One (2, 3, 4 or 5) in a Thousand

Wolfe Island (where?) is the first of the Thousand Islands. The Thousand Islands themselves are a geological train wreck of islands that jumble their way down the St. Lawrence River as it flows out of Lake Ontario northward toward the Atlantic. When Jake and Stone visited Kingston (Ontario) last January they rode the winter ferry to Wolfe Island and thought the island  might prove to be a good HQ for a summer visit. It proved to be so.

On the Cottage Patio

Saturday, June 25, 2011: The drive northward from NJ proved to be painless, especially once past Scranton, PA. Leaving I-81 north at Watertown the drive got quite scenic on Route 12-East as it runs through some pretty towns, skirting Chaumont Bay on Lake Ontario. At Cape Vincent (NY) we joined two other couples on the smallish ferry ($15 for us and the car) for the 10-15 minute, rather windy and choppy  trip to Wolfe Island. Canadian Customs proved to be both friendly and efficient, and we drove quickly and easily (there are but two main roads on Wolfe Island) to Cedarcliff, our rented cottage.

We had rented our place pretty much on faith, as we could find precious little info and absolutely no pictures on the Internet, but things turned out wonderfully, especially the setting. Here's a picture from the patio of  Stone going down the steps to investigate the cottage's little docking area. The cottage proved to be homey and clean, with a spectacular cliff-side view of Lake Ontario and Kingston across the way. Birds sang and zoomed around the trees and bushes, the breeze was making for small whitecaps on the lake, and some sturdy kids were swimming off the cottage's little dock down lakeside. And what's this? A 9-hole golf course right across the road! What do you know -- our landlady owns the course and says we can play for free. Oh, Canada!

In the little town of Marysville, less than two miles down the coastal road, we buy Jake's favorite Canadian brew (Alexander Keith's India Pale Ale), a newspaper, get some ($5/gallon) gas, and then head back to the cottage to lounge on the provided loungers overlooking the lake, waiting to be joined by our BFF couple -- "Dalabetts", who are driving up from the DC area. They arrive and unpack in time for us four to get the ferry over to Kingston, where we go to dinner at Chez Piggy. The nighttime ferry ride back to Wolfe Island is cool and bracing, and we all glad we had properly fortified ourselves with some martinis. 

On the Alston Moor G.C.

Sunday, June 26, 2011:  Stone, Jake and Mr. Dalabetts get up early enough for some free golf across the road at Alston Moore. The course sits among several gigantic wind turbines that are part of Wolfe Island's wind farm. We soon grow used to their presence and actually end up admiring their engineering elegance. The 9 holes prove to be a good, long walk, and during our two hours on the course we experience sunshine, clouds, two five-minute rain showers and a breeze that comes and goes with a dedicated capriciousness that was downright Scottish.

After brunch in the cottage we all four take the ferry (which is free, both ways) into Kingston for a walk around town. We visit the B&B Jake and Stone stayed in last January, walk up and down Princess Street, buy some Cuban cigars at Smokers' Haven on Wellington Street, pick up some goodies to eat on an outside bench at Pan Chancho, then get the 5 o'clock ferry back to Wolfe. While waiting in Kingston for the ferry, Mrs. Dalabetts had noted a map that showed a ferry from Wolfe to Simcoe Island, so once back on the main road out of Marysville we went hunting for what would be our third ferry ride.

Cable Ferry to Simcoe Island

The ferry to Simcoe Island proved to be the smallest we discovered. It had room for two cars, and worked "on demand." That is, you show up, and the ferry comes over (if on the other shore) to take you across. $2 for the ride. And this is a "cable ferry." It pulls itself across the water using a submarine cable. We four rode over with one other passenger who happened to be a census worker for the Canadian government. He told us Wolfe has about 1300 residents, and Simcoe about 60, down from about 75 ten years ago. He warned us that there are no services on Simcoe, but that at least we wouldn't get lost, as there was but one real road -- Nine Mile Point Road.

Simcoe Island charmed us all. Birds a plenty (the ubiquitous red winged blackbirds, herons, swallows, an apparent osprey nest, goldfinches and others we couldn't identify), lots of open space and sky, side "roads" named after the farmers who lived there, a bench by the side of the road "for the weary" (said the sign) provided by "Hildegard and Walt", some rundown shacks (fishing?) along side some very fine homes, and one herd of cattle.

