vacations at home

Spent the day lazily kicking around Lambertville and New Hope. We had no desire to travel far or anywhere, but mid afternoon we walked down the wooded hill that is across the street from my house just to say we did something. Truthfully whole days can ooze by while perched on this hill, locally known as Music Mountain, without knowing there's the "city" of Lambertville not far away. The backyard is secluded, the front porch looks out onto woods. If I had a pool there would be little reason to leave. I often like to sit on the front porch and watch the day saunter into evening and listen to the birds and watch the occasional bat flit overhead.

Anyway yesterday, after our New York City adventure, we decided to stay in town. We walked the trail through the woods that skirts the ridge, listening to the train whistle from the tourist line in New Hope across the river, and descended onto York Street and eventually made our way onto the bridge and the cool breezes off the water cooled our skin in the bright sunlight. South was Washington's Outlook on Goat Hill on the New Jersey side and further along after the river bends to the east was Bowman's Tower. We settled onto chairs on the patio at the Starbucks just over the river in New Hope and watched people and cars pass us as we sipped our rewards. Later my son picked us up in the Pathfinder on his way to his job at Staples and we bought salmon for dinner that we grilled with lime juice and cilantro that we ate with grilled tomatoes and a large arugala/spinach salad with pinenuts and avocado and mushrooms.

Later it was a vacation to nowhere on the blue Cape Hatteras hammock Janet bought me for my birthday a few years back and we swayed in the breeze near the now green forsythia and beneath the proud Tulip tree and were happy we were together.

....just like i pictured it

Your VFH team followed their favorite team yesterday, all the way to the Bronx. Sure, Janet SAYS she is a Phillies fan, but she knows when to jump on the Yankee Bandwagon. Truthfully though we at VFH central often have both games on simultaneously and root accordingly. This upcoming weekend we'll be down at the Phillies stadium to catch a game.

Still, whatever your team affiliation, or hatred of the Yankees dynasty, going to Yankees stadium is as revered a trip as traveling to Cooperstown and the Baseball Hall of Fame. And, typical of your highly decorated VFH duo, we made it quite the occasion. We endeavor to to make each day an "event" and a mini vacation from home.

We opted for a different approach to getting to New York. Janet has often taken the ferry from Weehawken, NJ to cross the Hudson, but yesterday was the first for me. The train is a reliable means of transportation. The thought of driving all the way to NYC is prohibitive, with the wear and tear on the car and traffic and weather a major concern. But, this was a special occasion and because we left after rush hour for the 1:05 first pitch start of the game, and the typically summer slowdown of commuting, the traffic was light and we reached the ferry stop at Port Imperial fairly quickly and early enough to cash in on the cheaper parking. After 10 a.m. parking goes up an extra $2.00 to $10.00. The 10 minute trip itself was $8.50 each way, so it was slightly cheaper than going by train without the gasoline factored into the equation. But the trip itself was worth far more than the ultra efficient NJ Transit train ride. New York City rose majestically out of the Hudson, seemingly floating on the waters of the vast estuary. To the north was the George Washington Bridge, south was the Statue of Liberty with one spire of the Verrazano Narrows behind it in the far distance. The day was hot, but along the water there was a cooling breeze and a sense of promise as we awaited the ferry. We rode outside and marveled at this vast great island as the wind ruffled our hair. This was much better than the train and we sighed at our luck.

In Manhattan the Ferry company operates free shuttle buses and we took one all the way to Rockefeller Plaza. That would have been a $10 cab ride at least or a very long hot walk. You're able to get off the bus anywhere you'd like too, making this an added plus. At Rockefeller Plaza we walked around like tourists for awhile, chatted with a fellow I used to work with at NBC and eventually took the D train to 161st Street.

