Archives for September 2021

Schenectady? Scotia?!?

September 20, 2021 by John 1 Comment

Photo #1 caption: Schenectady mission accomplished! (See below for details, such as they are.)

One side-effect of our four nights in Saratoga Springs: we learned how much we liked — <em>needed</em> — extended stays in general (as opposed to two- and three-night blow-in/blow-out visits). So we started looking for Airbnb sorts of places near Saratoga Springs, even if we couldn’t stay in Saratoga Springs…

Nothing really that close, of course, so we widened our search. Lo and behold, a very interesting-sounding Airbnb place: an older home in a suburb of Schenectady, called Scotia — for a very reasonable weekly price!

We immediately contacted the host.

And then waited… and waited…

Finally she got back to us, the next day. Alas, she said, she would be unable to host us — because something had come up with another reservation, and she’d had to scramble to take care of her current guests, and she’d had to move one of those parties into the house we wanted, sorry sorry so very sorry—

Well, by then, we’d invested a certain amount of time in researching things to do in and near both Scotia and Schenectady. And we had almost no time left to look for longer-term lodging anyway. So we just checked around for plain old hotels, found a Comfort Inn in Scotia, and booked it… for three nights. Not ideal, but honestly there wasn’t that much we wanted to see nearby. We just wanted at that point to regroup, and plan a real extended, put-our-feet-up interlude somewhere.

Which we did. Oh, we had a few highlights right there in Scotia(ish):

A family member’s family had once lived — but no longer lived — in a favorite home in Schenectady, and although it wasn’t delivered as a <em”>request, exactly, I could tell they sorta-kinda wouldn’t mind if I maybe took a photo or two…?
On the way to that address, I stopped at a mall to see if I could get my watch battery replaced. (It’d stopped the day before.) Of course the mall — like many — was on its last legs, but a jeweler there did replace the battery. Unfortunately, they also set the weekday-and-date display just slightly wrong: it was 12 hours off-schedule. So ever since, every time the watch’s time creeps towards noon, the day of the week and the date also start to roll forward. I haven’t taken the time (haha) to fix it yet. It’s very confusing, though, when The Missus asks me what day it is and I look down at my wrist and then must asked myself, “Wait — is it actually daytime outside, or is it night? And thus do I just tell her what my watch says, or do I need to subtract a day?”
After I left the mall, I headed into the heart of Schenectady. I had my new camera with me. It was raining quite a bit, off and on, but I figured I could at least take the pictures of the house from the curb, through an open car window. But as I headed that way, I kept glimpsing, in the sky, an enormous dark tower. A church…? But what the hell kind of church…?!? I realized I just had to photograph that, too. So I drove around, glancing skywards occasionally… and just as I arrived at the foot of it, promptly got lost in a maze of streets on which I couldn’t park at all. I didn’t get the photo — the one shown here was taken by the author of this fascinating blog post, titled “Schenectady’s Grotesque Grotesques.”.
While discussing the family member’s house project, she told me the location was very close to a residential section of Schenectady called the “GE Plot.” (You can read about the GE Plot on Wikipedia.) The Missus and I did drive around that neighborhood while we were up there… took no pictures, but the houses and properties were indeed impressive!

By the way, a shrewd observer will notice that Scotia itself doesn’t seem to have been a highlight. We’d meant to spend more time looking around there as well as Schenectady — just didn’t, as it happened, have the time to spend. Even the meals were cursory — two of the three were simple takeout or delivery at the hotel. The third was a surprise — a Japanese restaurant which probably rates among the top dozen meals we’ve had on the trip so far… But yeah, we just didn’t experience Scotia enough to do it, well, justice.

Fleeing Henri, Part 2: Saratoga Springs

September 19, 2021 by John 3 Comments

Photo #1 caption: The Batcheller’s Mansion Inn in Saratoga Springs. No, we didn’t stay there (and aren’t likely to stay there in the future, given the room rates). It’s across the street from the Holiday Inn where we did stay, though. I didn’t know it was there until one evening when I went outside to move the car to a more convenient location. This place looks C,R,E,E,P,Y in the dark, let me tell you!

Let’s get a little administrative detail out of the way, shall we? I’m speaking of course of the obvious fact: there’s been nothing new added here in two freaking weeks. And this bloggish background silence has taken place behind a foreground that included (as of today) stops not only in New York State, but in Vermont, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Connecticut. So there’s a lot of catching up to do… and this means, I think, that I’m going to accelerate the schedule a bit: I’ll just post brief narratives of each of those missing places, until the catching-up is accomplished.

(Remember: if you’re after a more up-to-date sense of where we are, the best place to look is probably my Instagram account. That, too, isn’t 100% current, because I’m posting only one photo a day. But it will at least reassure you that We Are (as the saying goes) Still Here.

Let’s get started!

Putting Henri Behind Us

Despite our worst fears about Hurricane Henri, the storm really didn’t bother us until shortly after we left the Indian Head Resort…

Once we’d decided to flee further inland, we pulled up the maps of what lay to the west. To head to Vermont felt like too small a baby step, given Henri’s forecast cone, so we jumped right over there and looked at northern New York State (i.e., “anywhere north of Albany”). Part of my motivation, I think, was that it would put us on the way to our western New York State destinations, Niagara Falls and Jamestown, which might simplify the next-state planning. (I was very disappointed that Vermont appeared to be out of the question, but, well, as we’d already learned: the road trip taketh away as well as giveth.)

