Ode to the States

I'm not really a patriotic sort of person. To me, the Fourth of July means a day off from work and a lot of Twilight Zone. I didn't wear red, white, and blue today and I skipped the end of the fireworks because I wanted to get back to the Twilight Zone. I don't really like fireworks anyway. But I was thinking about what I could do, blog-style, in honor of today. After all, I have a travel blog and I've visited a lot of places in the United States. So I thought I might share a quick memory about all the states I've visited (plus DC) rather than saying "Yay America" or getting all political. I really just mean a I'll write a sentence or two about a particular memory or place, something quick. And random because in some cases I have lots of great memories. Lest you think I'm partial to my own country, I promise to post something nice about France in ten days. I also may make posts like this a regular feature in an effort to post more. I keep coming up with those though my ideas never really seem to work. Worth a shot, I guess. So here goes, alphabetical order, and I'm doing this in stages. DC is last, just cause. I will be skipping Alaska and Hawaii since I haven't visited either. Ditto for all those other places around the world.

Alabama: Driving along I-10 right on the coast. The road is often causeway-ish and the openness with the water is beautiful (well it was, don't know how it looks now, sadly).

Arizona: The Grand Canyon, misty in the August rain. I was cold and wearing a very large t-shirt--long sleeves on a six year old--because the gift shop didn't sell sweatshirts.

Arkansas: Getting amazingly dirty at Crater of Diamonds State Park. It was hot and muddy and so much fun. I still have the rocks though, sadly, no diamonds.

California: Panning for gold/taking a tour of a gold mine. The drive to the mine entrance was terrifying and I really think we almost went off a cliff. Obviously we didn't.

Colorado: Exploring the cliff dwellings at Mesa Verde. Ladders were involved as were steep cliffs, both of which I'm very afraid of. Worth it.

Connecticut: Visiting friends who used to live there. Boring, huh?

Delaware: I remember a very clean bathroom at a rest stop somewhere. Sorry Delaware.

Florida: Wakulla Springs with its alligators, manatees, and lush canopies of trees. Snakes too, but I don't much like them. Cool, refreshing, and beautiful, worlds away from Disney. Not that I don't love Disney... it was a toss-up between this and the original Figment ride at Epcot.

Georgia: Southeastern Georgia is so flat and open it can be a little eerie. During a thunderstorm, I mean. Streaks of lightning light up the purple sky. Driving through that was both scary and incredible.

Idaho: Nice train tracks, very straight and even. I assume, as the train did not derail.

Illinois: The Art Institute of Chicago. Great museum, somewhere I still have a Degas print from their gift shop.

Indiana: The shore along Lake Michigan; the Great Lakes are incredible.

Iowa: Prairie Lights, great independent bookstore right in Iowa City. If you find yourself there, don't miss it!

Kansas: Fields and fields of sunflowers. Words don't do it justice, neither does the picture:

Okay, I'm done for now. I know this was pretty pathetic but, believe it or not, it kinda helps me organize thoughts. So there you have it. The rest to come.

I Could Live There, Thousand Islands-Style

It's finally time for the second post on houses I want to live in. Rules/background on this here. In a nutshell, I post about really cool houses. The two featured in this post are quite near each other; both are in the Thousand Islands, a region once known as a major summer destination for very rich people. I suppose a little background on the Thousand Islands--where the salad dressing was invented*--might be appropriate. So.

The Thousand Islands region is in the St. Lawrence River, between New York and Ontario. There are actually way more than one thousand islands there, the number is closer to 1,800. The region is technically an archipelago, stretching for about fifty miles. Some of the islands are protected or parks, many contain homes, and one is even owned by Skull and Bones. Since we're talking about a river here, boats have always been pretty important. A lot of shipping occurs through the St. Lawrence though shoals (basically (mostly?) underwater islands that don't count as islands) make that a little difficult which means there are a lot of shipwrecks around. A more fun boat fact is that a lot of alcohol was smuggled over the border from Canada to the US during Prohibition. Enough?

Although the area is not too far from my home, I had only been to the Thousand Islands once, on a family trip to Toronto, and we just drove through without stopping. This summer, I decided it was time for me to finally go back and actually see the place. I had wanted to visit the area for a long time because I really wanted to see Boldt Castle, number one on the houses list:

1. Boldt Castle, Heart Island

If you're not familiar with Boldt Castle, it's an unfinished mansion located on Heart Island (originally spelled "Hart") which, thanks to George Boldt who owned the island and had the home built, actually is somewhat heart-shaped. In fact, the whole island and the house incorporate a heart theme, perhaps appropriately since George Boldt had the home built as a gift for his beloved wife, Louise. Sadly, four years after construction on the house began, Louise died. George was so grief-stricken, he immediately ordered that all work on the Castle be stopped and he never set foot there again.