Back at our lakeside ranch on Wolfe we rustled up a fine dinner, accompanied by a happy sangria mix done by Mr. Dalabetts. Adjourning to the patio, we sat outside to watch the long sunset over the lake and the Kingston skyline, sipped some coffee, smoked our cigars and watched the stars come into view.

Dalabetts always travel with good music and this night on the patio we listened to some of three CD's they brought along: "Rare Bird Alert" by Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers, and two by Canadian boys-- the old: Leonard Cohen's "Greatest Hits," and the new: Robbie Robertson's "How to Become Clairvoyant."

As the gloaming finally flowed into deeper night and we all headed to our bedrooms to flow into sleep, the Great Lake flowed next to us as well, silently and inexorably, toward the Great River. Little wonder we all slept so well. 

Monday, June 27, 2011: Blue skies and abundant sunshine. Great day for a bike trip. The phone number for the bike rental place in town didn't seem to work, but luckily we got there just as Bill, who runs the rentals pretty much out of his garage, was getting ready to leave. The bikes were nice 21-speed jobs, and we get them for $15/each for the rest of the day, back by 5 pm.

On the Ferry to Cape Vincent (NY)

Out of Marysville we head out on Rt. 96 (the more "main" of the two main roads on Wolfe Island), then turn south onto Rt. 95 (the other main road) toward the ferry terminus across from Cape Vincent (NY). We saw right away why people come from all over to bike Wolfe Island. As we started out, there were no cars for about 5 minutes, then a flurry of cars for about 2 minutes, then nothing. We realized that the cars were heading to the Cape Vincent ferry -- about the only reason anyone seems to drive this road. In fact, Mr. Dalabetts timed it till we had another car come up behind us, and it was an astounding 30 minutes of car-free riding.

Out of Cape Vincent, NY

Biking Rt. 95 on Wolfe Island

The riding is basically flat and very rural, lots of farms and wind turbines, birds and cattle. It is hot in the sun so we take a break about every 10 minutes for water and rest when we can find some shade trees. It's about 6 miles to the ferry, which we arrive at just in time to save us an hour's wait. American Customs and border crossing is a breeze. Just out of Cape Vincent is a much recommended two mile bike ride beside the lake toward Tibbetts Point and its lighthouse. A simply lovely ride. We rested and recouped at the lighthouse area, then biked back to Cape Vincent where we had a quality lunch (sandwiches, wraps, pasta, salad) al fresco at Taste of Design.

Back on Wolfe and headed home we stop at Pykeview Meadows, a bison farm, to look at the buffalo. At the farm's little store we buy some bison beef (expensive, but then, it's all organic and oh so local) for dinner later tonight. Back home Mr. Dalabetts and Jake decide that if Canadian kids can stand to swim in the lake by the dock, so can they. The water is not that cold, but rather cool and very refreshing. The bison dinner proved to be very good indeed, the buffalo tenderloin and burgers tasting much better than what Jake remembers having years ago in Colorado.

At night again watching the sunset from the patio we spot a baby skunk slinking in the grass near the weeds. None of us have ever been this close to a skunk before; it is maybe 15 feet away from our table. Our talk suddenly becomes whispers and we all freeze, watching this little thing (quite adorable, really) sniff and waddle its way around the trees and grass in the growing darkness. As the skunk turns around the corner of the house it is almost too dark to see it, but that doesn't keep Mrs. Dalabetts from getting a flashlight and seeking out its trail -- from a safe distance. She does spot it (now named Pepita) in the house's garden, it's white stripe clearly visible in the flashlight's glow. Then Pepita sniffs her way into the darkness and finally out of sight and light.

The weather forecast for tomorrow is for rain. We'll see. The weather has been great so far. Even with today's constant sunshine it was only in the upper 70's, and always cooler than that in the shade. The usual island breezes always help.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011: The Wolfe Island Bakery provides us some fresh breakfast goodies. Today we all plan to drive around the area a bit. We head back to the ferry to Cape Vincent (again catching it with little wait time), then drive along Route 12-East again, but this time beside the St. Lawrence River, up to Clayton (NY). Here we visit the Boat Museum, but find we don't have the time to do justice to  a visit, so we nose around the gift shop for a bit, then head out on the road again.

