Category Archives: personal reflection

Goodbye, Dear Penny

Last night, assisted by Doctor Erika, we said goodbye to Penny, our wonderful traveling companion. She had hiked her last hike with me last week and after nearly 14 years of high energy living, ran out of gas. She crossed the country seven times, had a long life list of critters (alligators, armadillos, javelinas, road-runners, coots, gallinules, to name a few), and as a rescue dog, was very much “a piece of work.” Well-loved by all” is not an exaggeration.

Here is a little photo tribute to this great dog, who we will miss deeply.

Penny loved a good run….

and nap on chairs and couches

She took up a lot of space in my Luscombe but enjoyed flying.

and she was a great traveling companion.

Caminos felices, mi maravillosa amiga

Avian Flash Mob

Grabbing some lunch at the kitchen counter today, I noticed a bird silhouetted in the apple tree. I retrieved the camera from the car, took a shot with no clue as to what I was seeing.

 

Mystery bird

Mystery bird

It was only a few seconds before a second one, an Eastern Bluebird, landed by the garden and suddenly, there were about ten more. The bird feeder is in due to a recent bear visit and the pickings are rather slim and they were off in less than a minute. Here’s one of them:

Eastern Bluebird on the way south.

Eastern Bluebird on the way south.

It’s little gifts like this that make being out in nature, or just aware of my natural surroundings, that boost spirits on a grey October day. It’s delightful and they are also an addition to my yard list. Amigos felices del vuelos

Southern Tier Nostalgia

As usually happens on a long trip, I was up at two, then at four for real, and on the road at 6 AM. I recalled trudging down an icy driveway in the dark with Mary on our last trip – we had parked the rig at the bottom due to snow and ice. Today’s launch was rather easy relative to that. As we’d say in Navy flying, “kick the tire, light the fire.”

Penny and I took our first break at the Fair Haven rest area where this selfie documented my last time in Vermont for a while.

I had been watching the forecasts which called for severe thunderstorms on our route. I considered taking a higher route – the Thruway – but decided to wait a while to decide and then stayed with our original plans.

Getting out of Vermont was easy and the weather and scenery was perfect. The lightly-traveled I-88 was likewise pretty uneventful aside from a lot of one-lane stretches for construction.

Then I got into the westbound flow of Route 17 and memories flowed. The Blue Dolphin diner in Endicott, owe go where Mary was ordained deacon and then priest. The failed race track that is now a casino. The Exit 61 sign for Waverly/Sayre which we took many a time. I thought I could see our old house – probably the nicest we ever had – up on the hill overlooking town.

Then west of Waverly, the highway slides in Pennsylvania for a tiny distance and I recalled paddling both the Chemung and Susquehanna rivers in my canoe racing days.

About Elmira, the rain hit pretty heavy. I had stopped earlier to check the radar and knew that it was likely a short stretch, and so it was. Of course, I’m still learning the van systems and had quite a time finding out how to defog the windshield.

This part of the trip reminded me of the long drive Mary would make each week to finish seminary in Rochester. And as I passed the sign for Elmira Heights, I remembered how the church there stiffed her for the required contributions to the church pension fund and essentially just said “tough luck” afterward. And they’ll know that we are Christians by our love…..

We stopped mid-afternoon, after nine and a half hours enroute, at a big state park near Salamanca called Allegheny State Park. It was 80 degrees and muggy so I opted for an electric site and we have been running the air. The place has a number of families with young children and most are in tents. We are getting a shower as I write and kids are still riding the camp road on their bikes. Well, it’s really coming down now. I feel a bit smug, and snug, in my rig.

Penny and I took a nice walk before supper, hearing and seeing lots of warblers. Lots of redstarts and yellow warblers. I watched a song sparrow use the little brook as his personal bird bath.

Here’s Penny admiring the pretty lake.

Tomorrow is about six hours to Rich and Lydda’s – I’m really looking forward to seeing them.

Some Thoughts About Driving – While Driving

I drove about five hours on I-10 from Beaumont, Texas across most of Louisiana, including an 18-mile (29 km) stretch of elevated highway between Lafayette and Baton Rouge known as the Atchafalaya Swamp Freeway, as it goes over the Atchafalaya River, across the Atchafalaya Basin Bridge, and the adjacent swamps. It crosses the Mississippi River at the Horace Wilkinson Bridge. I learned once again, as each passing tractor trailer pulled the Airstream toward it, how much I dislike interstate driving.

The speed limit in Texas is 75 and in Louisiana it is 70 and that seems like a suggestion. I drive about 68 or so, even though that kills gas mileage, because to run much slower is an invitation for problems. Truckers, like all drivers, come in many flavors and some are just crappy at driving. Turn signals are for the weak, speed consistency is boring, and boring down behind slower vehicles, like that shiny Airstream, puts some spice in a long haul.

So I got thinking about this – and having driven across the country and halfway back, I decided to stop whining about truck traffic and point out some things we like, or dislike.