Unfinished, the building lay in disrepair for many years (along with other buildings on the island) until it was acquired by the Thousand Islands Bridge Authority in 1977. In the following decades, a lot of work has been done to restore the Castle and it has seen many visitors. There are, however, a few conditions regarding the building. One is that it can never be finished. Another is that no one may ever spend the night inside the Castle because George and Louise never did and (supposedly) no one ever has. The cynic in me thinks that condition's a little unlikely since the structure did just sit there for about seventy years. Plus, I have to wonder if maybe that condition might be revoked in the event of some kind of disaster.



On to the building itself. Since Boldt Castle is on an island, the logical way to reach it is by boat. It's very close to the mainland; you can see the building from Alexandria Bay, the mainland NY "gateway" to the Thousand Islands region. There is a small replica of the Arc de Triomphe (with, I think, deer on top) through which visitors were initially expected to pass in order to reach the island. The arch was never used during the Boldts' lifetimes and so it has not been used since. Visitors now approach from the side.






One of the most impressive features of the building is the beautiful glass, domed ceiling that dominates the main entryway. I think the ceiling is about six stories high and, walking up the grand staircase through the center of the building, it's hard not to look up. Rooms and hallways are built around the open center of the building, many offering glimpses of what life might've been like for the very rich in the early twentieth century. This is done both through furnishings in the style of the time and through background information and artifacts of the Boldt family. The result is an interesting mix of historical home and museum.




Even more of an interesting mix results from the various stages of completion of the house's rooms. It seemed to me that the higher up one goes, the worse the rooms look. Much of the building is not restored and, presumably, some of it never will be. It's very strange to see a perfectly painted and furnished room followed by a room with boards everywhere and graffiti all over the walls.






Heart Island also has very impressive grounds. There are other buildings on the island including a funny-looking tower where the Boldt family actually did live while on the island. Unfortunately, it wasn't open so I couldn't go inside. I did walk around, though, visiting the gardens and other island buildings:





Pictured above is the Power House, meant to supply the island with power, which is now a museum. It also isn't exactly original; the building had a bit of a run-in with some fireworks with rather disastrous results. A nearby island contains the Boldt Yacht House, that's apparently very impressive though I wouldn't know. I had hoped to go there but it had started to rain and it was getting kind of late. Next visit.




2. Singer Castle, Dark Island



When I first decided to visit the Thousand Islands, as I said, I really wanted to visit Boldt Castle. I had never even heard of the less well-known Singer Castle. Reading about the boat trips around the region, I found one that went to "Singer Castle on Dark Island" and knew that I absolutely had to take it. How could I not? And I'm so glad I did as it turned out to be the highlight of my trip.


Singer Castle was built during the late 19th/early 20th century for Frederick Bourne, then president of the Singer Company, you know, the one that makes sewing machines. Hence the name Singer Castle. As in other homes both in the Thousand Islands and elsewhere (Newport, Rhode Island comes to mind), Singer Castle was originally and often referred to as a cottage. I wonder what that makes my studio apartment.




The castle's architect, Ernest Flagg, based plans for the castle on Sir Walter Scott's book, Woodstock. The result is a bizarre but amazing building with secret passages, tunnels, and even a dungeon which was not, as the tour guides joke, for punishing Bourne's children.



Another interesting fact about Singer Castle is that, although it's in the United States, it is literally just over the border. In fact, Bourne's daughter Marjorie (who owned the castle after the death of her father) kept her wine on a nearby Canadian island. Pretty ingenious considering that was during Prohibition.





Unlike Boldt Castle, Singer Castle has been cared for continuously since it was built. As a result, the whole building is furnished and in good condition, as though people still live there. In fact, the building can actually, in a way, be lived in. It's possible to book the Castle as though it were a hotel and, so they say, basically get the run of the place. I'm rather desperate to do that! As interesting as the tour/main visit was, it was only possible to see some of the passages and "secrets" built into the home.

Well, that's it for now. I do have quite a few more pictures of both "castles" but, as always, posting pictures can be a bit of a pain. If there's another (better) way to post pictures with Blogger, I'd love to hear about it

*Wikipedia doesn't necessarily think the dressing was invented in the Thousand Islands. But who cares what Wikipedia thinks?

