Allegheny Retreat

Jake's mother was from Australia and so felt qualified (despite her family's Scottish roots) to classify hot weather. If it were quite hot she would usually term it: hot as blazes; “blazes” being a British euphemism for  Hell. If it were really, really hot she would term it, rather simply but with power: beastly; “beastly” being a more profound way of saying the American “brutal.” Had she experienced the summer of 2010 in New Jersey she might have had to reach yet another level of adjective power to properly describe the misery we have endured these last few months.

It was to escape this historic summer heat that Jake set about finding some place within a reasonable driving distance that was, if not cool, at least not as blazingly beastly brutally hot as NJ. Research is a wonderful thing when one has the time and inclination, and after Googling his way through historic temperature graphs, dew point maps, topo maps, weather blogs and the like, Jake found that Bradford, PA, was consistently 10-15 degrees cooler than central NJ, and only about six hours away by car.

Jake and Stone ended up setting up their end-of-August week's HQ not in Bradford, but a little bit south of there in the tiny town of Ludlow, PA, which sits like a pin head in the Allegheny National Forest. Being told that our cell phones were of no use in this secluded glade, we decided before we left New Jersey to go completely native and left our laptop at home. Doing so freed Jake from his usual daily task of note taking, but the resultant lack of a daily record means this travelogue will not be the usual sequential spiel, but subject based instead.

The Manor at Olmsted

Lodging:  We stayed six nights at the 2 BR Carriage House on the grounds of the Olmsted Manor in Ludlow.  Olmsted is a rather unique place. When completed in 1917 it featured a grand Tudor mansion (complete with a two lane bowling alley, an apparent must-have for the rich and famous of the time) and several hundred acres of manicured gardens, terraced fountains, patios, lily ponds, tennis courts and the like. In 1969 the Olmsted family gave the Manor to the Methodist Church, and the Methodists run it today as a “retreat and renewal center” that caters to religious retreats and seminars. Luckily for heathens such as ourselves, guests are not subject to any theological test, and the only stricture placed on us was that we were asked not to drink or smoke on the premises. No cell phones, no laptop, and now no wine with dinner –  our “going native” was now so complete as to be almost Rousseauian.

Balcony Off Kitchen

The Carriage House at Olmsted is the top floor of what was once, most likely, the Manor's garage and chauffeur’s quarters across the road from the mansion. It fit our needs almost perfectly: a large living room with a cable TV that  got ESPN and the Weather Channel, a nice sized kitchen complete with all the stuff we needed to prepare meals, two good sized bedrooms and a modern bathroom. The furniture might be honestly described as “grandmotherly,” but the old time wooden doors and door frames, as well as several Tudor style windows, gave the space an unusual charm. There was even a little balcony perched off the kitchen that provided wonderful views of the Olmsted grounds and the surrounding Allegheny hills. The only negative we could find was that US Route 6 (aka: Main Street in Ludlow) runs by right outside, but there was so little traffic we were rarely bothered by any noise. And what mundane vehicular  noise we did notice was more than counter balanced by the romantic rumblings of a freight train that once in a while passed through the hills behind our backyard balcony. (See here for a distant view of the Carriage House.) But perhaps the best aspect of the Carriage House was the price: under $400 for six nights. God bless the Methodists.

PS – While Protestantism is typically connected with industry and frugality, it might be well to remember this  popular quotation from the writings of John Wesley, the English cleric and theologian who founded Methodism, which adds a third leg to make a sturdy and interesting Protestant stool: “Make all you can, save all you can, give all you can.”

Culture:  The Methodists are also responsible for our seeing Neil Sedaka and Bob Newhart. In the 1870's the Methodist Church founded, on the shores of Lake Chautauqua, NY, a summer training camp for Sunday school teachers that over the next several decades evolved into the Chautauqua movement. The Chautauqua movement was basically a further evolution of the Lyceum movement, which in the early 19th century sought to enhance adult education and entertainment in America. (Ralph Waldo Emerson made a good living giving lectures on the Lyceum circuit and Abe Lincoln is said to have honed his speaking skills at the lyceum in Springfield, IL.) During its most popular years, the Chautauqua movement had scores of outposts ranging from tents to large auditoriums throughout America. At the bigger Cahautauquas thousands would flock to the summer lectures to hear the likes of William Jennings Bryant and Mark Twain. Early on, the educational and religious tone of the movement was supplemented by popular entertainment, which brings us ultimately to Messrs Sedaka and Newhart. 

The automobile, radio and movies pretty much ended the Chautauqua movement as a force in American culture, but at the Chautauqua Institution, on the original site at Lake Chautauqua, the cultural tradition lives on in spades. During the summer months the Institution hosts scores of lectures, talks, discussions, plays, religious services and entertainment. This summer the line up of speakers included the likes of PBS's Jim Lehrer and Ken Burns, Alan Alda, the NY Times' David Brooks, Sandra Day O'Connor and the author extraordinaire, Salman Rushdie. The entertainment was just a varied, ranging from the Cleveland Jazz Orchestra to the Air Force Concert Band, and from Clay Aiken to Tom Chapin.  

On Friday night, August 27, the 5,000 seat auditorium (which has a roof but no walls, and pew-like, family style seating) was SRO for Neil Sedaka, whose voice at 71 years of age was a miracle. It was wonderful to also be reminded of all the melodic songs he has written over the years. The next night we saw the 81 year old Bob Newhart, whose impeccable comedic timing has lost nothing over the years. He did all new material, but found time for one old routine – the classic (the recording is in the Library of Congress!) “Driving Instructor.”

For us it was an easy 90 minute drive from Ludlow and the wilds of northwestern  PA to this island of high culture in the eastern finger tip of New York, and these two concerts were the highlight of our week. We're on the mailing list for next year's offerings at Chautauqua and hope to return.

PS – Jake grew up with a Chautauqua in his home town of Boulder, Colorado. When he was a lad he used to see movies in the big auditorium, a large, wooden barn of a building that housed not only the flickering light shows from Hollywood, but also the more-than-occasional family of bats, the sight of which sent many a early 1960's bouffant hairstyle shrieking to the exits. The current Boulder Chautauqua has a spectacular mountainside setting, is one of the oldest continuously operating Chautauquas in America, and features one of the best restaurants in Boulder.

Kane Country Club

Golf:  Jake managed to get in 36 holes of golf while playing three courses. On the first afternoon of our arrival in Ludlow I headed down US 6, through the town of Kane to the Kane Country Club where I played nine holes for $15.

Having not played much at all during this Summer of our Discontent, I had hoped to play alone but instead joined a threesome who were just teeing off. To add to my discomfort they all hit their drives long and straight. I manged to not lose my ball and somehow made a bogey on the straight, short (345 yds) opening hole, which gave my game more credence than it deserved.

After this one hole it was obvious that my partners were quite good and I was in over my head. It didn't help me feel less intimidated when I learned on the way to the second tee that the young guy was a 2 handicap(!), that the other guy worked in the pro shop, and that the third guy played at Kane CC about four or five times a week during the summer. Still, golf being golf, they hit some bad shots now and then, I played about as well as I can, and we all enjoyed the nine holes I shared with them.

Nine holes and about two hours of play is no basis for judging any golf course, but from what I saw, Kane CC is a good golf course kept in good condition. It is relatively short (5,944 yds) but the smallish greens that are typical of older courses (nine holes date from before WWI) are quite quick, while the generally tree-lined fairways reward straight drives but do not severely punish slightly wayward ones. The course's setting I found most appealing. Only on the first two holes do you see a car, and the rest of the course is a true walk in the park with not a house nor condo in sight. And the price is certainly right – $20 to $25 to walk the full 18 holes.

I played another nine holes at the Chautauqua Golf Club before we went to Friday evening's show. There are 36 holes at Chautauqua; I played the Lake Course nine, twilight rate, with a cart for $42, which included a small charge for Stone riding along with me. The Chautauqua GC is generally well regarded, and the atmosphere was certainly upscale yet nicely friendly, but from what little I saw of the course I doubt I'd play it again at the high rates charged.

Pine Acres Golf Course

When I next played it was beginning to get hot, even in our Allegheny enclave. On Monday morning I played 18 holes at Pine Acres, $26 to walk. Despite the heat, and the flocks of gnats (which I must admit I have never experienced in Jersey – no doubt we annihilate them with some chemical or other), I enjoyed the morning's play, especially since I had the course virtually to myself. I had heard that Pine Acres, which is the home course for the golf team from the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford, was perhaps the best course in the area, and, despite its length from the “everyman” tees (6,511 yds), it proved to be fun and was my favorite as well.