We soon get to I-81 and head north over the Thousand Islands International Bridge, but exit before we get to Canada onto the Thousand Island Park Road on Wellesly Island. On this large American island we head to its southern tip to see Thousand Island Park (TIP).  Founded as a Methodist summer community in the late 19th century, TIP is often billed as a "step into the past" because so much of its 19th century architecture remains intact. TIP has a grand hotel, a wonderful lakeside setting, and many fine homes. However, Jake had hoped to find another sort of Chautauqua, like the one he and Stone visited last summer, and TIP proved to be not nearly as nice. Many of the homes needed some TLC, the roads were often unpaved, and the public spaces were in need of some upkeep. Still it was interesting to walk around, many families were enjoying the relaxed atmosphere, and the library and historic hotel were interesting to visit.

We had hoped to eat at the hotel, but it doesn't do lunch, so we headed up to Hacker's Pub and Grill at the island's main golf course, the Thousand Islands Country Club. The food here was good enough, and the beer better than good enough. At the surrounding tables French was the dominant tongue of the day, but we didn't need to parlez vous Francaise to understand that most were complaining, apres golf, about their golf game, or laughing about someone else's.  It was an enjoyable mise en scene.

The major goal of our road trip was to take one of the cruises on the St. Lawrence River out of the Canadian city of Gananoque, which we had heard were superior to the river cruises out of Kingston. The only cruise we could get on (it was late in the day and the border crossing on the bridge was longer than we anticipated, and we had stopped for ice cream) was a one hour trip. What an hour! The cruise was simply stunning. The pictures can't do it justice. Islands just big enough for a single little house; larger islands with a single mansion and a 3-boat boathouse; islands with several homes; islands with no homes; islands with homes, roads and boathouses galore; islands with nothing but three or four trees and some birds. This is an archipelago like no other in the world. And everywhere is deep greens and blues (nod to James Taylor). To miss this would have been to miss the essence of: "The Thousand Islands."

Back at our cliff side bungalow we had dinner on the patio, watched another sunset spread nearly 180 degrees across the entire distant horizon, waited for Papita to show up (she never did), looked at the stars again (the Big Dipper looked almost fiercely bright) and then started to go to bed. Suddenly the predicted rain was on us, drumming the cottage's metal roof -- sleep music for the weary.

Pretty Par-3 at Riverfront

Wednesday, June 29, 2011: Mr. Dalabetts and Jake head to Riverfront golf course while the girls drive to Big Sandy Bay. Riverfront is Wolfe Island's other 9-hole course, and truth to tell, it is quite a bit better than the free one across the road from our cottage. It is in better shape, has a really nice par-3 that would be welcomed on any golf layout, and is generally more fun to play. But it is Riverfront's views that seal the deal. St. Lawrence River views abound, with now and then, a "Laker" (freighter) coming into view as it heads up or down river. We get done early enough that we head back to our "home course" for a quick additional 6 holes before heading into town for lunch.

At Big Sandy Bay

Meanwhile, at Big Sandy Bay, Stone and Mrs. D. have a nice day among the flora and other coastal ecology. It is a bit of a walk from the parking lot to the beach, but the path is easy and interesting. On this day the wind has driven the water so high up on the skinny beach that there is precious little beach space to walk, but the views are terrific.

We all four rendezvous at the Island Grill in Marysville for a nice lunch and then head home.

Sometimes good things happen; sometimes really good things happen: In Marysville after lunch Mr. D. picked up a local tourist paper and sees a listing that says on Wednesday, June 29, Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers will be in concert at Watertown, NY. (!!) Stone and Jake demur, but Dalabetts make a couple phone calls to get ticket and venue info, and then are off to Watertown to see the show.

The concert proves to be fabulous -- almost two hours of great comedy and bluegrass music. Jake and Stone had a nice night themselves with a trip into Kingston to see Woody Allen's "Paris at Midnight," followed by drinks and food at Tango, before heading back home on the nighttime ferry.

Sometimes really good things do happen. Especially when on a vacation with friends.


Thursday June 30,Wolfe Hote 2011:  It's getaway day for Dalabetts, so we all go into town for breakfast at the General Wolfe Hotel, then we get our cars on the ferry to Kingston where Mr. and Mrs. D continue their Canadian journey towards Toronto while we head toward Amherst Island in search of a wine trail Jake has heard of. The lakeside drive from Kingston westward along Loyalist Parkway is lovely in the mid-morning sunshine. After a longer drive than we anticipated we just make the ferry (again!), with the closing gate almost hitting our bumper. The on-board toll taker ($9) jokes that people from Jersey are always late.