Trapped at Yosemite

When I began this little blog thing almost a year ago, I had a few particular memories I wanted to include. The following is one of them; it's one of my most vivid travel memories which is kind of amazing considering it's from twenty years ago, almost exactly. I've been thinking about this post and writing it in my mind (posts always sound better there) for just about a year now so I'm feeling just a little pressure to do this thing justice. Wish me luck? Here goes:

Wait, stop. Before I actually begin, I have to make a few things clear. 1. I was six when this happened. If the writing sounds like someone who's six, that's why. 2. Since I was six, I may not remember every little detail exactly as it happened. I think most of it's pretty close (if not totally accurate) but if it isn't, I'm sorry. I tried. 3. The pictures are scans of slides, hence the not-so-good quality. Also, some may be backwards. Also, some may not be Yosemite. Again, um, I tried. 4. Due to a request from my brother, this post has been edited.

From the time I was six until I was about fourteen, my family took a two-week vacation every summer. Our first trip, twenty years ago this August, was to California and Nevada with a quick side trip to the Grand Canyon. One of the places we visited early in the trip was Yosemite National Park, an area of almost 1,200 square miles in the Sierra Nevada in California. My family didn't actually plan to stay in the park but in the nearby town of El Portal (funny that I should remember the name of the town); we drove into the park each day taking in famous sites like Yosemite Falls--but wait, I'll get to that. We'd return to our motel each evening to go swimming and eat dinner: I actually remember eating chicken fingers. Twenty years ago. So far, basically your average family vacation.


At the time of our visit, Yosemite was 1. very dry and 2. plagued by forest fires. In regard to how dry it was, I remember in particular visiting, as mentioned above, Yosemite Falls. In order to show what Yosemite Falls usually looks like, I would have to borrow a picture from some website. So, um, try Google. There are tons.



I think that's a stream. Now read the next paragraph. Please.

For me, walking to the falls involved walking by an almost dry stream bed and crossing a bridge with little water flowing beneath it. Close to the falls, signs offered warnings such as, "Beware: Dangerous Waterfall" (or, uh, something like that) and other similar words of caution. I remember that approach clearly, even seeing that rocky, dry terrain in my mind, right up to viewing that powerful, gushing waterfall.

See the waterfall? It's backwards, I think. On the left (should be right?)


Except that last part never happened. My short, six year-old self looked up, and up, and up, hoping to see the terrific force of nature of a thundering waterfall and instead seeing a small stream of water falling lazily over a rock. But the point of this post is not Yosemite Falls or even the lack of it. No, what I remember most about Yosemite involves the fires.


By reading about the 1990 fires at Yosemite I've learned that, as a park visitor, I was never in any actual danger. I wish someone had told me that then. Views of the park's famous mountains and valleys that summer often included an unexpected sight: there were apparently several large fires in addition to many smaller ones that announced their location with plumes of gray smoke. Although the fires were very real and obvious, the didn't ruin our trip. *In fact, my brother noticed and reported a fire which was a great thing to do and a definite positive memory. Way to go, my brother!* (Ah, that sounds silly. Oh well.)

I don't remember how many days we spent in Yosemite but I do remember driving in each morning and out each night, spending the days in a nature center and walking along trails. Well, that's how it was until our final (planned) day there. I think that last day was really only supposed to be half a day. In fact, my parents debated whether or not to go in that day at all. They decided that since we were there, we might as well make the most of it and go. Maybe that was a mistake.


I think my brother and I attended some kind of children's nature program that day. I know I spent some time coloring, only going out of the lines twice! In my (possibly not accurate) memory, that's where I was when I heard the news: all roads in and out of the park had been closed. All the people inside the park were stuck there.


What happened next is slightly blurry in my memory. I know my family split up; I went with my father to try to arrange some cot-sleeping situation for the night while my brother went with my mother with the hope of getting a room at The Ahwahnee Hotel*. More on that later.


Although I was an impatient six year-old at the time, I don't really remember the waiting that must have come next. Instead, my memory jumps forward to my father discussing some sort of lodging arrangement (I think cots, emergency style, or so I've been told) with someone official. It was at that moment that my brother ran up to us and told us not to bother with that: we had gotten a room at The Ahwahnee.


The Ahwahnee, in case you're not familiar with it, is Yosemite's very luxurious, very expensive hotel. Back then, rooms were about $200 per night (now they're about $500) which was, well, slightly more money and slightly more luxury than a family that often stayed at the Holiday Inn was used to. I think the available rooms were due to cancellations and, although staying there wasn't exactly the greatest experience ever, we were lucky to get the room. I just learned that the room-getting situation was a bit more complicated than that and made possible by a helpful stranger. Thanks, stranger, twenty years later.