I didn't get to play what was the most intriguing golf course we saw. On the drive out we took a four mile detour to see Scottish Heights in Brockport, PA. Though it is too seriously hilly to walk and a cart is always recommended, it had wonderful vistas and looked like it would be fun to play. Next time out I hope we can make a stop there and play it.

PS – The young 2-handicapper I played with at Kane CC is on the golf team at the University of Pittsburgh at Bradford, which he (and everyone else in the area) referred to as “Pitt Brad.” In private, always in private, both Stone and Jake referred to it as Brad Pitt.

Hiking/Biking:  The Allegheny National Forest (ANF) is a hiker's paradise, but unfortunately Jake and Stone never got much of a chance to do any long walks in the woods. And besides, the Olmsted estate itself provided ample opportunity for enjoyable walking around its substantial acreage. At one edge of the estate there is a sort of trail head for a subsequent mile walk through the woods to Wild Cat Park, which is a large public park overseen by the Ludlow Community Association. This trail also gets the walker up close and personal with the freight train that rumbles virtually unseen through the forest. The train's rumbling, which seems so romantic when heard from a distance is less so when heard alone in the woods, and the steadily increasing rumble severely elevated Stone's heart rate on her first amble into the trees.

Allegheny River by Tidioute

We took two walks in the Heart's Content area of the ANF, and while neither walk was sublime, and we occasionally had to swat away gnats, it was still quite wonderful to be alone in the forest with the dappled sunshine, the scampering chipmunks, the emerald ferns, the brave mushrooms and the pervasive silence. On the way back to Ludlow we got lost, but discovered a picnic area that had several trails radiating from its parking lot, one of which ended up with a post card overlook of the Allegheny River as it flowed past the little town of Tidioute.

Originally it was thought that while Jake hiked the golf links Stone might hike some of the North Country Scenic Trail. The NCST is nothing less than a 4,600 mile trail that runs from New York to North Dakota. It makes it way briefly (only 100 miles worth!) through Pennsylvania and spends a lot of that time in the ANF. However, upon reading the notes at a trail head that warned of recent black bear sightings and cautioned hikers to use “bear awareness techniques” it was decided to try the trail next time.

Having for some time wanted to do it, Stone finally bought herself a folding bike which we took along on this trip. It is a Schwinn 20” model which we got from Amazon for about $160. Folding bikes can easily cost two or three times what we paid, but Stone has been very happy with this cheaper bike. If this bike has one drawback it is its weight – it is not light by any means. But it still folds into a carrying bag, can fit easily into half of the back seat of a car, and is not impossible for a reasonably fit middle aged woman to carry short distances. Though time and logistics didn't allow Stone to ride any section of the Chautauqua Rails to Trails, she greatly enjoyed riding her handy bike around the Olmsted estate and on the nary-a-car streets of Ludlow.

Stone & Her Bike

PS -- As President of the Overly Planned Vacation Society, Jake did note that the best view we got on all of our hikes was discovered by getting lost.


Food:  We knew this trip would afford us little in the way of memorable meals out, still we had a couple of nice experiences. Warren, PA, was about a 30 minute drive from Ludlow. It was here we had our only “fine dining” experience at the Liberty Street Cafe, which was quite nice indeed. But our favorite two meals out were breakfasts at Kimberly's Cool Beans Cafe in Bradford, where the vibe was relaxed, the coffee delicious and the breakfast a world class value. Highly recommended.

Most often we took advantage of the kitchen in our rental, finding fresh goodies to cook at the Farmer's Market in Bradford where we got some nice veggies as well as some local honey and jams. We also found some delicious peaches and grapes at one of the many roadside stands that dot seemingly every road in the area.

PS -- Man does not live by restaurants alone. 

Out & About:  Bradford, PA, is the home of Zippo lighters, and as befits this American icon, there is a Zippo Museum in town. The museum is free, is visited by thousands of people every year, and was more interesting than we anticipated. A few years ago Zippo acquired W. R. Case & Sons Cutlery, which is also headquartered in Bradford and makes the famous and much collected Case knives; the museum highlights Case also.

We also enjoyed visiting the Kane Manor Country Inn in Kane, PA, which is now a B&B. Originally it was built by General Thomas L. Kane, of Civil War fame, who helped found the town that bears his name. The owner of the inn, who gave us a little tour of the historic building he is now slowly renovating, told us that General Kane was a great friend of the Mormans, helped them settle in Utah, and that there is a statue of him in Salt Lake City.

This part of Pennsylvania is not wealthy by any measure, but it is not without its monied redoubt. Not far outside Bradford, within the ANF and on its own country road, is Glendorn. To gain entrance to the Lodge at Glendorn one must be buzzed in at the main iron gate, which swings open with seeming elegance (or is that reluctance?) to admit one's car. Glendorn is the type of place that has horseback riding, skeet shooting and Orvis guided fly fishing.  In the summer, “cabins” of four or five bedrooms can be rented for about $2,000 a day – yes, we said a day. The cuisine is Relais & Chateaux rated. The swimming pool gleams in its current emptiness and the fish hatchery is over there, off to the left. There is a “Big House” (main lodge) that has a fireplace worthy of the evil Sheriff of Nottingham, a patio of perfect flag stone, and a screened in porch that seats about a dozen for lunch or dinner. The 1,200+ acres include a trout stream and at least a half dozen trails with varied degrees of hiking difficulty. It should be noted, however, that from November through April there are several rooms available in the Big House for $199 a night, which Jake and Stone allowed themselves to dream of occupying for a night or two sometime in the off-season future.

Soon To Be in a Juice Near You

Along Lake Erie there are more than a few wineries. As is de rigueur marketing nowadays, there is even a Lake Erie Wine Trail that includes New York, Pennsylvania and Ohio wineries. We visited two of the Pennsylvania Wineries, Penn Shore and Mazza, but found no wines interesting enough to buy. However the drive along side Lake Erie, on Route 5, was most enjoyable. This NY-PA-OH area is the largest grape growing area in the eastern United States, and the mile after mile view of vineyards was like seeing corn in Iowa, only much better. However, most of the grapes (basically Concord and  Niagara) grown in this region  end up not as wine, but as products of Welch's, which is an agricultural cooperative of over 1,000 grape growers. Welch's was actually founded not in Concord, Mass, nor here near Lake Erie, but  in the 19th century in Vineland (of course!), New Jersey. Who knew?

Longhouse Rd Reservoir View

Two road trips can be recommended. One is the Longhouse Scenic Drive (aka: Forest Road 262) which runs for miles along side a fork of the Allegheny Reservoir and has several excellent views of the water. Another interesting drive that can be accomplished in under an hour is Route 666, which runs its way through the midst of the ANF but away from any towns or even hamlets. This truly rural ride follows a creek for many miles, and is so full of twists and turns that it is a favorite of the Harley-Davidson crowd, many members of which were enjoying the road also.

PS -- It is at first odd to note all the oil rigs around this neck of the woods (so to speak). It is actually not that unusual to see a rig in someone's (large) backyard. But in the late 1800's this part of Pennsylvania was enjoying an oil boom, and apparently there is still some in the ground to be found.

Weather:  Since the initial draw of this area of Pennsylvania was the cooler weather, a weather report is necessary. Bottom line: it was indeed cooler than Jersey, especially at night. One morning the temp was 47 degrees. But the Bradford area is not a guaranteed oasis. At least two of our seven days were hot by any standard, but even on those days it was noticeably cooler in the shade, which is not often the case at home. Though we didn't stay in Bradford this time, we might next time as we noticed it was even cooler in Bradford than it was in Ludlow. For the record, for the six full days we were away the high temps at home were: 82, 78, 83, 92, 93 and 95. In Bradford, the same days saw highs of: 66, 69, 76, 82, 83 and 83.

PS -- So Bradford's chamber of commerce is telling the truth when it terms itself, “The cool town with the warm heart.” We plan to return next summer, when we are sure we will need another retreat.

Other Places

Top Nine in Rochester, NY

With "Sweetness!" out of her Rochester East End apartment for a week visiting the Exotic and the Humid in Hong Kong, Stone and Jake decided to finally fulfill a promise to see not the usual suburbs of Rochester but a slice of the city itself. This summer has been miserably hot all around, but it seemed that going north couldn't hurt, and indeed it did not. It was a bit cooler and quite a bit less humid for both days. And the apt's A/C was adequate. We arrived at lunch time on Wednesday, July 14, 2010, and came back home on Friday morning. We tried to leave the car and walk as much as possible. Here, rather briefly, is our Top Nine list from this brief visit:

1.  Getting lunch items to go at the Wegman's on East Ave – a small, older store of the famous chain with some charm and the usual great selection of “to go” goodies.