The old Yankee stadium is gone. I had first gone there with my Dad, who dragged half the neighborhood to a game one day decades ago. We ran around the stadium that dreary day, it was a rain out, but we really didn't care. I remember the pillars in the stands and the ornate facade. Over the years since I'd sat in every nearly every section, before and after the renovations of the 1970's. A childhood friend, Brian, and I often drove in and parked on the street and got bleacher seats for something like $1.50. The last game I went to at the old stadium was a couple of years ago, courtesy of free Maury tickets. I'm still amazed they tore down the old place, and as I stood before the new one, looking across the street at the gaping construction site, I was sad. Yet, the new Yankee stadium was clean and polished and beautiful, and it was more than a game, but an event.

Baseball always seems to evoke the child in everyone. Rather than the violence of football, it is an event, a gathering, a social occasion. There is a feeling of gaity throughout the stands and there's nothing like passing money and IDs and beers between patrons and concession employees. Even at the great heights of our seats, 6 rows from the edge in section 420a, there is an intimacy with the game and we were quite readily able to tell the Umpire his strike zone was askewed. We had purchased our tickets through Stubhub.com (http://www.stubhub.com/) when we couldn't get tickets through the Yankees website. We paid $25.00 not including varioius fees tacked on.

Before the game we went to Stan's Yankees bar on River Street. It is a New York version of Philadelphia's Chickie and Pete's, but without the Crab Fries. It was loud and packed and the scene was odd because the last time I'd been there the sky was blotted out by the EL and the stadium across the street. But since that was gone sunlight spilled in, illuminating the Yankee memorabilia. It's a great place for a beer or two before heading into the stadium.

We got to the stadium too late to tour the Monument park; they evidently need to close it to prepare for the game. No worries, we got a beer and walked the circumference of the stadium before walking forever to get to our seats 6 rows from the rim. (For Phillies fans following this blog, don't worry, nothing at Yankees Stadium replaces the food or the selection of beers you can find at your home. One stand, Beers of the World, featured Yuenglings....)

Oh yes, there was a game....the Yankees beat the Los Angeles Angels 10-6. It featured three home runs by the home team, but none by Alexander Rodriquez, A-Rod. He was stuck on 598. He should hit 600 soon, becoming the youngest major leaguer to reach that number. From our perch we had a clear view of everything, including the scoreboards and huge television in center field. I pointed out to Janet that Joe Girardi, the Yankees manager, had his number changed from 27 last year to 28 this year. Of course, last year the Yankees won their 27th championship...
Yeah, I'm a Yankees fan.

Don't worry...we'll give the Phillies their due on Sunday.

What makes your VFH team so successful is their ability to recognize serendipity when it rears its lovely head. We left our aerie after the 6th inning and decided to see if we could get seats closer to the field. Turns out the ushers guard these expensive seats zealously and as well they should. If I'm paying $1,325 in something called the Legends Suite I certainly don't want moochers like the VFH team sitting next to me! The Nazis glowered at anyone nearing the steps of the Field level seats which only went for $125 to $300 per, but Janet saw an opportunity when one lady was distracted from her post while tackling a poser and we deeked around her and watched the last three innings from great seats. I know its all a business, but there were certainly a lot of empty seats there.

After the game we decided to take the train down to Little Italy for a dinner at one of countless places on Mulberry Street. New York is fascinating as it changes dramatically within a block or two. We left the stadium, awash in pinstripes, rode a subway with humanity pressed and tired from their day, exited the subway and stepped into China with shops brimming with frogs and shark fins and crowded sideways and within a few blocks along Grand we entered a world of waiters waving us towards their menus. We ate at Da Nico and the only reason I give this place any space is because Janet and her friends had eaten here in the past and liked the food. I had Pollo Cardinale and was pleased.

We then walked up the Bowery and eventually into Greenwich Village. Before boarding the subway at 4th street we walked through Washington Square Park and watched the kids splash in the fountain on this humid night. A group of people played guitars and sang in one corner and we sat for awhile on a bench enjoying the scene.

