated well and, more importantly, decelerated well – the brakes worked better than I hoped. As Rosco, my driver trainer, a guy with 20 years of experience driving gas tankers, said, “You’ve got a nice rig here.” “Nice rig” is high praise, I think, among the trucker set.

The joy of my success was somewhat mitigated by a problem that surfaced after I had backed the coach onto our site-of-the-day: the front jacks, needed to raise the RV to ready it for unhitching, didn’t work. No power. I had this image of us traveling for days without being able to unhitch the truck. Or, more likely, delaying our departure (and missing our Saturday night going-away party) until we could get a repairman to find his way to Northwood.

But I tracked down the problem: a blown in-line fuse that I didn’t know existed. Unfortunately, it was a 30-amp fuse, of which I had none. But I did have 2 spare 20-amp fuses and they were sufficient (barely – I blew one and nursed the other by operating the jacks in short bursts) to lift the fiver off the hitch. That allowed me to free the truck and hustle down to the local Camping World to get some fuses. It is 16 miles away, but in NH that qualifies as “local.”

Today we are going to take it out for a second driving session. And by “we” I mean Jett and me. We’ll see how Jett does. She has very little experience in big rigs (unlike me, veteran that I am), so it will be interesting to see how white her knuckles get.

Categories: Preparation/Planning | Leave a comment

Not quite retired

Posted on September 12, 2012 by Sparky

Last Friday was my last day of work. For three months. Then I resume working in California. So my status is “not quite retired.”

I really intended to resign. I had my resignation letter typed up and in my hand. But on the day I planned to hand it to my boss – just over four weeks ago – I learned that another member of our very small group was also leaving. As losing 40% of her staff at the same time would be quite a blow to my boss, I started searching for ways to soften the impact.

Well, we knew we were wintering in California, somewhere south of San Francisco. We knew we had to work at least half the year to make ends meet. The home office is in Silicon Valley which is… south of San Francisco. Hmmm…

I didn’t think the company would go for it, but when I told my boss that I had to leave Massachusetts in September for at least 3 months, I offered the option of a leave-of-absence. That would simply many things for us: we wouldn’t need to scramble to find something to do, I wouldn’t have to take a big pay cut and benefits would extend indefinitely (though we would, of course, have to pay for COBRA during the LOA). But then COBRA would extend for 18 months after I really did retire, which would get Jett much closer to her Medicare eligibility.

Much to my surprise, the company took the offer. So I am on a three-month LOA. I will resume working December 10.

Of course the company benefits, too. They don’t have to buy me a gold watch.

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Dropping the baby

Posted on September 11, 2012 by Sparky

I dinged the fiver. Not too bad – just the end cap of the canvas topper for one of the bunkhouse slides. But I feel like a babysitter who has dropped the baby. If only I had been more careful…

The occasion was the tail end of a 3-hour driver training session at the campground. I had already successfully pulled the coach off of its very tricky seasonal site, threading the needle between the tree and the stump that guarded the access to that location. I had also backed it into a slightly elevated site. Then it was suggested (by Nancy, the ever-helpful campground owner) that I try a different back-in site. This one was on the other side of the pond, so I had to navigate the turn at the entrance and the narrow passage between the office and the garage. It was the turn at the entrance that did me in. There is a tree there that leans into the roadway. I was very aware of it and was concerned by the proximity as I started the turn. But it was on the outside, so it wasn’t in the way, really. Except that I underestimated how far the back swings out on a tight corner. I was going slow and barely clipped it, but it was enough to snap off the plastic end cap. I also knocked off a sign that was screwed into the tree.

Nancy was apologetic, saying she should have been watching that side more closely. But it was 100% my fault. I need to watch that swing-out.

Jett wasn’t upset at all. She rated my driving at 9.5. Other than that incident, I would agree.

But I still feel bad about dropping the baby.

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Madison, WI

Posted on September 9, 2012 by Sparky

I was born and raised in Madison, Wisconsin. I attended grade school there. I graduated from high school there (Robert M. LaFollette Sr. Junior/Senior High School – say it a few times). I played Little League there. I attended church there. I ran around the neighborhood, unfettered by rules (but with the knowledge that I would get my butt reddened by my father’s firm hand if I got into trouble) there. It was a great place to grow up. Little crime, lots of white collar and blue collar jobs, clean lakes for recreation, a zoo and lots of heat in the summer and snow in the winter.

I thought it was the most boring place on earth.

I dreamed of African safaris, arctic expeditions, long road trips (yup, I am finally realizing my dream), ocean beaches. Anything, anywhere. Just not Madison, Wisconsin. Boring.

How things change! In the 45 years since leaving Madison I have grown to fully appreciate it. I now view it as one of the most interesting places on the planet. Sure, the Left Bank of the Seine is great and who wouldn’t want to see the Alps or partake in all that Manhattan has to offer? But State Street in Madison is a kick and holds its own against world-class competition. Have a beer and a brat on the patio at the Brathaus and watch the wacky world wander by. It is a fine way to spend an hour or two in the summer.