2.  Our brief walk along S. Fitzhugh St. and its interesting mix of buildings in the Corn Hill nieghborhood before going on the Mary Jemison for a 90 min afternoon cruise on the Genesee River and Erie Canal. Well, "cruise" might not be the right word. It was more exactly a boat ride. But is was fun, relaxing, and interesting.

3.  Dinner at Pier 45 up on Lake Ontario. This night the beach scene is crowded (mostly due to a free concert that night) and it is not easy to park, but we enjoyed the locals with their frisbees, frisky children and lawn chairs. The restaurant itself is not immediately visible, being accessed via elevator to the second floor of a rather sad looking pavilion type building. We ate outside overlooking an inlet and the passing sailboats; food was good, wine by the glass was good, martinis were just OK. There was a good summer al fresco feel to the evening.

4.  Breakfast at Charlie's Frog Pond. Has recently changed ownership but is good as ever. Next door is Jines, sort of the go-to breakfast place for the Park Ave scene in Rochester and is very good but we wanted something less busy and lower key.

5. Walked to the George Eastman House and Museum. Peeked in quickly at the Museum's galleries, liked best the gallery with all the old cameras, but the highlight for us was a 45 min tour of Eastman's mansion which is both clever and beautiful in both its design and execution, and surprisingly liveable. Very cool.

6.  Walked to the Memorial Art Gallery for lunch at Max at the Gallery restaurant. Despite its upscale environment, the prices were reasonable and our sandwiches and salads (not to mention the homemade lemonade) were top shelf. Friendly wait staff and not crowded when we visited. Excellent.

7.  Dinner at Edibles on University Avenue. Stylish place. Good wine by the glass, good food. Can eat outside if so inclined. Gets crowded late, especially the bar scene.

8.  Walked back to the Eastman House and the Dryden Theater for a 8 pm showing of "Les Demoiselles De Rochefort" (don't worry, we'd never heard of the movie either), a French musical directed by Jacques Remy, which was fun to see. The Dryden is an “art theater” (the theater includes a little lectern where more often than not that night's movie is briefly introduced) but its range of cinematic offerings is truly wide and not exclusively for the film buff. With a new movie almost every night at  $7 a ticket it's always a good deal.

9.  As we walked along University Ave in this (artsy) neighborhood we also discovered a wonderful creative crafts shop called Craft Company No. 6 and the indulgence of late night nibbles at a little place called Chocolate and Vines.

Other Places

A Paradise Lite

Jake and Stone had been to Jekyll Island back in the pre-blog days of early 2008 on our way down to Florida to visit our old friends, the Farles, who were being held captive in Hollywood, FL, by the collapsing real estate market. On our drive down we stayed two nights in Jekyll and liked it so much we vowed to come back for a longer visit. Two years later we did so.

Thursday, January 21, 2010 – Our ride down from Jersey to Washington, DC, proves to be surprisingly easy. We rendezvous with our old DC pals, Da Labetts, and the previously mentioned Farles, for dinner at the Carlyle in the DC suburb of Shirlington. When we parked in the garage nearest the restaurant we parked in one of the many spots reserved for “The MacNeil/Lehrer Report: 9am-5pm.” And sure enough, WNET was right across the street, where they are apparently in no hurry to repaint the reservations with the updated “NewsHour” name.

Our meal was a wonderful all-around experience – great food, good wine, good service, and a stylish atmosphere. The crowd was typically DC, which meant it was hard to find anyone over 30 years old. And it was busy. It seems that in DC they have yet to hear about the recession. The dinner was a terrific way to start this vacation, that celebrates our 30th anniversary, with two other couples so happily married for almost as long. God bless us, everyone.

Friday, January 22, 2010 – We breakfast at a suburban DC diner called the Music Box and again we are six in number. But here Mrs Da L (who had to work, poor dear) has been replaced by the Farles’ son who will soon begin work in DC as a lawyer. After eggs and ham, and hugs and goodbyes, we hit the road aiming for Lexington, VA. The drive is rainy and cool, with some trees actually frosted by twinkling ice.

In Lexington we have some soup at a little bakery on Washington Street, then walk over to the campus of Washington and Lee University for a tour of Lee Chapel and Museum, which we can highly recommend. Highlights: the early portrait of a young George Washington by Peale that hangs on the left side of the chapel, the recumbent statue of Lee which dominates the scene, the concise museum downstairs, and finally, the Lee family crypt. This chapel -- which is not really a chapel in the usual sense, having no religious or denominational connection -- serves as a reminder of the religiosity that marked the Civil War, since it could be argued that Robert E. Lee lies in the crypt below the chapel in the same manner and for the same reasons that Popes are interred in the Vatican Grotto.
But then again, this is Virginia, not Rome, and it should be noted that outside the chapel, near the crypt doors as a matter of fact, one can visit another marked interment: that of General Lee’s horse, Traveller.

We spend the night at the Kerr House B&B in Statesville, NC. Unlike DC, here there is a recession. The restaurant we wanted to go to has closed, as has the music place we had hoped to frequent after dinner. At least the B&B proves to be quite nice (though up for sale!) and we get a good night’s sleep.

Saturday, January 23, 2010 – After a good breakfast and a friendly chat with the B&B owners we head down toward Walterboro, SC, which bills itself as “The Front Porch of the Low Country.” In the attractive historic area of town we drop into the Downtown Books and Espresso for a light lunch of coffee and pastry. Two elderly women sit and knit at one of the communal tables; we ask if we can join them, they say "of course."

One of the best reasons to travel is to realize your own presumptions. We had sat down thinking we would find little in common with these two old, small town women and their knitting. Well, turns out they had just come back from a vacation themselves – to Peru! They talked of sharing some local “brew” with almost toothless native men in a dirt floored café of sorts, of hiking around Machu Picchu, and of para-gliding(!) off the cliffs of Lima. It all made Jekyll Island seem rather tame. Still we had a wonderful time talking with them, and realized what we would realize again and again on this trip – that down here conversation comes easily.

We get to Jekyll at 4pm, get the keys to our 2 BR duplex, and move in, all before dark. Down here just above Florida there is at least one more hour of daylight than back home. We want to make it over to the Jekyll Island Club Hotel while there is still light, for we know from previous experience that the Club’s sprawling grounds can be difficult to navigate after dark.

We make it to one of the hotel's several eateries, Vincent’s Pub, just as happy hour is ending, which is good, because it opens up some seats in this intimate place. We toast our first night in Jekyll with a couple of martinis, then order some crab cakes and a burger from the room service menu, despite the 20% service charge. Though happy hour has expired, several southern male aristocrats are still seriously in the spirit of the hour(s) past, but we find charm in their bluster, thanks to their accents and our martinis.

Just outside Vincent’s and up one level is the hotel’s in-house deli where we get some java and croissants to go. Even at night the grounds of this grand old place, once the exclusive haunt of millionaires, are quietly enchanting. Our walk back to the car, amidst the quiet demi-dark of palm trees and formal gardens, seems magical, but looming as well. But once back in our simple but sweet 2BR place all that truly looms is a good night’s sleep.

Sunday, January 24, 2010 – Bike rental for the two of us for what’s left of the week is about $100. We take the bikes for a little exploratory ride down to the beach via King Avenue where we see way more birds than people. We do some food shopping at the little grocery store in the strip mall that is the only serious retail on the island. Today’s temp is perfect for us: 61 degrees.

Stone drops Jake off for some windy golf at Great Dunes, an interesting 9-holer that dates from 1926 and costs but $10 to walk. The layout is basically links-like, except for the occasional stand of wind-blown trees, and the grass is all brown (dormant, Jake guesses) except for the greens, which range in size from small to micro. In fact, Jake stepped off the two axises of the the circular 9th green and they each measured 16 paces. While Jake fights the wind and his game, Stone drives around a bit, visiting the sea turtle center and finding a close-in parking spot for our next visit to the hotel. Back at the ranch/duplex we do some lunch, some napping, some reading, and then it is time for dinner and a DVD movie.

Monday, January 25, 2010 – Stone says Jake slept trough a major thunderstorm last night and on Jake’s morning bike ride to get a newspaper the evidence of the downpour is everywhere. Puddles dot the bike trail, and the broad and empty beach looks newly washed, with nary a footprint marring its plaster like sand.