It is our Jersey license plate that also intrigues two passengers who strike up a conversation with us as we look over the railing at the blue-blue water of Lake Ontario. As often happens in these friendly Canadian confines, we are soon in steady conversation with this husband and wife couple -- Keld (born in Denmark) and Maria (born in Italy) -- who tell us about Amherst Island, including the somewhat disappointing news that our sought after wine trail is not on this island, but further down the road in Prince Edward County.  We decide to see what we can of the island before getting a ferry back to the mainland, and take them up on their offer to drop by their waterside trailer for a drink.

Keld and Maria's Trailer

Keld and Maria have told us not to miss visiting Topsy Farms, a sheep farm, where we might buy some quality wool products. But when we  arrive we are informed by the shepherd(!), that the owners are out working the fields and will be gone all afternoon. We drive back down the road and easily find Keld and Maria's place by the lake. They have 400 feet of water frontage, a cute 30' trailer that serves as their P/T summer home, and a sailboat Keld hopes to get in the water over the weekend. Sitting in lawn chairs beneath the shade of several large trees, drinking a beer or two beside the gin-clear lapping water of the lake, we have a easy conversation about this and that before we have to head back to catch the next ferry. We exchange emails and hope to stay in touch.

Prince Edward County View

Once back on the mainland it is a bit more of a drive to Prince Edward  County, which is, confusingly, a Canadian municipality composed of several towns, and technically an island, though it can be easily driven to (don't ask). We opt for the free ferry instead of driving, and right away are struck by the beauty of the place. After seeing just the little we had time for, it is easy to see why Prince Edward County is such a favorite vacation spot for Canadians. It is full of  provincial parks, water vistas, B&B's, birding sites, charming towns, a bunch of wineries, and at least one very lovely place for a late lunch: The Inn at Top of the Mountain Resort. The name says it all -- especially when you are lucky enough to dine on the sun splashed patio with its gay umbrellas and restful lake view.

Our good luck of just making it onto ferries ran out when we got back to Kingston, so while Stone caught some shut-eye in the car waiting in the ferry queue, I walked over to the government liquor store in search of finding the Prince Edward County wine we had had at lunch, but it was out of stock. The liquor store (officially, the LCBO (Liquor Control Board of Ontario)) was jumping with customers, for tomorrow is Canada Day.

Friday, July 1, 2011: It is another day of sunshine and we head out fairly early for the Riverfront golf course, hoping to beat the holiday crowds. A fledgeling golfer, Stone is happy that we can play alone as a twosome, and we have a happy two hours on this delightful 9-holer. After lunch at home and a snooze, we head into Kingston to see the Canada Day activities, which are centered in Confederation Park across from the Kingston Town Hall. All around town most everyone sports a Canadian flag in hand, or on their hat, or in their hair, or on the baby's stroller, or on their motorcycle helmet, or on their guitar case.

There is the usual array of food vendors and several bands provide the music in the park as the day progresses. A local guitar playing duo (The Torres Project) does several artistic covers of hit songs, and afterward we ask if they have any CD's available. Sadly they don't, but they do have a presence on Youtube. Indeed, their cover of "Layla" shows two posters on the wall -- Hendrix and the Beatles -- no wonder they're so good! And here's an original tune that's worth a listen.

As the Canada Day festivities wound down we walked over to Chien Noir, one of the restaurants we wanted to go to last winter but missed, and had a terrific dinner on yet another patio.

Back on Wolfe Island as the day ends we seek out a yoga retreat we had heard about. Shanti is a couple miles from the ferry terminal and has a lovely setting. Stone, who recently did some yoga time with a lifelong BFF at the more famous Berkshires retreat, Kripalu, wondered if she and her pal might do this place next time. Certainly worth more investigating.

The day ends with us on our lakeside patio watching the distant Canada Day fireworks over Lake Ontario. As night gathers around us we can see small displays here and there on the broad horizon as the smaller towns and suburbs celebrate Canada's 144th birthday. Then at 10 PM the big show begins in Kingston, off Fort Henry.

When the booms and blooms are over, Jake and Stone are left in the quiet darkness to look at the abiding Great Lake and each other. They can't really see in the dark, but they can feel each other smile. Tomorrow morning they'll finish packing and drive home.

 

Other Places

Let's Go (See the) Mets!

To Sweetness! baseball used to be quite foreign

To her this American game might as well be Ecuadoran

But then sometime last year while she was sleeping

Into her dreams Wright, Ike and others came creeping

Soon she was watching the post-game on SNY

The pre-game too with Bobby O, my-oh-my

Last year she took to players who this year are gone

Like Frenchie for one, and she always liked Angel Pagan

Now in Rochester even the spring is cold and quite snowy

So she cooked up an idea -- at first she feared it too doughy --

But some more time in the brain -- her's is hot as an oven --

The idea popped up perfect as if bewitched by a coven

The Mets, spring training, and Florida's Port St. Lucie!