Once again, my memory jumps forward a bit. Suddenly it was dinnertime and our option was the hotel's fancy restaurant. Thinking about it years later, I realize the restaurant's patrons probably weren't wearing tuxedos and ball gowns and we probably weren't the only family wearing jeans and t-shirts. And yet, I remember feeling awfully out of place--not to mention grubby--walking into that dining room.

Other than that, dinner is mostly a blur as is the evening. What I do remember is that there was a fruit basket in the room; I'd never seen that before (or since?) and, I don't know, I may have thought it was, like, for decoration or something. It wasn't. In my memory, that night didn't involve much sleep. For one thing, I was just a bit scared (I'm the scaredest of scaredy-cats) and I know I wasn't the only one.

As I mentioned before, the fires were numerous and I really didn't know that the people in the park weren't in any danger. At that point, I think I had only seen smoke and ash but there had been plenty. And we were literally stuck inside the park which made the whole fire situation seem even more dire. Additionally, we had seen the fires on TV which certainly didn't make being stuck in the park more pleasant!

When we went to bed that night, we didn't know how long we'd be stuck in the park. At about 6 the next morning, the phone rang and we found out: the park was being evacuated. I remember sitting in the backseat of the rental car as we inched our way out of the park in a long line of traffic. I think I was sitting on the right side, behind the passenger seat. There were brush fires and ash by the side of the road and, even though we were leaving the park, there was still an eerie feeling about the whole situation. I think parts of this story may have been embellished in the many tellings since it actually occurred; I don't know if there were really scarred and scared animals watching the cars leave or if there was just sympathy for all the creatures in danger.

Oddly enough, that's where my memory ends: driving out of Yosemite. I don't even remember exactly where we went next (Fresno?**) although I remember a whole lot more about that trip. But, again, we'll get there.


*The capitalization of "The" is theirs, not mine. I'm willing to go with it but I do think it looks a little weird.

**Confirmed. It was Fresno.

To The Possible Disappointment of Karen Brewer

As I may have mentioned, I'm a huge fan of the great Baby-Sitters Club series (which shall hereafter be abbreviated with the usual BSC). Part of the vision here at Travel Rambling involves writing about travel books or books that are somehow related to travel. With that in mind, I've been thinking about one of the best/worst BSC books out there, a perfect one for this blog: BSC in the USA. At some point, I'll get to a full-on snark/recap/rant about my experiences at the places visited by the BSC but that's for later. For now, I'll just hate on Karen Brewer, which is something I really enjoy.

In BSC in the USA, each person chooses a place to visit somewhere in the continental US, between CT and CA, north-ish or south-ish depending on with whom they're traveling. Basically. Karen (step-sister of BSC president Kristy for anyone not in the know) chooses Four Corners, the place where Utah, Colorado, Arizona, and New Mexico meet. As it happens, her choosing of this particular place isn't exactly presented well... there's this idea that they won't be able to find the spot which makes no sense. After all, if it isn't a monument, how does Karen know to call it Four Corners? That is an official name after all. All stupidity aside, they actually do go there. Well, I too have been to Four Corners. Noting that the title of the post indicates disappointment, here's what's sort of wrong-ish with visiting Four Corners.

The Four Corners monument is in the wrong place. Well, kind of. The location of Four Corners has in recent months brought the monument into the spotlight and sparked a lot of discussion. I believe the official answer/solution is that the monument is in the right place although the location may technically be slightly off, though less than originally thought. The real explanation is waaaaay too technical and I'm not even going to go into it. Now that I've gone on about pretty much nothing, I realize this post doesn't really make a whole lot of sense. To bring things back to the BSC and obnoxious Karen, the character of Karen likes accuracy and insists on things being correct. If she were real, I would expect this location discrepancy to really bother her. (Oh dear, I'm putting way too much thought into what a fictional character might think...)

Anyway, all issues with location aside, Four Corners is a fun place to visit. In addition to the four states, two Native American Nations (Ute and Navajo) have boundaries at the monument. The monument is, I believe, maintained by the Navajo Nation and there are souvenirs available since nothing completes a monument visit like a little shopping.

The best thing about visiting Four Corners is the opportunity to be in all four states at one time. It's so much fun, people wait in line to do it (leaving someone back in the picture-taking area of course). A marker stands on the spot, listing each state with crossing lines marking the exact boundaries (I think that's the case... that's how I remember it!) To once again mention BSC in the USA, Karen wanted to stand in all four states and wave toward Connecticut which seemed to be somewhat difficult as she expected to need all hands and feet on the ground. However, she thought of the same thing I did (to my great shame): put half a foot in each state. In my defense, I hadn't read the book then. In fact, it may not have even been published when I visited Four Corners. I certainly hope that's the case.