The ride back across the Hudson was ethereal. As we slipped along the dark waters, with the lights of Manhattan dancing in the wake, we lingered in a loving embrace. Your favorite VFH team had a successful day....just like I pictured it.

this and that .... here and there

Sorry faithful readers... We have been doing much, but relating none of it for your entertainment. Consider this analogy, offered by Janet's lovely daughter...She says that although her bedroom needs a serious cleaning, she would rather be outside and enjoying the sunshine and the company of family and friends. Such is the case with the VFH team as well... Sadly I have been lacking in my devotion to relate our travels to you, and sadly, you're probably not missing the entries!

So, I'll try to get caught up little by little.

One of the best parts of living in the historic river town of Lambertville is the Delaware River. I have been on that river countless times over my decades of life. The Water Gap was a destination for the family trundling about in the Plymouth sedan. Towns like Hancock, Calicoon and Milford and stretches of the river like the Mon Gap and Skinners Falls inspired beatific visions of the summers canoeing on the upper Delaware. There was a week long trip sponsored by Boy Scouts that featured a spontaneous double date with two girls we met while paddling. My canoe partner and I hitch hiked back upriver to the girl's campsite for a rather pleasant evening....

When my family was young and intact we would linger by the Delaware, either at Lewis Island or a bit upriver near where the Alexauken Creek joined the timeless flow of this gentle river and we'd flounce about and Duke our Golden Retriever would follow us as we'd wade in up to our chests, lazily paddling along with us.

Soon after moving to Lambertville in 1989 I made a point of purchasing a surplus Old Town Discovery 158, a cadillac sized canoe, from a canoe rental place. The fellow asked if I needed help putting it on my truck. I said 'no'. I had him help me drag it to the river and I paddled the 8 miles to l'ville on my own. When I lived just off the canal in town I would paddle the kids into town to get ice cream... we called it "canaling". My son and I often did overnights and we'd camp on Eagle Island just above Stockton, cooking our meals on flat rocks heated in the campfire.

The other week Janet and I dragged the canoe up to Bulls Island and we meandered down the river to Lambertville. It was blisteringly hot day, but the river was cool and refreshing. We took our time and even lingered by Eagle Island. Janet placed the beach chair we toted along in the water and we let a hour pass without a thought. It was all pleasant and reminiscent of lives lived and good times to yet come.

Nirvana

The VFH "brew" crew just got back home from a glorious trip to Cooperstown, New York. I'd like to say that we explored this slice of Americana that is the home of the National Baseball Hall of Fame http://www.baseballhall.org/ sober and walked through the museum dizzy in awe of the legends of this great American Pastime enshrined here. I would love to say that we allowed a languid afternoon to meander towards evening as we lolled by the picturesque Lake Otsego with nothing stronger than unsweeted Iced-tea, or to take in a free game at the historic Doubleday Field with nothing more than a box of crackerjacks. Yes, we could have communed with nature at the Farmers Museum http://www.farmersmuseum.org/ or nodded in appreciation at the art of John Singer Sargent at the Fenimore Art Museum http://www.fenimoreartmuseum.org/.

It could have been all clean, wholesome fun. We could have trundled down Cooperstown's Main Street with the hordes of tourists ogling the baseball memorabilia shops, perhaps to even stroll, linked arm-in-arm, down to the small bridge at one end of the town to view the source of the mighty Susquehanna River.

But....beer is a strong incentive.

As well as the World Cup.

Our first thought when we arrived in Cooperstown on Tuesday was to find where to watch the World Cup match between Netherlands and Uruguay. We made a point of leaving very early so that we could drive the 240+ miles to Cooperstown with enough time to find a decent place. Well, we were worried at first. Several exploratory phone calls to restaurants and bars in the area were not promising as our questions about the World Cup match were often met with a "huh". One bartender said they didn't like the television on, another said it's first come first serve with the viewing..... Ugh.