The idea was more than just tasty, why it was downright juicy

Sweetness! called her dad and soon they were flying on jets

To Florida! In March! To cheer on the Mets!

In Fort Lauderdale where they landed the traffic was fierce

And the veil of parking for dinner took an effort to pierce

But just off 1A they found the Cafe Blue Fish

Where natives love their seafood like the Chosen love knish

Later, in Port St Lucie on dear old Route 1

Their choice of Best Western proved an astute one

The room was big enough for two, though not quite a true suite

Two TV's, big beds and fast internet made things complete

Breakfast on Sunday morning should be more than just bread

So Sweetness! and Jake disdained the motel's free spread

And instead headed down to Jensen Beach where they found

Jan's Place where eggs, biscuits and orange juice all wear the crown

Half a block from Jan's Place

Then it was off for a stroll on the beach quite near by

They saw surfers and sun tanners but no swimmers, why?

Up by the concession stand flags did flap in the breeze

Red and blue flags, and a sign to read if you please

Red means dangerous swimming and blue means sea pests

What could the latter mean? Surely not the many bikinied breasts

The lifeguard told them the pests were Man-of-War, type Portuguese

And against their hurtful sting there were no good warranties

Jake and Sweetness! had seen some strange seaweed on the shore

And it's a good thing they didn't investigate more

For from the blue balloons these critters use to float

Dangle tentacles that sting "like a bee" -- from the lifeguard a quote

Soon it would be game time so they hurried back to St Lucie

For it was Mets v. the Red Sox! No time to be loosey goosey!

The ticket was a hot one, so their seats were out on the berm

And there were so many Sox fans our duo often did squirm

From the Berm Beyond Right Field

But the game was a good one with home runs galore

Two by the Mets, and Bosox had three, yes that's one more

But Boston's were solos, while Ike's, a two-runner

And when Duda hit the game winner, why it couldn't be funner

So thought our duo until at Duffy's they had dinner

Where they actually met a World Series winner

Ron Darling was there and they both shook his hand

Even in Florida flip-flops old Number 12 looked grand

But the excitement was not over for Sweetness! and Jake

The tuna at Duffy's was good but more was at stake

For next door bowling who else did they see?

Why it's Ike! (Sweetness!'s heart skips a beat) and the tall Pelfrey

This historic night of Sunday seemed like a dream

They stopped on Route 1 to celebrate with ice cream

For Sweetness! the night could be made better by nada

Unless, that is, they had managed to see young Mr. Tajada

The next two days were nice too, in the Florida sunshine

So don't think that these short verses seek anything to malign

Or that Monday and Tuesday were anything worse

It's that Sunday has used all the "epic" verse....

On Monday, early, Jake went to a big time golf course

Seeking the cool of the day for his blood most Norse

It was a lot of money for his game, which is not great

Still he managed to shoot a very fine 98

The Ryder Course at PGA Village

The Mets game on Monday was against the Tigers of Detroit

The 2-1 loss was not exciting, though nothing was truly maladroit

And our duo got to see Mr. Dickey and his famous knuckle ball

Which danced up to the plate, bringing a chuckle to all

Dinner that night was down in Stuart, a town somewhat strange

For it has a traffic circle, intersected by a track for choo-choo trains

Their hoped-for restaurant was closed on this Monday night

So Jake and Sweetness! ate elsewhere, the food unfortunately slight

Tuesday was started with breakfast down again at Place-de-Jan's

Of her killer orange juice they had become rabid fans

And dinner that night proved a good local thrill

Back down Jensen Beach way at Caps Island Grill

Tween breakfast and dinner was their final Mets game

Though a split-squad affair the fun was the same

They sat four rows from the field, the best seats of the trip

And could even see the relief pitchers adjusting their grip

The Nats won this game four to three

But our duo was not that unhappy

for they didn't have to suffer and see

Oliver Perez pitch up in Kissimmee

The flight home was the usual delayed affair

But this father and daughter just didn't care

And so what if this is doggerel in its rhyme

Their time together was together time

Other Places

Champlain and Champagne

 

Champlain's Dream, by David Hackett Fischer, is a good, if rather overly detailed, account of the great Frenchman's adventures in New France, and its reading reawakened Jake's interest in the St. Lawrence River area. So when Jake and Stone sat down last fall to plan their 31st anniversary getaway in January, Stone's desire to go some place with pretty much guaranteed snow dovetailed nicely with a trip to see the great Canadian river. Within their maximum preferred driving radius of 6-7 hours, Kingston, Ontario, seemed to fit the bill. This city of about 100,000 people sits on Lake Ontario in the Thousand Islands area of Canada,  right where the St. Lawrence River begins its journey from Lake Ontario northward to the Atlantic. Plans set, Jake and Stone happily thought about the January to come and their sipping some celebratory champagne while gazing out the window at some guaranteed snow.

