Brooklyn, abridged

Our son David is continuing his tour of the most expensive cities in America.  He is now working in Manhattan, and living in the trendy up-and-coming borough of Brooklyn.  

I have to say that it is quite a bit easier and less expensive to get from Rochester, NY to Brooklyn than it was to get to San Francisco.  And David's new apartment is actually large enough so his folks can have his bed while he sleeps on the couch, so for short visits, the hotel bill is appreciably less. 

A month is short, right, Dave?

There is plenty to see an do in Brooklyn.  Part of the fun was figuring out what we could do that would accommodate the soccer injury sustained by David's roomie, Mary.

"I've got it!  How about if we walk all over town!"

"Great idea!!!  Let's go!"

Torturing Mary

But like most Brooklynites, Mary was quite stylish,
even though she was less than 100%.

We went to Smorgasburg on the banks of the East River.
If you can not find something tasty there,
get counseling for your eating disorder.

The food made everyone forget the chilly weather.

The view across the river is pretty great.

But I have to admit I preferred this view.
These are quite possibly be the best donuts I have ever tasted.
It's good I don't live here.

I never suspected raptors did laundry...
and for so many years.

I don't know how much they get for the fleas in here.

Brooklyn graffiti is a cut above most I've seen.
Does this one count if it's a sticker?

Is it graffiti if it is legal?
These guys had a truck and lifts and...
Is it graffiti if it is done by professionals?

Even the paint splashes are artistic in Brooklyn.
I thought this rendition of a long-haired screaming spirit
was appropriate close to Halloween.

Yes, art is everywhere in Brooklyn.
You can't see the name on the tag,
but this piece was named "American Governance"

The line for the Brooklyn Brewery changed our plans.
Geez, it's not like it's Genesee or anything.

We went to the Counting Room instead.
The views of the warped telephone pole were far superior here.

As were the recycled water bottle views.

I can't imagine there being any problems here.

This is David's neighborhood in Brooklyn.
I liked the fact that the little kids on his street were playing outside.
If David ever wants to learn Español
now is the time.

There was a 3 hour wait at the sit-down part of Roberta's,
so we ordered out and ate at the open air bar next door.

Great fun for all ages!

The subway ride back was a blur.

The next day, we went over to Manhattan.
That's the High Line straight ahead.
It was an abandoned elevated rail line where plants had taken hold.
Now it is a park on a an abandoned elevated rail line where plants have taken hold.

It is pretty and interesting.
One could say, "Pretty interesting."

Only stylish people are allowed on the High Line.
And their photographers, of course.

One of the many attractions on the High Line.

The High Line provides some interesting views.
There is something appealing about strolling along
slightly above the fray of the city.

As I peered over, this pier appeared less useful than its peers.

The High Line is appealing even without the views.

Still time to change the track you're on.

You can also appreciate the congestion from the High Line.
There is not a lot of room out there on the Hudson for those sailboats.

This is where the subway trains get fresh air.

The goldenrod waved goodbye as we left the High Line.

You may want to hold of for a while on going to Manhattan.
It is unfinished.

David said he works behind those little windows way up high.
How can we be sure?  He didn't take us there.
I hope he is not using this as a cover for some deplorable occupation
like Global Investment Banking.

We finished our visit in Bryant Park,
a lovely respite just a block away from Times Square.
I hope David will show us more like this when we return for a month.

An Eventful Lonesome Day

It was an exceptionally eventful day, but lonely, since the first thing I did was to drive Mary to the Little Falls interchange on the NYS Thruway so she could catch her ride to Cape Cod.  She was on her way to curl with a group of women from Rochester in a bonspiel in Falmouth.  It's a great bonspiel to attend, since most curling events entail weather even colder than the ice surface.  At this event on the Cape, you curl for part of the day, and spend the rest of it on the beach.

As we left, I grabbed my camera.  "I know what you're going to do," said Mary.

"I'm really not that hard to figure out," I replied.

Mary on her way, I turned right near the bottom of the hill onto the grounds of the Herkimer Home.

Here is the view just beyond the entrance, 
which is obscured from the highway by trees.
Maybe the trees should be made into firewood.
I've been driving past the entrance for 15 years,
with no idea that the grounds were so striking.

Nicolas Herkimer (anglicized from Herchheimer) must have been a wealthy man.
A brick house of this size must have cost a fortune in 1764.
Come to think of it, it wouldn't be cheap today.

No less impressive from the southeast.

The view of the house from the confined banks of the Mohawk River.
I'm sure General Herkimer saw this area flooded more than once.
Not sure the party tent is original.

I bet you missed the yellow moths on the road in the previous photo.

A lovely bateau.
How would you like to pole this baby, loaded with a ton of provisions,
up the Mohawk against the current?

The monument to the General.

So why has the home been preserved, and the monument erected?  Perhaps because there might be no US of A without the General's exploits.  

As his troops marched to the defense of the besieged Fort Schuyler, they were ambushed in the gully of a small creek.  Herkimer, bleeding from a wound in his leg, twice rallied his troops.   Aided by a sudden downpour, he was able to organize his forces and repulse the attack.

The inspiring yet sad story might have been forgotten after he died of his wounds days later at his home, but the action of that day (and subsequent engagements) broke one of the three prongs of British General Burgoyne's campaign.  The Colonies remained whole, not divided and conquered.