But then we noticed something we simply couldn’t ignore: the route would take us verrrrry close to Enfield, NH, where one of The Missus’s favorite nieces had just bought her first home (with her husband and daughter). So as I drove, The Missus burned up the (wireless) phone lines with The Enfield Niecelet, making plans for our stop along the way.

We got a tour of the house, of course, and visited The Niecelet’s Husband at his workplace, and then we The Niecelet, and the Grand-Niecelet headed out for lunch. It was a nice meal in nearby Lebanon, but by the time we paid the check there were already raindrops falling on our heads.

Off we headed, westward… into the worst of Henri we experienced.

Was it a good thing or a bad thing that we’d opted not to take any major highways? Well, it depends on the kind of route you’d find more suited to your personality, given a whiteout-level rainfall:

On a highway, even the straightest, you not only are moving faster, but also are just incapable of seeing the other vehicles around you until it’s (almost) too late.
On back roads, at least in New Hampshire/Vermont, probably won’t be sharing the trip with many other vehicles at all. On the other hand, such vehicles as you do encounter are likely operated by locals who well know the sinuous twists and turns, the spots most likely to be shallowly flooded, the surprise stop signs and bear-crossing signs and so on, and so those vehicles will be riding your tail the whole way. And, of course, you still can’t see anything further than about a car’s-length in any direction.

So it was pretty white-knuckle driving, all the way…

…all the way until we crossed into Vermont. Suddenly the clouds parted, the rain stopped, and we could just enjoy the rest of the drive to Saratoga Springs.

Last Week of the Saratoga Springs Racing Season

Somehow — I certainly don’t know how — we’d managed to secure two nights’ last-minute lodging at a very nice Holiday Inn in Saratoga Springs. Even more remarkably, this was during the last week of the biggest tourist event in the town, during the craziest tourist season in anyone’s recent memory: the final week of horse-racing season. The town, in other words, was mobbed. Even more surprisingly, we were able to extend our stay for a couple more nights.

(We wanted to extend the stay for a number of reasons: Saratoga is such a nice town, with such a nice downtown, and neither of us had ever been there before; we felt like we really needed a break — we were tired of thinking we had to run away from something, or to run somewhere, like Bar Harbor, which became this hard, fixed external thing which controlled our schedule; and we really needed to do laundry (heh) — this Holiday Inn offered free laundry facilities for guests.)

Highlights of the Saratoga Springs visit:

Laundry. (No, really: this was important by now!)
I’d bought a replacement (used) camera, making up for the one which had gone belly-up way back in Greenville NC. I’d had it shipped it to my brother’s, thinking we could pick it up the next time we were in NJ… but since we were now staying in Saratoga Springs for a whole week, I could arrange for him to overnight it to me at the hotel. (Hurrah!)
I had a couple hearing-aid-related near-disasters — which seemed disastrous enough that I was in genuine despair about them for about 24 hours. (Neither truly was a disaster, thank God. But it was a near thing.)
We bought gear for what we imagined to be some upcoming trail adventures: “trekking poles”; compasses; binoculars.
Fabulous meals, with drinks to match (here, here, and here — in addition to the nice food and cocktails offered by the hotel itself), served by almost frighteningly competent and cheerful waitstaff.

In fact, we enjoyed our stay there so much that we tried to extend it again… but no such luck: not just the Holiday Inn, but everywhere else in Saratoga Spring was booked solid for the very last couple of days of the season. So: last-minute emergency strategizing occurred. Stay tuned!

Fleeing Henri, Part 1: Lincoln, New Hampshire

September 5, 2021 by John Leave a Comment

Photo #1 caption: This was taken from our balcony at the Indian Head Resort, Lincoln NH… on the safer side (at the time) of the Kancamagus Highway through the White Mountains.

Our road trip — disrupted at the outset by Hurricane Elsa, in Florida — faced yet another disruption in the form of oncoming Hurricane Henri, in Maine. Luckily, our reservation at Holbrook House in Bar Harbor was up on September 21, a day or two before the new storm’s anticipated arrival. Unluckily, our (modified) plan at that point had been to head south, to Cape Code and so on — also well within the cone of Henri’s path. With this new weather evidence in hand, we chose instead to run to the west, starting with New Hampshire. We figured we’d stay there a couple nights, then head even further west into New York State. (We really didn’t want to deal with a big storm by then.)

It took a bit of legwork, especially by The Missus, to come up with someplace in New Hampshire which actually had space for a couple for two nights. (Remember, this was still the height of 2021’s tourist season in New England.) She finally located such a place, though — Indian Head Resort, in Lincoln.