Besides Great Dunes, Jekyll has three 18-hole golf courses, but today Oleander is closed because it is too wet to play. The starter suggests Indian Mound where, even though it is sunny and prime golf time (10 am) Jake tees off alone. The course has brown fairways, is very wet and the wind is quite stiff most of the time, but the sky is sun-filled and for $26 to walk it's one heck of a deal. There is no extra charge for seeing a rather large turtle (at least by Jersey standards) and several herons. Stone spends the morning biking and walking along the beach. We both need some nap time after our lunch back in the duplex.

When we were here before we had a good meal at Coastal Kitchen so we go then again tonight for dinner; we are not disappointed. This classy restaurant, right off the causeway on the way to St. Simons Island, features a large list of wine by the glass and great seafood, including fresh, wild Georgia shrimp.

After dinner we drive into St. Simons looking for the movie theater that seems so easy to find on Google maps. Alas, we get lost in a maze of malls that would do Jersey proud, and are about to give up when we spot a small sign that saves the night. We catch the last show of the night, “Sherlock Holmes,” which gets out at about midnight. Rather than risk another mall maze we see a sign for I-95 and know our way from there, so we take the Interstate home.

Tuesday, January 26, 2010 -- Jake bikes into the strip mall again for the morning paper. The day is sunny and breezy. The ocean along the bike path is much calmer than yesterday and several people walk the sand. After breakfast we two take a beach walk. After our walk we visit the Georgia Sea Turtle Center and its attached turtle hospital, which proves quite interesting. We had hoped to have lunch at the Crane Cottage but it is closed, so we walk over to Latitude 31, but they are not doing lunch either. We end up at Morgan’s Grill at the golf course(s), which serves surprisingly good golfer food.

Since tonight is our anniversary night we go upscale to Halyards restaurant on St. Simons Island. The drinks and wine are first rate. Stone’s Chilean sea bass is wonderful, as is Jake’s blue fin tuna salad. Finding out that it is our anniversary they give us a free dessert. It all makes for a memorable evening and we don’t even get lost going home.

Wednesday, January 27, 2010 – Another day of sunshine and temps (eventually) in the low 60’s. Did somebody say perfect? We do breakfast at Morgan's before Jake does another 18 holes, this time on Pine Lakes. Jake plays with a friendly married couple who summer in Maine and winter down here. The green fairways (different type of grass?) give Pine Lakes a better look than Indian Mound, and the course is surprising dry, giving a good run to drives that fine the generous fairways.

Stone does a long bike ride of around 10 miles, heading up to the northern end of Jekyll Island and back. Along the way she discovers some gift shops, marsh lands with lots of birds, the historic Horton House and an equally historic cemetery.

As the afternoon lengthens, we head over to the hotel, which is on the western side of this small island (Jekyll must be only about 1.5 miles wide in most places) in hopes of seeing the sunset. At the Lobby Bar (which was featured in the movie, “The Legend of Bagger Vance”) we get our drinks, then find some seats on the veranda overlooking the sculptured lawns, the palms trees, the walking paths, and the developing sunset over the small river that separates Jekyll from mainland Georgia. There are maybe half a dozen other people on the veranda. We all fall into easy conversation as the sun sets, the sky ribbons itself in purplish rust, and another wonderful day on Jekyll slips into darkness.

Thursday, January 27, 2010 – Stone is eager to show Jake what she discovered on yesterday’s bike ride, so off we go on the main bike path north. Last night on the veranda we were told not to miss Driftwood Beach, which is on the northern part of the island, and indeed to day we find it just off the bike path through a set of trees. Driftwood Beach is littered with giant trees, apparently washed up during Hurricane Hugo. No wonder it is the most photographed place on a very picturesque island. Along the beach we find some sand dollars that are still alive and some unusual shells, including welks, one with the little animal still inside!

The bike trail then heads into a vast marshland where herons and egrets stalk the muddy rivulets with patience and a ballet-like tempo that can be mesmerizing to watch. At the top of the island there is a fishing pier and a picnic area. Then we bike down the west side of Jekyll, curving through miles of high trees that drip Spanish moss almost ostentatiously, as if each tree were trying to out festoon its neighbor.

Back down near the hotel we ride on Old Plantation Road to the Crane Cottage (built in 1919 by one of Jekyll’s millionaire families), where after a comfortable 15 minute wait in the cottage’s “living room,” (made more comfortable by a waitress taking our drink order) we have an alfresco lunch aside the cottage’s center courtyard and loggia (this millionaire had a thing for Italian architecture); delightful in every way.

Later in the day, around 4:30, when it’s safe to say hardly anyone will be on the golf courses, Jake finally gets Stone to join him in hitting and then chasing the little white ball around the landscaping. We have a wonderful time by ourselves on the Oleander course, which is now open for play but still quite wet. We end up having only time for seven holes before darkness sets in, but during our good-walk-not-spoiled we see a family of deer and a lone bald eagle, hear an owl hoot from somewhere in the gloaming, and watch the almost full moon harden into view above the pine trees, tall guardians of this bit of Nature.

Friday, January 29, 2010 – This morning both of us bike for the paper, and as we pass the beach we spot four or five dolphins less than 100 yards off shore; quite thrilling for us. While watching the dolphins we meet a guy from Florida (he is not particularly impressed by the dolphins’ presence – he says sees them all the time where he lives) who used to live on St. Simons. Again we fall into easy conversation about this and that, and he ends up giving us some local recommendations for food on St. Simons: Barbara Jean's for crab cakes, Sweet Mama’s for breakfast and the 4th of May for just good local food.

While Stone spends the day reading and biking and walking, it’s another golf day for Jake. He plays on Pine Lakes again, with another husband and wife duo, this time from North Carolina. Jake enjoys the round, which includes a baby alligator sighting, yet finds that the golf on Jekyll has not all that he had hoped. Perhaps his hopes had been too high. The golf is plentiful and cheap, but he found the 18-holers to be without much personality, and with few memorable holes. In fact, the Great Dunes Nine had the most memorable hole: #5: a 466 yard par 5 that ends with a pur-blind shot to a seriously elevated mini green that overlooks the ocean.

We do an early dinner, do the packing for tomorrow’s leaving, and watch another DVD movie. Outside, our near week of perfect weather (ever day sunny, usually a breeze, mornings in the 40’s, highs near 60) seems about to change. The evening’s sky is full of scudding clouds, the moon rises and then disappears behind a bank of pearly, soon to be charcoal, clouds. On a final check before bedtime, raindrops begin to dot the sidewalk.

Saturday, January 30, 2010 – Rainy but a balmy 57 degrees as we drop off the duplex keys and head back north. Our weather continues to be rainy but is not problematic till just outside Fayetteville, NC, where I-95 slows down due to ice and snow. We pull into Dunn, NC, to find the town beginning to shut down, virtually paralyzed by what is a major ice storm. On the main street we find a fast food place that remains open and have what passes for lunch. We are there a good half hour and all the while not another soul enters the place.

Worried that dinner in town will be impossible, we ask where we might buy provisions and are directed to Wal-Mart where we get some nice snacks and two good looking salad platters. When we arrive at our B&B – it is only a couple of blocks off the main street (which seems to be the only plowed street around) and we are one of the few cars on the road which makes driving on the ice and snow a lot easier – our hosts are kind enough to invite us to dinner that night with them and two other couples who live within walking distance. We offer our salads and a bottle of wine as our contribution to dinner, then go up to our room delighted with our good luck.

The dinner is everything a good dinner party should be – good food, good drinks, good people. Jake and Stone are both put immediately at ease, and we both revel in the dinner conversation that ranges from local politics, neighbors, and the history of Dunn, to more worldly affairs – and those southern accents as well!

After such a dinner it should go without saying that this B&B in Dunn is on our highly recommended list, but even if the storm had not occasioned such generosity from our hosts, we would still think that the Simply Divine B&B simply lives up to its name. The bedrooms are large and smartly decorated, the parlors are several and comfortable, and throughout the house, which dates from 1906, there is a pervading sense of quality and pride. And the price was divine, too.

Sunday, January 31, 2010 – The drive north from Dunn on I-95 is slow going at first. After our first 2 hours we had gone only 60 miles. But then things got better and once we hit Virginia it was pretty much clear sailing all the way to Washington, DC – or more specifically, Alexandria, VA.

We checked into the Morrison House in the Old Town part of Alexandria, where somehow we had gotten a room for under $200 total – including taxes and valet parking. We feared such a luxury place might be a little snooty, but everyone on the staff was friendly and helpful, and what few patrons we saw seemed normal enough. Everything was just about perfect – from the plush bathrobes to the free wine hour – except for the WiFi. Why such a “luxury boutique hotel,” has such a Byzantine wireless sign-up process is baffling. We ended up doing without the service. But just to get even, Jake wears his plush bathrobe as often as possible.