But the home itself was not open.  I'll have to go back.  I'm sure Mary will be excited about that.

I left the Herkimer grounds, setting out to see the view from the high hill that separates the Thruway from the river.  Buzzing past on the Thruway, I often promised myself that I'd see what I could see from the top of that hill.  Faced with the same issue as the builders of the Erie Canal, the New York State Thruway Authority decided to go up and over rather than pave over a significant part of the city of Little Falls.  If you've ever driven that stretch, you've been in the channel carved out of black rock that maintains the gradual slope.  

The stretch is also personally significant, since I spent a long dark evening there once when my orange Datsun B210 decided the hill was too high.  Why didn't I put the purchase price into maintaining my '66 Volvo?  I cringe every time I pass through, remembering how the little insect of a car shuddered each time a huge truck flew past in the driving rain.

Though I was not able to look down onto Little Falls as I thought I might, there are some splendid reasons to turn off Route 5s onto Otrupcak Hill Road.

By the way, I'll also have to go back and take all these pictures again
when the sky is bright blue and filled with puffy clouds.
Then I'll substitute them and resend the blog.
The things I do for you...

The hill with the pinwheels on top is across the Mohawk is at least a mile away.
I have no idea where that mansion is.
Never saw it before exploring the top of this hill.

The flowers, moths and birds were abundant atop the hill.
Bright sun, steady wind and bird music make it a peaceful place.

Frustrated at no view down to Little Falls, I turned around
and was treated to this vista on my way back.
Sometimes what you get is better than what you look for.

I will go there again.  And maybe Mary will actually want to go.  To see this place.

No one was manning Stone Sink Designs,
but the flowers were beautiful,
and the idea of a business stuck way out on a dirt road
on a windswept hill was intriguing.

Do they make deliveries?
I hope the brakes are good for the ride down the hill.
If not, there will certainly be breaks.

"Grow Yourself Happy,"
reinforced by floral notes from a sousaphone planter.

I came down off the hill and headed back to the valley.

Many times I've driven up and down Rt. 169, the short highway from the Thruway Exit 29A to Little Falls, and noticed there are rocks up above that don't look quite right.  They just don't grow like that.

I surmised that the Erie Canal engineers had created the slice through the rocks to skirt the rapids called Little Falls.  I was wrong.

The Little Falls Canal was completed in 1795, many years prior to Erie.
A mile long, half of it was cut out of solid rock.
I'm guessing numerous barrels of black powder were used,
since the invention of dynamite was many years in the future.
A bike path has replaced the water.

One of the houses on the dead end road above.
Not sure why you'd want to build a house with an empty canal view.

Canal Discovery Time complete, I pointed the car towards the camp.  There is an official Scenic Overlook on the way up Rt. 167 to Dolgeville.  It is completely useless due to the trees below the parking site and the angle of view.  But it is a great place to leave your car while you run back down the slope to the spot where you can stand on the guard rail and brace your leg against a mailbox so you can take pictures.

Hokey as it may sound, I really do love New York.
This view is downriver from the north side of the Mohawk Valley.
Do you think the road designers consciously mimicked the curves of the river?

Just before I crossed the town line into Stratford, where the camp resides, I saw a dark figure move off the road up ahead.  Slowing to look into the woods, I confirmed that it was a small bear.  He looked at me for a moment and then vanished.

No, I don't constantly have the camera in one hand while I drive with the other, so you don't get to see him.

There were more cars on the dead-end road into the camp than I had ever seen before.
More wildlife, no doubt.

Yep...a horde of vultures at an estate sale.  And I was one.
I came away with exactly what I needed...nothing!

When I got back to the camp, I took out my pea shooter and blew all this data to bits.
CDs are great targets...you can't miss.
If you don't pierce the disk, your shot obviously went through the center hole.

Arriving at the camp, our needy dog expressed desire for my sandwich.

Ginger wants salami, and I don't care!
(to the tune of Jimmy Crack Corn)
Ginger wants salami, and I don't care!
Ginger wants salami, and I don't CARE...
Her dog food's best for her.

I went for an evening cruise in my kayak.
The channel to the big lake is beyond the marsh and between the trees.
Kane Mountain looms, more distant than it appears.

I went out to the big portion of the Canada Lake to see if the eagle was in the tree where Mary had detected it two days before.  Probably too many people and boats around on this nice weekend, so no luck.  I followed Papa Loon for awhile, letting him lead me away from Mama and Baby, and then decided that it was time to head back.

"Leave my family alone, Human!"

As I paddled, a shadow moved across the water and I looked up to see the eagle almost directly overhead, fish in his talons.  He banked to the left and to my surprise, landed in the shallows nearby.  I grabbed the camera from the waterproof bag and started clicking away as the wind pushed me toward him.

He has just finished his sushi.
I was surprised he let me drift as close as he did.

He was done eating, and I was getting closer, so he bid adieu.

I'm glad to have some pictures of this guy, but they don't really capture the detail I'd like.
Why thanks, big guy...you've provided a perfect excuse for that longer lens I've been wanting.

I paddled home with renewed vigor, looking forward to seeing the eagle on screen.  Having him show off was a great ending to a eventful day, but when I finally returned, the house was quiet and just didn't seem alive.  I let the dog out, but she didn't seem to have her usual energy.

It doesn't matter what we do.
We're still lonesome.