Come January itself, the champagne was left at home in the fridge (where it was carefully placed in obvious view the night before leaving) and Jersey got walloped with a good 16 inches of snow in their absence. But Jake and Stone had a memorable time anyway.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011 – After the mandatory stop at Dunkin' Donuts, the drive proved to be no trouble once we got into Pennsylvania and out of the east coast snow storm that was just beginning. Kingston sits almost directly north of Syracuse, NY, and I-81 north leads right to the border and the spectacular river views of the Thousand Island Bridge where our border crossing was quick (and thanks to our not putting our passports in the fridge with the forgotten champagne) and painless.

Our B&B's  Front Door

The Frontenac Club Inn proved to be an excellent home base for our three night stay in Kingston. Originally built as a bank in the 1840's, it later became the Fontenac Club and hosted the day's leading Kingstonians, the occasional Canadian Prime Minister, and such luminaries as Carl Sandburg and Alexander Graham Bell. Today it is a popular B&B with both character and charm (remnants of the two original bank vaults remain), a convenient location and a variety of good breakfasts gracefully served in three cozy breakfast rooms. Our room on the third floor included a broad view of the harbor, and a large bathroom that featured an equally capacious soaking tub that, unlike others we've experienced, filled up quickly with the necessary hot water.

Kingston's Skating Rink

It is but a five minute walk on King Street from the B&B to the historic part of Kingston. On our way on this first day we passed the town skating rink, which is free to all: bring your own skates, and don't be afraid to leave your backpack on the bleachers. And though there is plenty of ice for all, watch out for the toddlers, who, seemingly having just learned to walk, are now, under the watchful eyes of mom and/or dad, learning to ice skate. Oh, Canada!

Lunch on this first day in Kingston was at the Pan Chancho Bakery and Cafe on Princess Street. Our two soups (one meat, one vegetable), salad, open faced egg salad sandwich with smoked salmon and two glasses of Black River Malbec was an unbeatable way to start our stay. The bakery side of this homey but stylish place had a wide assortment of prepared dishes, delicious smelling breads, and pastries impossible to ignore. Stone got a cookie and Jake a chocolate croissant for the road.

Five minutes later the road lead us to the local tourist office, where we picked up some maps and brochures, were told to be sure and visit the City Hall across the street, and were given lapel pins of the Canadian flag (“These will let you in the Prime Minister's house,” joked the friendly guy beind the counter). As for a recommended coffee spot where we might compliment our cookie and croissant with some Canadian brew, Sipps, was recommended and just up the street.

As told to do, we checked out the Kingston City Hall, with its historic plaques and pictures. For a brief time in the mid 19^th century, Kingston was the capital of Canada, but more importantly, Canada's first Prime Minister, and one of the Founding Fathers of the Canadian Federation – Sir John A. MacDonald – was a Kingstonian. Within City Hall the large Memorial Hall has a dozen stained glass windows that pay tribute to the Canadians who served and died in World War I, quite a moving display.

Heads Up

Coffee at Sipps was as good as recommended. We enjoyed the slightly worn, Bohemian look of this coffee house as we munched our cookie and pastry while looking out the window across the slushy street. And slush was not unusual in Kingston. Throughout our several walks in town we noticed many a sidewalk not properly shoveled, but soon got used to walking in the almost ubiquitous snow and slush. (We got used too, to watching out for icicles that loomed from many a building.) Though there was about a foot of snow on the ground while we were in Kingston, the temps were generally mild – high 20's during the day – and though it snowed three or four times during our stay, the snow was never heavy or amounted to more than an inch or two. Perhaps in Kingston they figure it's not worthwhile shoveling unless it snows a lot – like the 16” that was hammering our Jersey while we were sipping our coffee and looking out the window at mere slush.