I mention this not because it is a destination on our current RV itinerary but because I just returned from a weekend there. The occasion was my 45th high school reunion and both the city and the class were looking good. It was our biggest reunion ever, thanks to the tireless efforts of Nancy Tyler-Albers and her dedicated cohorts. I was a little skeptical when I first received the invitation that informed me that the Friday night meet-and-greet would be held at a bowling alley. But in retrospect, what says “Wisconsin” better than a bowling alley? Complement the location with some fine local microbrew beer (Spotted Cow) and all that is missing is some cheesehead hats, the Packers on the telly and some brats on the grille.

When I first walked into the function room I didn’t recognize anyone other than Nancy, who was manning the name badge station. The planning committee had thoughtfully affixed our high school yearbook photo to our badge, to give a visual aid in case we no longer could place the face. After walking around the room a bit, I was convinced that there were a bunch of interlopers in attendance as I recognized nearly no face or name. But then some people started arriving that I actually remembered. Margaret Rortvedt and her husband Jim Boerke, both looking like they did in high school. Paul Kendall and Steve Rounds, who both seemingly hadn’t aged a day, Reverend Gary Black (yes, the Reverend Mr. Black), the senior class president, who was also looking very well-maintained. George Kamperschroer (I hope I got that right – it is a hell of a name to spell) who was looking very much like the successful lawyer that he is (and, I believe, the only lawyer in our class of 350+, which is a credit to the class, I think). Linda Thielke who was looking as lovely as ever, despite having lost her mother just a few weeks before. Jim Tomlin and Bob Blumerich, two buddies that I chummed around with in 7th and 8th grade and with whom I engaged in some memorable incendiary pursuits – most notably constructing a cannon which we used to fire a cats-eye marble through the side of my garage. Finally, my best high school friend David Benjamin (Benjie or Benj to his friends), who is no longer the skinny kid he was in high school, but was looking very distinguished with his slightly portly frame and full white beard. He looked a bit like Ernest Hemingway, which is appropriate as both are published authors. He brought his lovely wife, Junko, who is far and away my favorite spouse in the group.

It was a fine evening.

On Saturday morning I had to forgo an opportunity to see my high school sweetheart, Jill Ramsfield, to carry through on my commitment to a round of golf. I didn’t know she would be in Madison that weekend. After all she lives in Hawaii and it wasn’t her reunion – she Class of ’68. But she was in town and was having brunch with Benj – an event which he invited me to on Friday night. I was tempted, for sure, but a commitment is a commitment, so I played golf instead. Besides, I hadn’t played a round of golf in over two years, so it had its own appeal.

I shared a cart with Craig Howard, another guy that I little or no contact with in high school. But he turned out to be a fine golfing companion and it was a beautiful day to hack up a course, so it was a lot of fun. Our foursome was completed by Patty Jacobson – a woman who I believe I first met in kindergarten – and her husband Gene. Patty had worked in a golf pro shop for 9 years, so she smoked our asses by shooting an 82. I don’t know what I shot as I let Craig keep score, but I had 3 pars in the round (including two back-to-back – something I haven’t done in 10 years, I think), so it wasn’t completely embarrassing. But I will never make a living on the Senior Tour.

Midway through the round Patty told Craig and me that Gene – who I thought was about the same age as the rest of us – was 17 years older than she, which would put him north of 80. I just about fell over. I sure hope I look as good as he does at that age. And maybe play golf as well? Please, God?

The Saturday night buffet was at the same golf course, in keeping with the sports theme of the weekend. The food was great, the music – provided by Kathy Parisi and her husband – was age-appropriate and many people who hadn’t been in attendance Friday night made an appearance. Some highlights were seeing Nancy Myer and Cathy Oliver – two of the nicest high school cheerleaders you could ever hope to meet, Patty Brill and her husband Oren, who are always fun, Jeri Mather who I don’t think I have seen in over 40 years.

Kathy Parisi sang “Those Were the Days, My Friend” which she claims was the most popular song of 1967 and was a great song to resurrect for the reunion. Kathy could sing? Who knew? She has a beautiful voice, which, to the best of my knowledge, she did not reveal in high school.

At the end of the evening Junko handed me her cell phone and invited me to speak to Alice Twombly, my freshman year civics teacher and, as it turns out, the best teacher I had in those high school years. I had not seen her since she attended our tenth year class reunion back in 1977, despite the fact that Benj saw her frequently (they both live in the New York area). It was great to talk to her again. She wanted to meet with Jett and me when she came up to Boston this month, but unfortunately we will have vacated MA by the time she arrives.

All in all, another fine evening.

The weekend ended with a small brunch at Benj and Junko’s condo very near The Square, the elevated couple of acres that marks the center of Madison and on which the state capitol – arguably the most beautiful state capitol building anywhere – is situated. I had a little extra time that morning and it was a beautiful day, so I wandered around the city taking some photos. The Square was closed to traffic – for some kind of street fair it appeared – but as I was returning from my photo walkabout I ran smack dab into the middle of a Gay Pride parade. As I said, Madison is never dull. I can’t imagine why I found it boring when I was a kid.

I only had an hour at the brunch as I had to hotfoot it back to Chicago for my flight home. But I got to catch up just a bit with Benj’s sister Peg (Class of ’65), Oren and Patty and Ann Skowronek, the class kook who is currently waging war against electronic emissions from electric meters.

Some of my Sunday morning photos: