The Enchanted Emerald Lake

Emerald Lake State Park was my first stop after leaving New York. Located in the Valley of Vermont, between the Green Mountain Range and the Taconic Mountain Range, it was quite a contrast to the iron and glass "mountains and valleys" of Manhattan.

Emerald Lake was a pleasant discovery and an excellent introduction to Vermont's state park system. On the morning after my arrival, I packed a portable breakfast and went out at dawn to explore the park. The campsites were on a steep, heavily-wooded ridge above an enchanted lake. The trail from the campground led me down to the beaver ponds along Otter Creek, at the base of Emerald Lake. There, I found a comfortable rock, within sight of a beaver's lodge, to sit on while eating my breakfast. While munching on a banana, a young mink stopped to check me out. He probable stared at me for a full 30-seconds before disappearing into the rushes. Later, that morning, I saw a little orange newt sunning himself in the middle of the trail.

The lake, also added a magical feeling to the morning. The nearly mirror smooth waters reflected the early autumn colors and made the reflections of the water lilies look like a French Impressionist painting. I felt the lake inviting me to stay, but...the call of the open road was louder.

Not My Typical Roadtrip

On a typical roadtrip, I like to get as far away from "civilization" as possible. The more remote the campsite, the fewer the people, the wilder the country, the better. Boy, did I make a wrong turn somewhere! This latest trip included a week-long stay with my son in New York City. I'm not saying I didn't have a great visit, because I did, I'm just saying this was not a typical roadtrip.

Van does not like the city so he was happy to stay in the driveway of good friends of ours in Katonah, about an hour north of NYC. The Stanleys have been friends of my parents since I was just a few weeks old, when my father was in the army, stationed in Oklahoma. They have a beautiful home in a beautiful little town where they very graciously offered me both a place to leave Van, but also, a cozy room and great company to return to after my city visit. They gave me rides to and from the train station, which I used to get in to the city.

Dan, my son, met my train at Grand Central Station. He taught me how to purchase and use a MetroCard, an essential to traveling the subway system, then we rode back to his apartment in Queens. He and his fiancee, Caitlin, live in a great eleventh-floor apartment with excellent views of the Queensborough Bridge, the Empire State Building, the Chrysler Building and a tiny bit of the East River.

My previous visits to NYC have been rather structured and supervised; I almost always traveled with someone who knew what they were doing and where they were going. This trip was different; Caitlin was out in California on a business trip and Dan was working long hours. Although we did a little sightseeing together, notably, a trip to a Staten Island tapas restaurant, most of our visiting was in his apartment before or after he went to work.

When Dan was at work, I was on my own. I wandered around the city, sometimes with a destination in mind, other times just to walk and explore. I bought groceries and brought them home on the subway. Don't laugh, I've lived all over the world, but this was a first for me. I spent a lot of time sitting on park benches, watching people and eating food from street vendors. I explored the main library and Central Park. I shopped, both for real and window-shopping, and basically, just did whatever I wanted when I wanted. It was an extremely relaxing way to visit an anything but relaxing, city.

One of my favorite activities was taking photos of the changing cityscape from the balcony of the apartment. I watched the sun rise and set over the city and watched fronts move in and out, including one which brought a tornado with it. On the anniversary of 9-11, I saw the lights on the Empire State Building change to red, white and blue, and the twin beams of light shining from Ground Zero.

I experienced the crush of the crowds, heard the constant noise of the trains and traffic, saw the towering buildings and bridges, and everywhere, saw nature. Most of what I saw just hinted at people's craving for the natural world, such as roof-top gardens and the elaborate green space of Central Park. Other nature sightings, such as the wild turkey wandering in a children's playground near the Staten Island ferries and the hawks soaring in the thermals above the buildings, spoke of the ability of wild things to adapt to human surroundings.

Most impressively though, were the great rivers surrounding the city and the skies above. The rivers travel past the same shores as they have been since before there ever was a city or people to give them names. The skies, with their roaring winds and thunder and beautiful bolts of lightning flashing from building top to building top, showed me how small even our greatest city is. No matter how intelligent or important we think we are, no matter how great our civilizations may be, compared to the powers of nature, we are insignificant. In the end, nature always wins.