Back at the B&B Jake took advantage of the soaking tub while Stone took advantage of a bed made for snoozing. One of the better rated, upscale restaurants in Kingston is AquaTerra Restaubistro by Clark, which despite its awkward name, proved worthy of its rep. It is part of the Radisson Hotel, which is right on the water, so the restaurant boasts a great lakeside view, and is but a five minute walk from our B&B. A good martini usually augurs well for the meal to come and this held true at AquaTerra. We stayed on the aqua side of the menu: salmon, scallops and chowder, accompanied by two glasses of wine, and finally lemon sponge cake and coffee. Very nice indeed.

Thursday, January 27, 2011 – From one of our two B&B windows we could see the Kingston ferry making its way through the ice across a bit of Lake Ontario over to Wolfe Island. Over a breakfast of juice, coffee, yogurt/fruit, Irish oatmeal with pomegranate seeds, and an omelet of apples and brie, we asked our host about the ferry. He told us it was a must-ride, that it ran every hour on the hour (till 1 AM) even in the winter, and that it was free for passengers. He also said that he had heard reliable stories of old time Canadians, back in the day when the ferry didn't run in the winter, driving the 20-30 minutes across the ice to and from the island. He added, as proof of their not being crazy(!), that they rarely drove across the lake at night and always keep their car doors open as they drove, just in case.

Aboard the Kingston Ferry

We walked to the ferry in about 10 minutes. (One of Kingston's allures is its walkability -- check out the Walk Score for the address of our B&B) The ferry was a unique, thrilling ride, and demanded no open car doors. While the ferry's path through the ice was well worn and the ride was smooth, still it was remarkable to stand outside on the narrow passenger deck and hear the ice slabs hitting the prow, watch the ice slide by in pieces big and small, and look out over the lake – a vast prairie of white. As one might do on the Staten Island Ferry, we just stayed on till they loaded another bunch of cars and trucks, and three passengers, and enjoyed the ride back.

We next went shopping in town for a good pair of mittens for Jake in preparation for our hoped for snowshoe adventures tomorrow and we found a nice pair at a store on Princess Street. Also along Princess Street we discovered the Golden Rooster Deli which looked busy so we dropped in for lunch. It proved to be a rather large cafeteria style place that was full of local patrons – lots of apparent university students checking their phones as they ate their wraps; seniors reading newspapers as they sipped their soups – all looking for a good, cheap lunch. And a good, cheap lunch it proved to be, served in a place with lots of local flavor. Indeed, Stone noticed that the cheerful girls who made our sandwiches put the ingredients together without benefit of the usual latex gloves so common in American eateries.

After lunch we walked around the downtown area some more, then dropped in on a coffee place called Mug and Truffle, and had some coffee and pieces of artisan chocolate before heading back to the B&B for some “laying around time.”

Outside Chez Piggy

We had a very nice early dinner at Pan Chancho's older sister restaurant, Chez Piggy, both of which were started in Kingston by Zal Yanovsky, who, along with John Sebastian, founded the Lovin' Spoonful back in the mid-'60's. Off the street, in a nice little courtyard-like setting that looked especially inviting in the snow and decorative lights, Chez Piggy provided us with a wonderful dinner of spring rolls, soup, and the largest bowl of seafood chowder Jake had ever seen. Chez Piggy's ground floor atmosphere could be described as upscale pub (the upstairs level is more quiet), its low ceiling adding to its cozy feel, with a good list of both wines and brews. The latter list included Steam Whistle Pilsner, which was threatening on this trip to overtake Labatt Blue as Jake's go-to Canadian beer.

We had to do an early dinner as we had tickets to see a 8 PM performance of Steve Martin's play, Picasso at the Lapin Agile. Put on by the King's Town Players at the Kingston Yacht Club (which btw, is a very unassuming place – sort of a yacht club for blue collar guys with sail boats), it proved to be a very good night of local, but thoroughly professional, theater. Afterwards it was one of our longer walks home – maybe 15 minutes – in a quiet, late night snowfall.

Bridge to Snowshoe Trail

Friday, January 28, 2011 – After another wonderful breakfast, highlighted this time by waffles, we got in our car for the first time since parking it in the snowy parking lot behind the B&B and headed for the Little Cataraqui Creek Conservation Area, about a 10 minute drive north of town. Here one can cross country ski, snowshoe or ice skate. We had brought our LL Bean snowshoes from home, so after paying our $11 entrance fee we excitedly headed to the snowshoe trail. All morning it had been lightly snowing, with not a breath of wind, so our tramp through the forest and frozen wet lands was like walking in a snow-globe world. “Perfect” is a word close enough.