The drive to Lincoln

I should at this point mention the “new” car’s idiosyncratic GPS…

The car we had until August 6 or so, in North Carolina, had no built-in GPS at all. Of course, we did have GPS apps on our phones, and this led to various “interesting” conversations about the driver’s instinctive desire to glance down at his phone to see the route in advance — how many tenths of a mile until the next turn, and so on — and the passenger’s instinctive desire to remain alive. (These conversations were made even more colorful thanks to the driver’s hearing, and his knee-jerk instinct to look towards the passenger when she was, uh, conversing.)

But the new car has built-in GPS. So the driver can sneak little down-and-to-the-right, status-checking glances without actually looking away from the road. On the other hand, the built-in GPS does not appear to be anywhere near as flexible as, say, Google Maps: it shows you the route in progress, but doesn’t (as far as we know) let you zoom out for an overview, or let you avoid highways by choice. All the way up from NC, in fact, it seemed adamantly to insist that we stick to highways…

…except that if you intentionally ignore it, it will eventually give up and accept that you don’t like its preselected routeing. (You’re following this, right?!?) At that point, it sort of sighs and adjusts its own thinking to accommodate yours.

Soooo anyhow, we set out from Bar Harbor. We knew we wanted to go to New Hampshire through Bangor, for our requisite photo-op stop at Stephen King’s old house, and then on to Lincoln — and because we weren’t in that much of a hurry, we wanted to avoid highways. If you look at a map, though, you’ll see there’s not really an east-west major-highway route to get you there; you’ll have to follow I-95 south for a ways, and then get off onto US 301, and then et cetera. Boring highways.

Photo #2 caption: Partial satellite view of the Kancamagus Highway. Dig that crazy Hancock Overlook hairpin turn…!

Surprise, surprise: the GPS dumped us off of I-95 fairly quickly, eventually leading us to NH Route 112, also known as the mouth-wateringly-crunchy Kancamagus Highway. (The name rhymes with, well, “bank in August,” and comes from the name of a 17th-century Native American chief who lived in the area. It means, roughly, “fearless one,” or more specifically, “fearless hunter of animals.)

The Kancamagus winds through White Mountain National Forest — or maybe writhes through the forest would be more precise. Definitely not the kind of drive you’d want to do “under the influence,” or in heavy weather! (Aside: driving “through” White Mountain National Forest is misleading: you’re also driving UUUUUUUPPP and DOOOOWWWN the whole time, as well as turning left and right constantly. One of those trips that passengers in the car may generally enjoy more than the white-knuckled driver. 😱)

The Indian Head Resort

Photo #3 caption: Our retro room at Indian Head. We didn’t get to see any other rooms, but I suspect “retro” would apply to them all.

As you can see from the resort’s Web site, the place is, well, uh… not new, by most measures. Knotty-pine paneling, old exposed pipes in the bathroom ceiling, well-worn carpeting on the floor… On the other hand, it was well-maintained (e.g., those pipes seemed to have been repainted within the last couple months) and clean — very important these days, of course.

Also important for our purposes: the resort has (besides the classic tacky-touristy gift shop) a restaurant and bar.

An entry in the Interesting Conversations category: When we ate dinner, we talked a little with our waiter, whose name tag identified him as “Rovshan.” The Missus asked what country he was from; he told her twice, I think, but all she could get was that the name ended in “-stan”… and that it’s apparently a country adjacent to Turkey, a country which, well, no longer exists. (I can’t imagine being from a country I couldn’t point to on a current map. If the USA ceased to exist, would I still be “American”???) He expected to be here for only a couple more weeks until he returned, under whatever unimaginable passport he was traveling on.

[Aside: I’ve since looked up the name “Rovshan” on Wikipedia. All the Rovshans listed there are Azerbaijanis, i.e., “a Turkic ethnic group, living mainly in the sovereign Republic of Azerbaijan and the Azerbaijan region of Iran, with a mixed cultural heritage, including Turkic, Caucasian and Iranian elements.” Reading further about Azerbaijan didn’t reveal any “-stan” names, but I probably just misheard the “-jan.”]

Betty and Barney Hill

One element of our visit to the Indian Resort which most fascinated me, anyhow: out front of the place, on the shoulder alongside US Route 3, stands the New Hampshire state historic marker shown at the right.

Like any good aficionado of the old X-Files TV series and other UFO stories, I knew of Betty and Barney Hill, all right — but I didn’t know the details of the whole thing. (And I certainly didn’t expect to encounter them on our road trip!)

You can read about the Hills’ “interrupted journey” at Wikipedia, naturally. I found a couple other good sources of information:

This history.com article, from January 2020, does a good job of covering all the important points.
Much more recently — on August 29, just a week ago as I write this — the Showtime TV network ran an episode of their UFO series devoted to the Betty & Barney Hill case. The SyFyWire Web site reviewed the episode. (We do get Showtime but haven’t yet seen this program.)

Inside the resort’s gift shop are lots of souvenirs related to the Hills and to UFOs in general — T-shirts, commemorative mugs, bobble-headed little-green-man figurines, that sort of thing. And just up Route 3, you’ll come to the Notch Express convenience store/gas station where you can take a selfie with an alien:

Photo #5 caption: become a part of history!

We’re not sure what can possibly top this excitement, but we’ve got plenty of time to find out… Coming up next: Saratoga Springs, Schenectady, and Lake George, New York!