We didn't have much time to explore the area, and the foot travel was made difficult by the often still not-shoveled snow on the narrow sidewalks, but we did discover an interesting place for coffee: Misha's Coffee Roaster Coffeehouse. Misha's is the opposite of elegant, but with art on the walls, coffee bean bags lying about, and a variety of clientele, it is its own kind of scene and worth a visit.

Down King Street, about a 10 minute walk from our hotel, is Brabo restaurant, where we meet a couple we became friends with recently and who live in the DC area. We hadn’t seen each other in some time and it was great seeing them again. Brabo is a fairly new restaurant and we hoped it would live up to its generally rave reviews. Well, it did. The room is elegant without being stuffy, the service both friendly and impeccable, the wine affordable, and the menu so enticing that we all had to ask for more time to decide what to eat. At the end of the night we all agreed the evening had been – well, great.

Monday, February 1, 2010 – On the way home, which took us but 3 hours from the hotel to exit 9 on the Dear Old Jersey Pike(!), we reviewed Jekyll to see if we might go again. The weather, the golf, the biking, the walking, the ocean, and the (sea)food, had mostly met or surpassed our expectations. Indeed, our week in Jekyll had turned out to be a sort of toned down version of our month in Sequim, WA, which we consider our summer paradise. We could never spend a month in Jekyll as we did in Sequim, but for a winter’s week (or maybe two weeks, next year) it certainly turned out to be a Paradise Lite.

Other Places

Midwestern Zen

Thursday, October 1, 2009 – Growing up in the bucolic wilds of Colorado in the 1950’s and 60’s, Jake had three sporting “someday dreams.” Someday he would sit in Yankee Stadium, someday he would attend a World Series game, and someday he would go to a Notre Dame football game. Life was good enough to him that the first two “somedays” came true within a few years of moving to New York City, but Notre Dame proved elusive – until this weekend.

Thanks to the generosity of a Notre Dame alum, Jake and Theresa were assured tickets to Notre Dame v. Washington on October 3, in South Bend, Indiana. All we had to do was get there. As we have noted before, one of the best things about being retired is that we have the time to drive places that in the past we would have had to fly to because of limited vacation days or other time restraints. It’s a long drive from dear old Jersey to the bucolic wilds of Indiana, so we decided to rest our elderly Honda and rented a car.

After our traditional pre-trip stop at the local Dunkin’ on Route 18, we headed west on the great American vehicular river system known as the Interstate System. We stopped first for soup and sandwiches in the picturesque town of Bellefonte, PA. Cool Beans Coffee & Tea provided us with just what we needed – a quick and tasty lunch served in a homey, coffee shop atmosphere that included the requisite locals hunched over their laptops, mothers with free range toddlers and lots of couches and chairs.

A 30 minute walk after lunch gave us a glimpse of Bellefonte, which bills itself as full of “Victorian charm,” and we didn’t see anything to discredit the claim. Bellefonte brims with B&B’s, and seems connected at the financial hip with nearby Penn State University. The helpful visitors center is in Talleyrand Park, which also features a pretty gazebo, a restored railway station, and a foot bridge over a nicely flowing creek populated by the usual ducks and the less usual trout.

The continuing drive west on I-80 through western Pennsylvania was quite nice. Fall colors were manifest at the higher elevations and the rolling hills made the drive easy on both driver and passenger. Just before reaching the Ohio border we stopped at the Holiday Inn Express in Sharon, PA. This HIE is an award winner, and it proved to be worthy of its accolades.

It also happens to be right next door to the Tam O’Shanter Golf Course. Jake convinced Stone to join him for a late day, relaxed 9-holes with just us and our cart ($27, total!), and we had a very nice time chasing our golf balls around this friendly, country-setting course.

For dinner we drove about 10 minutes up the road to Hermitage, PA, where we had a very nice time at the Hickory Bar and Grille, where the stuffed wildlife on the walls belies a rather sophisticated menu. We had expected western Pennsylvania to be inexpensive, but get this: two appetizers, two salads, two drinks and a tip: $41.

Friday, October 2, 2009 – Leaving the rolling hills of Western Pennsylvania behind, I-80 lead us quickly into Ohio where just west of Cleveland I-90 flows in, making it I-80/90. Outside Toledo we stopped at Schlotzsky’s Deli, just five minutes off the highway. The franchise slogan is “funny name, serious sandwich,” and it proved to be true. Jake’s sandwich, termed “The Original,” was especially delicious.

We noted that though this sandwich shop was like many you might find back home, here all the employees seemed happy in their work. The guy who called out the order number on the PA system was in such a good mood that he sang the number into the mic. And when we left, the cashier, though helping another customer, bid us an honest and hearty goodbye. This was our first noting of what we termed “the Midwest vibe,” which we noted time and again at gas stations, at shops, at parking lots, at B&B’s, and at the football game itself. Though hard to describe in its various manifestations, this attitude seems based on a happy acceptance of the here and now, even if the here and now is sometimes rather bleak. It’s as if seemingly everyone really believes those bumper stickers that say, “Life is Good.” We felt a little envious of such a sensibility, this sort of Midwestern Zen.

The drive though the rest of Ohio and all of Indiana proved to be as flat as Western Pennsylvania was hilly, but there were iconic rural scenes of farmhouses and silos, and the sky seemed to stretch over everything with an enormity we were not used to. Even the weather seemed bigger. Rain and sun came and went like actors on a stage, and when we stopped to fill up with gas the wind whipped our clothes as it tore over the flat landscape, seeming to come from the distant horizon on a special mission of force.

Like Augusta, Georgia, during the Masters, South Bend has it price gouging on Notre Dame football weekends. Several weeks ago Jake had called some chain place in South Bend, like a Microtel, and was told that for a room with a double bed it would be $375 a night, two night minimum, and though all the rooms were taken, the waiting list was still open.

We ended up booking a room at a B&B in Union Pier, Michigan, just across the border form Indiana and only about 40 minutes from South Bend. The Garden Grove B&B has much to recommend it, but for us, besides its being relatively close to South Bend, its proximity to Lake Michigan was its main draw. We had time after we checked in to do a little exploring. We had hoped to do so by the available bikes, but the weather was iffy at best and still quite windy, so we went by car.

We discovered several “private communities” set along the lakefront. Many of the homes were multi-million dollar places with a Mercedes in the double driveway, but there were some older cottages that hearkened back to the time when these Union Pier neighborhoods were summer getaways for “regular folk,” and here and there among the usual luxury we spotted a community basketball hoop or a children’s playground. It was quite interesting.

We found a public beach at the next town down the lake, New Buffalo. We parked in the empty parking lot and walked the deserted shoreline in the on-and-off rain. It was just us and the seagulls, which were hunkered down against the wind like an army at forced rest. The beach scene was shuttered post season; the day was overcast, rainy and breezy; and the lake was white-capped gray, slightly ominous and downright oceanic. Quite wonderful. Back at the B&B our room seemed especially cozy.

Dinner that night was at the upscale Timothy’s, perhaps only a half mile from the B&B. The room was nicely appointed in a lodge-like atmosphere, the drinks were good and the service was casually efficient. Stone’s mussels were a bit disappointing but Jake’s perch sandwich was very tasty. Though probably not worth the money, Timothy’s provided us with a pleasant evening. On the way back to the B&B we stopped in at Bud and Elsie’s, which was a sort of convenience/grocery/liquor store where we got some coffee to go and bought some bottles of Tabor Hill wine, a local winery we had hoped to visit but never had time for. The coffee was fine, while the wine still awaits consumption.

Saturday, October 3, 2009 – Kick-off for the game was at 3:30, but we left early, wanting to see as much of the campus and hoopla as possible. A little before 10 AM we pulled into our parking area – White North, $20 a car – and then caught a shuttle bus into the campus. The bus driver was the first that day, but hardly the last, to say “Welcome to Notre Dame.” As the bus was filling up somebody said, “Hey, don’t let that guy with the Michigan jacket on.”

The shuttle dropped us off next to the Hesburgh Library and its impressive mural nicknamed “Touchdown Jesus.” Somewhat ironically (or perhaps not) this world class library was built on the old Notre Dame football field. We, and scores of other bus riders, went inside to use the bathrooms. Though the library was closed (football Saturday, you know) Jake noticed a student checking out a good half dozen books via one of several electronic scanners. The weather was sketchy at best, but the campus was full of people and memorable vignettes.