At least the choice of beer would not be a problem at any of the places because Brewery Ommegang, which makes wonderful Belgian style ales, is a local company and every place had at least one on tap! http://www.ommegang.com/ But like a lot of the United States these days we're pretending to like soccer during the World Cup and we had followed religiously, although we weren't close to declaring war on Ghana when USA lost to them in the knock out round. We were still interested in seeing the two matches scheduled on Tuesday and Wednesday.

We flitted from bar to bar with nothing catching our fancy until we happened upon an information booth... I asked the woman there where to find three things. 1) World Cup 2) Food & 3) Ommegang. She immediately pointed across Main Street to the Doubleday Cafe. It was a crowded, noisey place brimming with tourists, but it had a nice menu with good prices and a bar with a spectacular flat screen television and a brew from Ommegang called Rare Vos for just $4 a pint! The best part was the bartender, a cheery fellow named Juddy, and one of the patrons, who bounced in and out from his dry cleaning business around the corner, Helmut, were enthusiastic about the matches as well. It made for a delightful afternoon.

After Netherlands won we said good-byes and walked down Main Street and visited the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Your interpid (and slightly snookered) Vacations From Home teammates are fans of the game and we delighted in the memorabilia and tales of the sport's history. We marveled over the pricy collectable baseball cards and uniforms set up in locker room displays and the balls collected from each no hitter hurled from 1940 onwards on one massive wall. We laughed at Abbot and Costello's timeless 'Who's On First' routine played in a loop and like dutiful altar boys at the Stations of the Cross we read nearly every bas relief plaque of the HOF enshrinees. I was particularly interested in seeing the locker room displays of the garrulous Ty Cobb and Lou Gehrig as well as Phil "Scooter" Rizzuto's plaque as I had grown up listening to him talk about canoli as he called the Yankees games on WPIX.

Wednesday was much of the same, though we got it in our head to go on something called the Cooperstown Beverage Trail. http://www.cooperstownbeveragetrail.com/. Visit all four and sample some good (and bad) drink and you get a FREE beer bug (or wine glass). Use the word "free" in a sentence anywhere near the Vacations From Home team and you're sure to be trampled in the ensuing bedlam. We took our breakfast at the Fly Creek Cider Mill by sampling every possible use of apples from butter to salsa to bbq sauce, dipping fistfulls of pretzels in the concoctions and washed it all down with some Hard Apple Cider and Apple Wine. It was a hot morning and we also cashed in the coupons that gave us a free Apple slurpy or slushie... it was good. Then it was back to the Doubleday cafe for Germany / Spain and more pleasant company from Skully and Helmut as well as a husband and wife from the area who rooted for Spain. The rest of us were on the German bandwagon. Spain agonizingly neutralized the German machine though to gain the final on Sunday.

Turns out the couple were school teachers too and were both from the Kearny/Harrison area of New Jersey where I grew up and so the banter soon turned from soccer to life and after the game they took us to a pleasant restaurant/bar tucked away on a side street away from Main. The Hoffman Lane Bistro proved to be a find. http://www.hoffmanlanebistro.com/. Not only did they have several Ommegang on tap, but they were pushing 750 ml bottles of Three Philosophers beer from Ommegang at just $4.00 per; a substantial savings from the normal retail price. They had several cases leftover from a party. We brought several bottles to take home, but left them at the restaurant to keep on ice until the next day. After our school teacher friends left Janet and I then strolled through the leafy streets of Cooperstown and breathed the fresh air and pondered the plausibility of moving here. The people are friendly, the town had a bit of a spark with all the baseball and the rural country side was just around the corner.

The next day, Thursday, we had no World Cup and no baseball. It was not an empty day though. After Janet made a glorious breakfast of bacon and eggs and we sloshed it all down with strong strong strong percolated coffee we then headed out on the beverage trail again. Ignoring the caravans of vans brimming with youth baseball players headed to the Cooperstown Dream Park emblazoned with colorful signs saying things like "Cooperstown or Bust" we hustled down the base path to the Bear Pond Winery where we sampled some "interesting" wines. We split the cost of one tasting, which included 6 choices. We were afraid we would not be able to pick another six! We ended up buying a bottle of rose that we figured would be good on a hot day.

But today was beer day and we very quickly headed north to the Cooperstown Brewing Company where we were entertained by the tattooed brewmeister/mechanic/salesman, Dennis, and it changed our minds about the beer. I had tried something called "Old Slugger" at Doubleday, thinking a change from the Rare Vos of Ommegang was necessary, and thought it tasted as if there was something wrong with the tap.... Turns out Old Slugger was sluggish no matter the venue.

The rest though were very good and all featured baseball motif names. We purchased two six packs of Coopertown Brewery beer; an award winning Porter called Benchwarmer and a very strong special ale called the Pride of Milford, which features a picture of the owner in a baseball uniform on the label. It was a positive visit. We had not expected much, but were pleased.

All was forgotten when we reached Nirvana; Brewery Ommegang! Looking like a Belgian Farmhouse in the New York State countryside, Ommegang beckoned us like a safe haven from Apple wine dead ends and skunk beer. Gleaming white in the brilliant afternoon sunlight Ommegang was the real reason for our trip to Cooperstown. We have been drinking these wonderful elixhirs, these Beligian style farmhouse ales and wheat beers for years and have long considered a trip to the brewery an implausible dream. But, here we were, standing before the gates like long lost children and we giddily waited for the tour and free tastings. We then bought a bottle of Ommegang, a Trappist Monk ale, and sat in the shade of an umbrella at one of the picnic tables to further extend our visit. We bought gifts and took pictures and when we finally left to swim at the campsite we were happy and satisfied and pleased we had traveled all these miles to reach this destination. We collected our decorative coasters and our Cooperstown Beverage commemorative beer mugs and drove away thinking here's another reason to buy property in Cooperstown!

After enduring the cacophany of youth baseball team members cannonballing their way into the pool we dressed and had another Ommegang at the Blue Mingo. If you decide to go, please please please ignore the dusty parking lot and boathouse, as well as the tacky gift shop in the front. When you finally enter the bar and restaurant that literally sits on Lake Otsego you will be so enchanted that perhaps you'll alter your plans for the rest of the day. We almost did, especially since our favorite bartender, Juddy, was there having ended his shift at the Doubleday Cafe. But, in the end we stayed with our original plan for the Hoffman Lane Bistro where we capped our mini vacation with a fine meal.

anybody want a dog

Oh yeah....the damned dog looks innocent in the picture, but she is a pain in the butt.

Twice, yes, twice, she ran away today! Early this morning she was wandering the aisles of the local CVS. Yes, Elliemae, the
whacked-out Tree Walking Coon Hound, was IN THE STORE. Perhaps the old lady was looking for Metamuscil? She may be old, but she's smart, because she knows I give her a cookie everytime I bring her home!
The bitch....

Tonight it happened again. I went out to Washington's Outlook which is on Goat Hill just south of Lambertville to view the Friday night fireworks, and the whole point of this particular blog entry. But, back to that later..................
I got home and looked for the dog to let her out, but she was no where to be found. Now I know she doesn't like the fireworks and when I've been home for them I noticed she cowers in the bathroom. She may not hear very well; she certainly doesn't listen very well; but she must hear the kaboom of the pyrotechnics....the bitch...

Well tonight I failed to lock the back door again and while I spent a glorious evening watching the fireworks display, the bad dog got out again. I couldn't find her in any of her favored sleeping niches. Just as I got home the phone rang and someone was saying they had her down on Main Street. It was a good thing I didn't go out for a bite to eat, or else Elliemae might have been gone forever.... the bitch....

Naw, I couldn't be that lucky. Besides, she knows I have cookies at home.

Anyway, there are three hills in Lambertville. I live on Music Mountain, aptly named for the musical venue that was once here. Then there's Connaught Hill and Cottage Hill. Cottage Hill leads to Goat Hill which is in the next town, West Amwell. On Goat Hill the city of Lambertville gives quickly away to woods and scattered homes. Turn down an aptly named, George Washington Road, and it leads into dense woods that was once a Scout camp and then private property before being presented to New Jersey. It is now parkland and a quick hike up a winding road leads to a promontory overlooking the Delaware and the sister cities, Lambertville and New Hope. When it was private land I would sneak onto the property with Elliemae, the bitch, and hike about... Inevitably she would chase a deer or some sort of animal and I would chase after her and her howling...or is that baying? Whatever....the bitch!

At the crest of this hill I settled my butt on the beach chair I dragged up and watched the hazy night approach. For a good while there was just another person sharing this view with me. He had a long lens digital camera that looked professional. We chatted a bit and then gaped at a sun that slipped from beneath cloud cover before finally setting over the distant rolling Pennsylvania hills. We listened to the gleeful clamor of music from far below as the towns geared up for the evening's fireworks. Eventually the promontory filled up with others awaiting the display, braving the steep, rocky road that wound up the hill.



When the fireworks finally started, all the chattering ceased as people watched the display reverently. Every booming explosion roiled across the valley, echoing in our hearts and pulling the air from our lungs. It was glorious and it was all lower than eye level. From our steep perch we looked down on the barge and the river and the hordes gathered on the bridge. We heard their cheers between the percussive thuds and when it ended everyone on the hill applauded like children. Afterwards people picked their way down the steep road, flashlights flitting the haphazard footfalls. We spoke in hushed tones. This was a special night...




So joyous was this occasion, so filled with pride that my heart swelled with the knowledge this was home, my town, that I didn't mind the dog had gotten loose again. I was home and this was good and Elliemae's trangression was met with a hug and a cookie.

well well well

I have been admonished by my partner in traveling. She has said that I have failed to keep up with the antics of the last weekend in this forum. True, I did not write anything of our time together, which was basically co-habiting in the nether regions of Pennsyltucky. We did celebrate her daughter's 23rd birthday by going on a pub crawl in Phoenixville, home of the movie theater featured in the B horror film, The Blob and hurt ourselves in a mat pilates class on Sunday morning. Sadly I didn't think enough of the weekend to write anything, but she wagged a finger at me and said I was slipping in my devotion to this most necessary blog. How else will our devoted readers learn what is important to see around this area that we live in, and how else will you get ideas to run around on the quick and cheap?

She's correct you know...but she's out galavanting in Hilton Head, South Carolina for a weekend that started on Wednesday. She's partying with her crones from college; there's a summer home down there...and testosterone is not allowed at this party...unless, of course, they all decide to go out to a club sometime. (I hope they don't get hernias trying to pick up guys.)

Anyway, there you have it... we of VFH central are a separate entity this weekend. I'm sure she'll have tales to relate... but right now I'm kicking back and watching the grass grow...and shooting deer with the Red Ryder bb gun if they get too close to my hostas...the evil beasts....

love to all ... except deer and squirrels...

g

a pineapple, a coconut and a lei

Regrettably I was unable to attend this glorious event. The Bruce Wray Memorial Hawaiian Shirt Invitational Competition was held a few weeks ago and FINALLY we at VFH central got a picture to share with all those who follow this blog. You may say that this all old news that the team should have moved on to another subject, like Tiki Bars or tubing on the Delaware, or anything else, but when a competition involves such frightening displays of color and bravery by the souls who wear them, it is our duty to honor them with this picture.

The reason there was such a long delay between the event and this photograph was the judges' ruling about the leopard skin stripes on the one shirt and whether or not this qualified as an Aloha or Hawaiian Shirt. The fellow was finally awarded his lei because the shirt, while stretching the rules, was particularly hideous. The picture was finally released by the BWMHSIC Committee after much quibbling and a number of Mai Tais.

Congratulations to the winners. Somewhere Bruce Wray is sipping his own drink and chuckling lowly.