Erie Entertainment

Growing up in Michigan, the natural feature dominating my life has been the Great Lakes. One of the first things a Michigan child learns in school is HOMES, the acronym for remembering the names of all the Great Lakes, (Huron, Ontario, Michigan, Erie, Superior). Lake Superior was the biggest, the coldest and by its name, of course, the best. Lake Michigan was where you went if you wanted sand dunes, big waves and warm water. Lake Huron's shore was quieter, its water colder and that's where you went to watch the sunrise. Lake Ontario was somewhere off in Canada, and then there was Lake Erie. The smallest and shallowest of the Great Lakes, the one with the creepy name, Lake Erie got no respect.

As a kid I always thought of Lake Erie as the place where the bodies of people who had drowned in Lake St. Clair or the Detroit River would eventually resurface.

Recently, my opinion of Lake Erie has changed. After leaving Stratford, Ontario, I camped at Lake Erie State Park, in Brocton, New York. The campground was on a high bluff above a beautiful crescent shaped beach. The sandy beach had large rocks which provided perfect spots for viewing the water. As a former Michigan kid, what I was viewing was totally mind-blowing. I was watching the sun "set" into Lake Erie...a Michigan impossibility!

The sunset was beautiful and a lively wind created some nice sized waves. After a while a friendly dog showed up to play in the waves providing me with my evening's entertainment. That night as I was drifting off to sleep I was left with two thoughts: 1. I hope the owners of that wet, sandy dog weren't sharing a tent with him, and, 2. Just where do those dead bodies resurface?

The Play's Not Always The Thing

The first stop on my latest roadtrip was Stratford, Ontario. My sister and her family, and I shared a bed and breakfast, leaving poor little Van sitting neglected by the curb. My family and I have been enjoying the plays at Stratford since I was a kid. When we first visited, my parents would pull their motorhome into a vacant lot where we'd stay for the weekend. We'd change into our best clothes, then hike up the hill to the Festival Theatre for our yearly thespian treat. When we first visited, the only plays being presented were by Shakespeare. Attending one of the performances was quite an occasion; everyone dressed up and the women often wore long gowns. These days the atmosphere is more casual and the repertoire has expanded.

This year we saw two matinees, The Tempest and Peter Pan, and a musical, Kiss Me Kate, in the evening. If I were asked to choose a favorite, I'd have to say each one was unique and pleasure to watch. I enjoyed them all.

Although I love seeing the plays, they're not the only thing I love about Stratford. The town is full of beautiful parks and natural areas. You can spend an entire day walking up and down the Avon river, exploring the gardens, paths and walks. I love watching the waterfowl on and around the river, under the ancient willows. Stratford is the place to go when both your mind and your spirit need refreshing.

Yes, I Am A Travel Addict

Well, I've been home for a about a month, so it's time for another roadtrip. Anyone who likes to wander will recognize the symptoms of travel deficiency. First, there's a growing restlessness, intensified when reading travel magazines or watching the travel channel. Next, you'll notice yourself day-dreaming, accompanied by copious sighing during routine tasks at home or at work.

You'll pull out maps and markers to highlight interesting routes and destinations. Perhaps you'll hide your actions from those around you who don't share your travel addiction. When you start checking your bank accounts and making packing lists you know it's too late; you've succumbed to the sickness.

There is no cure. Travel is the only treatment.

Drying Out

One of my favorite overnight stops on the Erie Canal bike tour was at Syracuse, NY. We stayed in a city park with access to a pool and dinner at the zoo. But, the activity I enjoyed best was walking around tent city, taking pictures of the ingenious ways people found to dry out after the previous night's rain.

Cycling The Erie Canal

In case you're worried that I'm lost somewhere in a southwestern canyon and you're about to send out a search party, I should let you know, you're looking in the wrong direction. For the last week or so I've been exploring the northeast. I've been traveling with a biker gang. Not motorcyclists, but a group of about 500 bicyclists traveling over 400 miles from Buffalo to Albany, New York along the Erie Canal.

Now, don't get me wrong. I am not a biker. I own a bike, but it's been sitting neglected in my basement for several years. It's more of a clothes rack than a mode of transportation. I like to drive, walk and hike. Biking...not so much.

My sister, Kay, likes to bike. Every year she finds a multi-day, cross-country trip to join. This year she was tired of setting up a tent after a long day of biking, so she recruited me to be her personal "sag" driver. I transported her luggage and bike, drove her to and from the ride, and provided a cozy place to sleep at night. In exchange, I participated in all the fun tour activities, met a lot of interesting people, had plenty of time to take pictures and learn about early American history, and of course, had a chance to enjoy my sister's fine company.