-- The Leprechaun and his cheerleaders jogging around eliciting cheers and chants from the faithful.
-- Many people having their picture taken by the Knute Rockne statue, including several Washington Huskies fans.
-- The ND Bagpipe Band holding forth in grand style on the steps of the Main Building.
-- The signs on ND stadium that tells fans to evidence good sportsmanship, and reminds everyone that alcohol and smoking are both not allowed in the stadium.
-- Here and there on the large, grassy quads of this large, grassy campus, students hawk game day food and soda, often with the aid of a step ladder and bull horn. Dorms have their tables set up, as do many campus groups – the ice skating team, for example. We bought a couple of hot dogs from the ND Chorale, who then harmonized a little song as a thank you.
-- As if in a public service spot for “traditional American values,” numerous families tossed footballs to one another amid cries of, “Go deep!”

Besides the Hesburgh Library there are two other iconic buildings on campus: Main Building (with its famous Golden Dome) and the Basilica of the Sacred Heart (where the team celebrates Mass before each game and the "go to" place for alum weddings.) The Basilica was as beautiful as many we saw in Italy (though not nearly as big), and the Main Building, with its fabulous dome and striking rotunda, not to mention its overall feeling of history and tradition, could easily justify a visit of several hours. But the rest of the campus – though large, green, immaculate and dotted with both art work and historic statues – left us slightly underwhelmed. Perhaps it was simply the flat topography of the land that made us miss the rolling hills of many campuses back east.

Certainly the campuses back east would have a hard time matching the tailgating that we experienced as we walked amid the acres of close-in parking looking for our rendezvous spot with our ND Alum friend. We had to wonder, surveying a scene that was part carnival, part tribal gathering, and all party, if all these good folk were here for football or for something else. (It is to the University’s credit that tailgating is outlawed once the game begins.) There were tents of all sizes and more BBQ’s than you could shake a BBQ fork at, flat screen TV’s being watched in the back of vans and pickup trucks, a school bus painted in ND blue and gold, bare card tables with paper plates next to picnic tables set with china, fine linen and lamps. And of course there was food and beer sufficient to feed the multitudes when Jesus returns to earth to mark the New Jerusalem and the final touchdown.

There were also truly hundreds of people playing a game of bean bag toss, which was like horseshoes but with bean bags. The bags were tossed toward a small, tilted platform with a hole in the top center, which apparently was the ultimate target. Several styles of tossing were in vogue, but each toss seemed to demand the concentration and focus of a British dart tournament. Neither Jake nor Stone had ever seen this style of bean bag game before and its pervasive appeal eluded us both. We decided it must be some Midwestern vibe to which we could not tune in.

We met our ND Alum friend in the NBC hospitality tent on the southern end of the campus. (He works for GE, which owns NBC, which televises all Notre Dame home games.) Being verified on the guest list we got our special passes and lanyards, then entered the tent, which was almost worthy in size to what Muammar al-Qaddafi wanted to pitch recently in Westchester County. The food was plentiful and free, as were the beer and wine and drinks. We passed a lovely hour or so hobnobbing with other “invitees,” who ranged from GE big shots to regular folk like us. It felt special to be special.

We arrived at the game early so as not to miss anything, for there is a lot to see and hear. There is much ceremony before each Notre Dame home game, from the solemn presenting of the colors and the singing of “God Bless America,” “Notre Dame Our Mother,” and the “Victory March,”to the band ending its pre-game show by spelling out IRISH on the field as the crowd roars its approval. The stadium itself is very old school. Ninety percent of the seats are bleacher like with your seat number stenciled on the weathered wood. The field is grass, there are no advertising signs, and there is not a bad seat in the house – and it’s a big house.

The football game itself was not expertly played (few early season college games are), but it proved to be very exciting and drama filled, including key play results being reversed by video review, a “never seen before” double goal line stand by the Irish, brilliant passing by the Huskies’ Jake Locker, equally brilliant play by Notre Dames Golden (even a better first name than Jake!) Tate, and an Over Time victory for the Irish, 37-30. It hardly mattered that at the begging of the second half the stadium was drenched in rain. The game itself, combined with all the atmosphere – the student section (which by the way stands for the entire game) shouting their choreographed cheers and raising each other in the air for “push-ups,” the wonderful half time show, the band playing the “Victory March” ad naseum, the Irish Guard in their kilts on the sidelines, and the noise of 80,000 people in full throat all combined to surpass even Jake’s expectations of what it would be like to attend a football game in Notre Dame Stadium.

After the game we met with our ticket benefactor at the Hesburgh Library and had a very nice chat over coffee and tea at the Huddle Food Court in the LaFortune Student Center. After a bit of a wait on line for the shuttle back to our parking spot, we drove back to our B&B area, and had a good late night snack and beer at The Stray Dog in New Buffalo. The bar’s TVs were awash with late night college football. We went back to our B&B room to sleep the sleep of the fortunate. Hey, life is good.

Sunday, October 4, 2009 – B&B’s have basically two ways to serve breakfast: either at a large communal table or at individual tables set for two, or sometimes four. We have found both arrangements agreeable, but this morning we are glad to have a table for two in the little enclosed porch, and enjoy our breakfast while remembering the thrills of yesterday’s adventure.

The drive back eastward was complicated by an early rain storm, but it soon cleared up, and things went smoothly enough. As I-80/90 rolls through Indiana and Ohio it is much like any other Interstate highway – except perhaps that you pay for the pleasure in both states– but in Ohio we experienced several travel plazas that were the best we’d ever seen. Architecturally pleasant from the road and inside as well, they featured a pristine cleanliness, an airy food court with comfortable seats, a helpful visitors center, and the pervasive Midwestern happy employees. Lunch at Panera Bread in such a setting was both tasty and enjoyable.

We pulled into the Terra Nova B&B in Grove City, PA, at about 4:00 pm. After checking in we went for a stroll through the neighborhood, which seemed to be in one of the older parts of town and had a variety of homes – some a bit sad around the edges and others that featured immaculate landscaping. It was striking to see how many of the homes had flags or banners or something that showed the owners to be Steelers fans.

We had thought we might have trouble finding a place to eat on this Sunday night in small-town western PA, but our hosts had a wide collection of local menus and we settled on the Springfield Grille in nearby Mercer, PA. The parking lot was full when we pulled in and when we got inside we could see why. The Springfield Grille is an attractive place (where even the obligatory stuffed wildlife, in this case an impressive moose, seems just right) with all that we needed for a good dinner: friendly service, good drinks, and a nice menu with cheap prices. When our waitress told us that the appetizers were half priced on Sunday nights, we ordered exclusively from the app menu: bruschetta, an iced crab dish served in a martini glass, a couple of large seared scallops, chopped porcini mushrooms wrapped in little pasta “purses,” and some great grilled lamb. Jake had his usual Rusty Nail; Stone her usual glass of Cabernet. We had coffee. We had to leave a 25% tip so that the bill would be at least be $50. Wow.

Monday, October 5, 2009 – Breakfast at our B&B -- a baked pear in custard sauce, sausage and blueberry pancakes -- was delicious, and provided further evidence of this B&B’s award winning ways. And at $99 for the night, it was another indication of the bargains to be found west – way west – of Philadelphia. It's too bad that Barry and Sandy, the B&B owners are looking to sell, but hopefully whoever buys the place will carry on the good work.

On our drive home we stopped for gas and snacks at Jersey Shore. No, not that Jersey Shore. The little town of Jersey Shore, PA. And not really the town either, just a gas station near the Jersey Shore Exit off the interstate. The cashier was nice, but evidenced little of that magical “Life is Good,” sensibility. We were obviously getting closer to home.

Other Places

Halifaxsimile

Circumstances (read: the usual suspects -- time and money) having prevented another return to Sequim this summer, Stone took Figlia with her to visit Old Friend Maid of Honor in New Hampshire for a few days, while Jake took flight for a late July week in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Jake knew he would not exactly replicate Sequim, but hoped Halifax might provide a reasonable facsimile.

Seeking cheap single digs, I found residence at a “residence hall” – Risley Hall, to be exact, at Dalhousie University. My dorm room was just that, and nothing more, but at $250 for the week (senior rate!) it was an excellent value. Once I got used to the unisex bathroom and showers, and the occasional late night student noise, things went well enough, until the lack of A/C finally…. but more on that anon.