Mary and I find it interesting that the billboards for adult stores start as you hit the Bible Belt and continue throughout the South and Southwest. Billboards are obnoxious, as are wind farms, but they seem more acceptable in someone else’s backyard. We have apps for gas stations but billboards help us make our fuel stops.

Most gas stations, even truck stops, are tough when you pull a trailer. The diesel folks have all sorts of room but we have to fold in with the cars, often making either the entrance or exit adrenaline-producing. Love’s, Truck Stops of America, Flying J, Pilot are all focused on truckers and RV’s are just tolerated. That’s one reason our favorite stops are Buc-ees: there’s room, they don’t cater to 18-wheelers, and they are immaculate. They are a Texas outfit and use clever Burma-Shave type billboards to lure you in.

The speed limits in the West are insane – we’ve seen 80 mph on some parts of I-8. Even a narrow two-lane road with no shoulders often has a 70 mph limit – to me 50 is pushing it. Some of the interstate has direct access from dirt roads and driveways, and it is not unusual to see walkers or cyclists legally using it.

The worst drivers I encountered was on Highway 83 in the "Valley" of Texas where merging and passing on the right is an art form. A close second is Highway 5 out of San Diego where guys in white pickup trucks seem to have a driving death wish.

One of the fun aspects of travel for me is to see how communities handle their water tanks. In New England, we often hide them or partially bury them but elsewhere, there are lovely murals, descriptions of the local football team, or just the community’s name.


My favorite, which I always look for as we approach Marion, VA on I-81 is this pair.

One of the big changes we’ve seen this trip is the impact of fracking. We drive by miles of oil firms, each with their collection of RV’s set up with wifi and cable TV for workers, and get chased by oil trucks just barrelling (pardon the pun) along on once-quiet secondary roads. The piping, the smell, the massive containment ponds, the flares of gas all are ugly. And talk about euphemisms in signage – of course you never see the word fracking – it’s more like Southwest Energy Services.

Yet, I can’t help but consider our energy footprint as we fill the big gas tank day after day. At least we are offsetting some by longer stays in places and by using much less fuel oil at home. Lots to ponder on the last 1700 miles of the journey.

On Turning 70

One of the reasons for this Southwest adventure was to celebrate the fact that we were both turning 70 this year — and sure enough, like clockwork, I did so on March 9th. (MRM has months & months to go.) It was a wonderful day — perhaps the best we’ve had climate-wise and relaxation-wise.

We’re at the Sam Houston National Forest, about 40 miles north of Houston, surrounded by tall pine trees. After the onslaught of kids last weekend at our last site, it’s nice to have peace and quiet and few campers. We leave tomorrow for a couple of state parks in Louisiana as we start the trek northeastward.

Frankly, I’m still a bit surprised to be seventy. I remember years ago in Syracuse, when I was doing a lot of road racing in my early forties, knowing some of the “ old farts” who plodded along toward the end of the pack. I admired them, wrote a couple of magazine articles about one of them — and now find that I’m one of them. It is a new age group — always one perk of turning a new decade for runners, skiers, paddlers, etc.

I got a nice early birthday present here: I added the red-cockaded woodpecker, an endangered bird, to my life list. This forest is one of a few in the south that supports this bird, which needs specially-managed pine habitats to survive. They nest in living pine trees and are rather rare. I knew they were around here, but scarce — and was advised that early morning and dusk were the best times to try to see them.

There’s a place with some known nests about a mile from here so I went up on Monday night to take a look. It was showery and I had the Vizsla with me — not exactly great birding conditions. After spending some time traipsing around and dodging showers, and seeing nothing, I decided to try a bird call from my iPhone. (I don’t like to do this because I’ve heard that it can confuse the birds but thought — this is probably the only time I’ll be here…) Well, no sooner had I played the call from the iBird app when two woodpeckers repeated it. I was astounded — and saw one fly by and then saw another one land on a pine tree not far away. I got a great look — the bird is sort of like a downy woodpecker without the white on the back. It matched the drawings I’d studied and of course, the call was also the same. I was psyched. I’d stepped on the dog’s leash and she was patient as I watched the woodpecker for 10 minutes or more.

My birthday started, as most of our days do, early. We had coffee and yogurt in our separate beds reading email, blogs, and news feeds on our iPhones. (I wonder how many 70-year-olds start their day that way — perhaps more than we think.)

I took Penny for a nice walk on the woods loop where she can run freely and then decided to take a birthday run. I wanted to do 7 miles for 70 but since I haven’t been running much this trip, opted for an hour. It wasn’t pretty but felt pretty good — and a nice start to the day.

Our daughter Jen, unbeknownst to me, had arranged an email blitz and I got many emails and Facebook greetings. Several cellphone calls and messages and a text message or two. It was great hearing from folks and it made me realize once again why the Post Office is losing money. One package (which was wonderful) and one note but the rest all electronic.

We had an easy day, enjoying the wonderful weather, and opted to cook out rather than drive 20 miles to a restaurant. (Mary took me for a birthday lunch — which was delightful — the next day.)

It’s wonderful to celebrate this milestone with Mary, my friend and partner … and Penny, who with her constant need for exercise and attention, keeps me moving.