Along the trail we met a young woman with a backpack (the only person we met on the 1 km trail) who was kind enough to take our picture. “Now, if you don't mind, can you take one of us?” she asked. Stone and Jake looked briefly at each other wondering why she would refer to herself in the plural, but the mystery was shortly resolved when she had us pull back a flap in her backpack to reveal Clara, her 11-month old daughter, bundled up and happy, blinking her baby blues in the sudden light. After the picture, Clara's mom said she had to go back to work next month as her one year maternity leave, which is given to just about all Canadian mothers, complete with a minimum 55% salary and guaranteed placement back in their jobs, was due to end. Given her understanding of America's always promoting family values, she couldn't understand our lack of such a program, or anything close. We had to admit that neither could we.

Chick with Chickadee

On the snowshoe trail is a place marked Chickadee Feeding Area. We stopped and immediately the surrounding trees were full of the little cuties, perhaps 10-12 of them. They zoomed around our head, jumped nervously from branch to branch, and seemed to look at us most expectantly. We had no food for them, but looking around saw some seeds and such left over here and there in the snow. Stone picked some up and fed these delightful little creatures out of her hand. Such an experience only put a capital “P” on what was a Perfect hour or so in the woods and snow.

We had seen an ad for a bingo parlor so after we drove out of the park we stopped in at Game Time Bingo on Montreal Street. We thought we would just drop in maybe play a card or two to see what's what. Not so. This is bingo for the serious. There room is about the size of six basketball courts and must seat between 400-500 players. There are four sessions during the day: Breakfast Bingo at 9:30 AM, Matinee at 12:30 PM, Evening at 7 PM and Late Night at 10 PM. Each session lasts about 2-3 hours. The big prize of the day we were there was over $3,000, but usually on good days it gets to be easily north of $7,000. To win it one must get bingo within the first 50 numbers called – or rather, not called, but lighted up on the big electronic displays that are on the room's walls. All this was new to Jake and Stone, but apparently such giant parlors are numerous in Vegas. We had to wonder, as we walked back to our car, if Vegas also sported the underside of this game of chance – the several knots of cigarette smoking, old and lonely, down and out folks who stood outside in the cold, waiting for the Matinee session to begin, and their luck to change.

Cataraqui River Views

The scene could not have been different at our lunch venue, the River Mill Restaurant. Housed in an historic Woolen Mill, this elegant restaurant has pretty views of the snow covered Cataraqui River, a rather sedate atmosphere, and some terrific food, which at lunch time is actually affordable. The fish in Jake's fish and chips was world class tender, and the lemon tart dessert was not afraid to strut its lemony self. There is a nice, if limited, wine list also.

After lunch it seems our earlier snowshoeing efforts now demanded a tub soak and snooze for both of us back in our room, for upon awaking we had one more Canadian thing to do that would demand some energy: seeing a hockey game.

On our walk to the game we stopped off at Tango , where we had heard the martinis were the best in town. Well, the martinis were awfully good, but then all of our martinis in this Canadian city were quite good. At the bar we fell into talking to two guys who were also headed to the hockey game. They asked us about America and New Jersey, and we asked them about Canada and Kingston. Such conversations were not unusual on this trip. Wherever we went in Kingston, people were friendly and engaging.

Hockey, eh?

The hockey game was at the K-Rock Centre, a fairly new arena that seats over 6,000 for hockey. We had bought our tickets ($16 each, senior rate) the day before and had good seats – 10 rows back at center ice. The Kingston team is the Frontenacs and tonight they were playing the Peterborough Petes. The Fronts, as they are called locally, are in the Ontario Hockey League, are coached by NHL great (and Kingstonian) Doug Gilmour, and several of their players have been drafted by the NHL, so we expected a good display of hockey. But this night's game proved to be an uneven affair, with bits of both brilliance and mistakes. In the end the Fronts lost to the Petes 3-2, but we enjoyed the whole scene, from the crowd proudly singing the national anthem, to the requisite hockey fight, to the grumbling of the disappointed local fans as we all (3,009 announced attendance) exited the building.

Back at the B&B, as we packed for our leaving in the morning, we thought we would almost certainly return to Kingston in the summer, for everyone we met told us that Kingston was even better with grass and flowers than it was with snow. Well, Ktown (as it is sometimes called) will have to be awfully nice, we agreed, to beat our time this January. We paused in our packing to look out the window at the beginnings of another light snow fall. In the distance we could see the faint lights of the brave little ferry making its run over to Wolfe Island.

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