Friday, July 24, 2009 – Having been seriously delayed with my Thursday afternoon flight out of Newark, today was my first day in Halifax. I awoke after only a few hours sleep to find the morning cool, overcast and misting rain – an excellent start. Though I have rented a car, I plan to walk as much as possible, and started out down one of Halifax’s arteries, Spring Garden Road. I had an average breakfast at a place called Smitty’s, then took a look at St. Mary’s Cathedral Basilica (the pope was there, you know), the Halifax Courthouse (19th century architecture), the Halifax Public Library (a dynamic statue of Winston Churchill on the front grounds) and walked briefly through a section of the stately and lovely Public Gardens (British gardening, please stay off the grass), all on Spring Garden Road. Still on SGR I had a terrific lunch at the Saege Bistro, where I enjoyed a deep bowl of seafood chowder, warm spinach salad and some good local pinot grigio.

After lunch the weather turned truly rainy, so I found shelter at a movie-plex (still on SGR), where after 28 minutes of previews (I timed it), I sat through the more than 2 hours of “Public Enemies.” My affinity for Johnny Depp’s acting couldn’t help me from thinking that the whole movie was just a realistic version of the Coen brothers’ “Miller’s Crossing,” both of the movies being so centered on men in hats.

Outside the theater wind had been added to the previous rain, so I hustled on back to Dalhousie, got in the car and headed to a place I remembered from my first visit to Nova Scotia some 30 years ago as being especially picturesque in the wind and rain – Peggy’s Cove. Usually packed with tourists, the now lonely lighthouse, rugged granite shoreline and white-capped sea made for a scene perfectly in tune with the heavy maritime weather.

The wind and rain had not abated when back in Halifax I easily found a parking spot (is it the weather?) and had a light dinner at the bar at the rather fancy Gio in the Prince George Hotel. Here the seafood chowder was once again wonderful, this time highlighted by mussels still in their just-opened shells. My dessert – the whimsically named “I’m jonesing for…” – was a nice variety of tasty treats.

Risley Hall sits very close to Wickwire Field, where, on my way back to my dorm room from the parking lot, I noticed a late night soccer game going on despite the wind driven sheets of rain. There being less than a dozen spectators, I watched for a while from the sideline, my first “serious” soccer game up close and personal. Even with my limited knowledge of the game I could see that these college kids were very skilled players. I found out subsequently that what I watched was not the Dalhousie Tigers versus some other university, but rather two teams from the Eastlink Premiership Men’s Division. I went to sleep that night in my single dorm bed thinking that Landon Donovan and his mates notwithstanding, it seemed unlikely that soccer would ever be so pervasive and passionate down south in the USA.

Saturday, July 25, 2009 – Having seen a little ad in the newspaper for “Tastes of the Valley” at a weekly farmers market in a nearby town, I headed out of Halifax on Highway 101 towards Wolfville. As I approached the town I noticed that the surrounding riverbeds, inlets and such appeared to be recently and violently drained. It took me a few minutes to realize that Wolfville, though not really directly on the Bay of Fundy, was still close enough to bear witness to the bay’s world famous tides, and I marveled at what looked to be at least a 20 foot drop in the water level clearly visible from the highway.

The Wolfville Farmers’ Market was crowded and fun. Besides the usual rural offerings of gluten free bread and organic tomatoes, local restaurants from the Annapolis Valley were cooking up some goodies at $3 a pop. I tried a beef/lamb burger with some type of garlic mixed in, a glass of red wine (to go with the burger) from Muir Murray Winery, and a Raspberry Sensation dessert from Between the Bushes Restaurant. I also snacked on a large cup of nice local cherries ($1) washed down by a mini bottle of apple cider ($1.75) pressed from “little Macs,” by a guy to whom apple pressing seemed a sort of religion.

The music was better than usual at these types of events. It was provided by TripALady, who bill themselves as a “Fiddle-Riffin', Djembe-Thumpin', Harmony-Pumpin', Dance-Pop Acoustic Rock Band,” and for the several songs I listened to, they lived up to the phrase. And don’t you just love their logo? Their version of “Sweet Dream Are Made of This,” sounded even better than this video.

The local tourist office told me of a golf club down the road called Ken-Wo (etymology: it’s between Wolfville and Kentville), and despite it being early Saturday afternoon I was able to walk on and play 9 holes for $25. I joined three young Canadian dudes, who on the second tee told me not to mind them lighting up “some of Canada’s finest,” as they passed around a joint. Not something you’re likely to witness on my local Jersey course. Nor are you likely to see a bald eagle, which soared off to our right as we walked the fairway of No. 7. And I didn’t see a power cart all day. Nor a house, nor a condo, nor a car. I didn’t just like this course, I loved it. As usual this week, I didn’t have my camera when I needed it, but check the photo gallery to get an idea.

After we finished No. 9 and the boys headed on to the back side, I asked them what beer I should get at the clubhouse, and they answered in unison, “A Keith’s, of course.” Of course. I don’t remember what I had to eat in the clubhouse but the Keith’s was so good I drank no other beer the entire week.

That night I went to the Lower Deck Beer Market down by the water and the tourists in Halifax. I had some chowder and salad again, as well as two 10 oz tugs of Keith’s, and talked some baseball with the bartender as the Red Sox were on TV. It being Saturday night the place got crowded and noisy rather quickly, and I headed outside where I got some coffee and pastry. I sat by the water watching the Dartmouth/Halifax ferry shuttle people across a narrow part of the world’s second biggest harbor. Tourists took pictures in the fading light, bachelorette parties wobbled by trying to have fun, and panhandlers flitted like moths between the flames of hoped for easy touches. After such a scene, my 40 minute walk back to the dorm, once out of the harbor area, seemed eerily serene.

Sunday, July 25, 2009 -- Oh, how the Haligonians (as the city’s natives sometimes term themselves) all love a day like today: sunny and warm. To me the sun just seems relentless. It makes me skip from shade to shade as I take the 2 kilometer walk from my dorm northward on Robie Street towards Jane’s on the Common for breakfast. Luckily the breakfast – an omelet with herbed goat cheese, pancetta and sun dried tomatoes, accompanied by two cranberry mimosas, and topped off by a coconut cream tart – makes the sunny trek more than worthwhile. Jane’s proves to be a small, snappy, busy, friendly place, and this was the best breakfast experience I had on this trip.

From Jane’s I headed around the common (a massive bit of green grass without so much as one tree, and scores of Haligonias who frolic there and seem to like it that way!), past the Citadel and down to the ferry, looking forward to the harbor’s breezes. The senior rate (age 60 and over) for the ferry is only $1.50, and that includes a free trip back if you come back within 90 minutes. I have never met a ferry I didn’t like (and this has nothing to do with the fact that I was in Halifax during Gay Pride Week!), and the 10 minute ride seems too short to me, but most enjoyable.

In Dartmouth I walk around a little bit, but it is too hot for me to really enjoy the effort. I check out a restaurant I hope to patronize later in the week – the Nectar Social House – which is close to the ferry and features a nice patio upstairs. (Unfortunately, I never made it back.) Back on the Halifax side of the harbor I attempt to cool down with a “Peach Floyd” smoothie from a harbor side kiosk ($7, but hey…).

Sure that it must be cooler near the ocean proper I head back home, hop in the rented car and head out of town down Purcell’s Cove Road, then down Herring Cove Road, in search of what a tourist brochure calls Crystal Crescent Beach. The drive is lovely, and the watery scenes are tonic to my sun fried senses. Less than 30 minutes out of Halifax the weather changes dramatically as the sun grudgingly gives way to various degrees of fog. I turn off the car’s A/C and open the windows. After a few odd turns and a dirt road or two, I actually find Crystal Crescent Beach, and, to my surprise, it is actually a beach, complete with sand and Frisbees throwers. There are even some hardy souls splashy about in the water. There are several walking trails near the beach so and I have a nice little walk, binoculars in hand, should a rare bird need spying.

On the ride back to Halifax I discover the York Redoubt, which sits on a commanding bluff overlooking Halifax Harbor. Long ago it was vital to the defense of the harbor, as its remaining guns give witness, but on this late afternoon it provides me, and but three other visitors, with a nice distant view and a nice pervading quiet. Lovely way to end the day.

Monday, July 27, 2009 – Outside my dorm window the morning is so foggy I can barely make out the buildings only 100 or so yards away. I head out to Common Grounds, a coffee place on South Park Street, about a 15 minute walk away. Half way there the fog gives way to a light mist, then quickly becomes a steady rain that makes me hustle to my destination. Common Grounds is a big place and provides the morning’s necessities – fresh coffee, a muffin, free newspapers and lots of comfy seating. Making sure to give the weather a chance to change, I take my time eating. Indeed when it is time to leave the rain has stopped, allowing for a dry, if humid, walk home.

Today’s feature event is golf at Indian Lake, an 18 hole executive course a little bit out of town on the road to Peggy’s Cove. The fog, which had abated somewhat in the city, grows more intense as I drive toward the course. To my surprise the parking lot is pretty crowded, but I’m able to walk on ($34 with a pull cart) pretty much right away and join up with a threesome that features a father and high school age son, and their friend, who happens to be a bartender at the Midtown Tavern in Halifax.

Indian Lake, a par 60 playing at about 3,400 yard, proves to be a fun little course. The fog is never really an issue except on one or two of the four par-4’s, and then not seriouly. For an exec course the layout has good variety, features a good amount of elevation change, and there is enough sand and water to tighten your grip on more than a dozen shots. What I enjoyed most about the course was that it is truly out in the country, seemingly carved from the surrounding pine forest. Oh, and there are no power carts available – everybody walks. There is a nice patio for après golf dining and the entire facility is, though modest, quality oriented. Indian Lake was built about 10 years ago, I am told, by the same guy who built, and then sold, Granite Springs, a high end (read: expensive) course down the same road.

Though it was never warm on the golf course it was very humid and I had to take a cold shower back in the dorm. I did some reading (apparently an odd activity this summer in this college dorm; every time I looked in an open door the student(s) was avidly watching TV), took a short snooze and then headed for a late lunch at Darrell’s, which proved to be busy even at 3:30 in the afternoon. But once I finished my big and delicious “Pita Club” wrap and two cold Keith’s I could see why the place was so popular.

Certainly traveling alone (something I haven’t done in years) has its benefits, but eating alone in not one of them. So during this solo trip I often ate at the restaurant’s bar to make myself feel less alone at meal time. I did so again for dinner at the Bitter End on Argyle Street, where I had two martinis and a dish called (ironically enough) “Shrimp to Share.” But I sat virtually alone at the bar with my shrimp, vodka and olives, and except for a sextet of young women obviously celebrating something in a distant booth, the restaurant’s atmosphere was down right sedate. Indeed, on the walk home, several coffee houses, eateries and bars were closed. On this Monday night, Halifax seemed more like a town than a city.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009 – Another overcast and seemingly cool morning, but my walk to Annie’s Place – just off Spring Garden Road, on Birmingham Street – proved once again the enervating power of maritime humidity, and I arrived hoping against hope for some A/C. But of course it was not to be. Outside of the movie theaters, hotels and museums, I found no A/C anywhere in Halifax. Annie’s Place is a small (5 tables), entrepreneurial, very homey place, where Annie (one surmises) does the cooking, runs the cash register and asks nearly everyone where they’re from, while the young waitress carefully hands out the hot coffee and takes orders in both English and French. My Hearty Oat French Toast (ordered in English) with warmed maple syrup was large and fabulous.

From Annie's it is a short walk to the Art Gallery of Nova Scotia where my senior admission costs only $8. The gallery is housed in two buildings, but is small enough to be viewed in an hour or so of leisurely walking. Properly enough, the gallery’s emphasis is on “local” art and artists, and on the day that I visited its collection of Native Indian art was interesting and on occasion, quite stunning. It is nice to be able to get up close to the paintings and other art works without being admonished by a gallery guard, of whose regiment I saw but one during my visit. The gallery’s gift shop is loaded with stuff, but unfortunately, not a lot of reproductions from the gallery itself. I did wish I hadn’t filled up on Annie’s French toast, for the gallery’s eatery, the Cheapside Café, had a menu that was most tempting, and the place itself looked very stylish and inviting; and oh, it was air conditioned.

After the museum I took another ferry ride to Dartmouth and back simply for the fun of it. But during my back and forth harbor trip the sky lost its cloudy luster, the sun came out, and I found myself once again jumping from shade to shade as I walked back uphill from the harbor to the Little Fish restaurant for lunch. Here it was actually cooler on the shaded sidewalk patio than inside, so I enjoyed my (very good) fish and (only average) chips (and Keith’s, of course), as I watched the world walk by, seemingly enjoying their damn sunshine.

On my way back home I head over to Spring Garden Road and make a visit to the Old Burial Gound, where there is at least some shade from the trees. This cemetery has a good number of headstones from the late 18th century, several with still visible iconography that strikes the 21st century eye as strange indeed. Further up the road I visit again (I walked through the gardens three or four times duirng this trip) the venerable Public Gardens, where I can also walk in the shade of the numerous trees (many with an interesting history) while admiring the meticulous gardening, the rigid formality of which only seems to enhance the vibrant color of the myriad flowers, the old gravel paths of counterpointing grey, and of course, the obligatory grand gazebo.

After a cold shower back in my dorm and a less than totally successful attempt at a snooze, I headed out for Lost Creek golf course, about a 45 minute drive away. I had hoped that by playing late in the day I might not only get in a quick round by myself but might mitigate the heat and humidity. Neither actually happened, but still this round of golf ($41 with a pull cart) proved to be the best of my three outings. I was joined on the tee by two guys (both members of the club) and a middle aged woman who had just gotten off work. It turned out that it was good I didn’t play alone, for while Lost Creek is a short course, its numerous doglegs, blind and purblind shots, often insidious water, deep bunkers and slanted greens, all give the first time player a definite need for direction and advice.

Lost Creek, though 10 years old, is still fine tuning some landscaping and such, and apparently three holes were just recently finished and opened for play. There is no clubhouse and the pro shop works out of a trailer. But there is little doubt that this layout – with a river running through it (especially beautiful as it rushes between No.1 and No.2), lake views (especially on the back nine) and surrounding forest (on virtually every hole) – is both a challenge and fun to play. Despite the humidity, the late day flies, and the mosquitoes (helping me remember why I rarely play golf in the summer), this round of golf, finished on No. 17 under a Canadian sunset worthy of song and on No. 18 in near darkness, was flat out wonderful.

The only down side to my late play was that by the time I rolled back into Halifax I was so hungry (and too sweaty to go any place nice) that I ended up eating at a 24-hour McDonald’s on Quinpool Road. Well, at least it was air conditioned.

Wednesday, July 29 – Last night was the first night I found my dorm room to be too hot to get any kind of decent sleep, so I didn’t mind finding myself awake a little earlier than usual, though in need again of a cold shower. I had my usual coffee and such this time at the Coburg Coffee House, which is just on the edge of the university’s campus.

It is another warm day and I decide to head out again to the shore, but this drive, though nice enough, proves to be uneventful. For lunch I head back to the Saege Bistro where I sit at the little bar area and enjoy another tasty lunch amid the busy hubbub.

Part of the reason I was so happy to reserve my dorm room at Dalhousie (besides its price) was that my issued swipe card worked not only for dorm and room entry, but also for the university’s recreational facility, Dalplex. Here I found the promised big swimming pool I had read about, and though it was busy with frolicking children and swimming lessons, I found it easy to find a lap lane all to myself.

Though refreshed by my swim, I had already decided that after last night’s sweaty tossing and turning I was not going to go another night without A/C. So back in my room I phoned around and found a room at the Howard Johnson Bluenose Inn and Suites for $69; A/C assured. Sitting near the eastern shore of the Bedford Basin, this HoJo was more than adequate for my needs. And it is actually closer to the Halifax airport so tomorrow’s drive will be that much shorter.

For my final night’s dinner in Halifax I motored back into the city and ate at the Economy Shoe Shop, a much ballyhooed restaurant and night spot. Again I found the city’s streets to be generally lacking in crowds or buzz, but what buzz there was was certainly at the Economy Shoe Shop. Large, loud and busy, with an eclectic décor that is both sassy and classy, it seemed to me to be very much a bistro on steroids.

Whenever I had seafood in Halifax (except for that fish sandwich I had at McDonalds – did you know it comes with a slice of cheese??) the seafood was always, as they say, awesome. Up until this evening the seafood soup at Saege had been at the top of my list, but the Economy Shoe Shop’s Whiskey Maple Scallops made it a photo finish.

Happily sated and comfortable on my bar seat, I lingered over my trip’s final Keith’s and thought about what made Halifax so cool, so to speak: the sign on some country road that said “skates sharpened here;” the way every car stops for pedestrians, even jaywalkers; the law that makes it mandatory that cigarettes sold in stores be hidden from view; the fact that Halifax hosts a giant Gay Pride Week; the fact that almost all the city’s numerous bicyclists wear helmets, even the kids; the fact of Keith’s Pale Indian Ale.

And so now, what of my hope to find a reasonable facsimile of Sequim for a summer escape?
In sum, no luck; Halifax was simply too hot and humid (as is, my research shows, 90% of North America south of the Arctic Circle) to warrant another summer visit from me. The people, the vibe, the food, the beer, the countryside and the golf were all exceptional. Surely Halifax must be paradise, come autumn.

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