A Long Drive West on the Solstice
• The longest day......
 |
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
4:23 AM The day begins
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
4:37 AM Maine Pike around Falmouth
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
5:00 AM Maine Pike around Kennebunk
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
5:30 AM Presumpscot River Bridge
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
6:00 AM Rte. 495 in Massachusetts
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
7:00 AM Charlton Rest Stop, I-90 Mass. Pike.
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
7:28 Solstice
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
8:00 AM, the road ahead, 60 miles to Albany
Tunes:Roy Orbison and Friends, "A Black and White Night"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
9:00 AM Albany, 273 Miles to Buffalo
Tunes: Don Henley, "The End of the Innocence"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
10:00 AM 200 miles to Buffalo along Erie Canal and Mohawk River
Tunes:"The Best of R.E.M. in time 1988 - 2003"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
1:00 PM 50 Miles to Buffalo
Tunes: The Brian Setzer Orchestra, "The Dirty Boogie"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
2:15 PM Enter Pennsylvania, a glimpse of Lake Erie.
Tunes: The Moody Blues, "Greatest hits"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
4:45 PM, Cleveland, after 12 hours on the road, is this a hallucination, or simply a new way to 'go green'?
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
4:50 PM Welcome to Cleveland
Tunes:Traveling Wilburys, "Volume 1"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
6:00 PM 35 miles to Toledo, exit 91 to Port Clinton is looking pretty good
Tunes: Dave Matthews Band, "Crash"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
6:30 PM Lake Erie near Port Clinton
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
7:00 PM Port Clinton, Ohio, the sunset awaits....
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
Now you're talkin'.
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by Wikipedia |
May Fly
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
8:30 PM one hour 'til sunset
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
9:30 PM Official Sunset 17 hours since sunrise in Maine.
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
9:30 PM "So why do we call it a May Fly if we're seeing it in June?"
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
A view of the falls from Niagara Falls State Park.
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
US Customs Center, Niagara Falls, NY
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
US Customs
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
Niagara Falls view from the observation deck in the morning
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
The Falls up close and personal as seen from the Maid of the Must
|
Enlarge This Photo | Photo by GNG Gazette |
A portion of the original locks at Lockport NY.
Jun 27, 2010 – Ever wonder as a kid, if you keep driving west really fast, could you make time stand still. I was reminded of that age old question while traveling with my husband, John from Maine to New Jersey in January of 2010. We left Maine at about 11 AM and traveled southwest for 7 hours. By about noon in Maine in January, the sun is already on its way down. We literally drove face into the sun for the entire ride. Then the light bulb went off, 'Why not do this on the summer solstice and see how far we can get before the sun sets.'
At the time, both John and I thought this a really cool idea. I for the spontaneity and romance of the idea. I researched the solstice to learn about the event and some of the rituals performed by different cultures and religions. I learned that the word solstice derived from Latin, of course, literally means sun stand still. The moment that the sun's apparent position is at its northern most point relative to earth over the tropic of cancer, for that split second (7:28 AM local time this year) it stops 'moving'. John's enthusiasm was for the opportunity to drive in his beloved 1971 Jensen Interceptor II on our adventure. It was also an excuse for him to buy things for her.
At zero hour, at least one of us still loves the idea. The other, who has spent the last month providing TLC, a new carburetor, and countless other enhancements to 'his other woman' as I call her, may be feeling differently. John is many things, patient, motivated, mechanically inclined, adventurous… of all the things he is, he is not a morning person. Unlike my husband, I love morning.
In an effort to soften the 4 AM blow on Monday, I tried to make Fathers' Day as perfect as possible. After a day of his favorite leisure activities, we methodically packed the car with the necessary tools and auto emergency supplies, including the fire extinguisher – the car has Lucas wiring after all. British car buffs refer to Mr. Lucas as the prince of darkness, one even coined the acronym Loose Unsoldered Connections And Splices. But I digress….
Back to the business at hand. Road food? Check! Clothes? Check! Maps? Check! Tunes Check! Hopefully enough CDs that there'll be no repeats. The car has a single CD player – no IPod here. If I had my druthers there would be a vintage 8 track in the dash -- after all it suits her age. Not John's opinion in this instance, he was anti 8 track even in the seventies and eighties, it was either vinyl or cassettes back then for him. And in the Jensen, vintage be damned, at least where the tunes are concerned.
According to the almanac, sunrise in Portland, Maine is at 4:23 AM. We're on the road by 4:30 and while there was light in the sky, there was no sign that the top of the sun had broken the horizontal plane. As I'm quietly waiting with camera in hand for the first peek of the sun out the rear window of the car, I can't help but chuckle at the thought that John probably figured he'd been duped into getting up way earlier than necessary. Just as I was thinking that, I hear, "There ain't no sun in the sky, did you put one over on me?" This is how you know you're married too long.
As we were looking at the map and determining the best way to go west from the Pine Tree State, we decide on Route 90. I get the wild idea that with the time zone change on our side we can make it to Chicago, and go to Buddy Guy's Legend for some Blues and refreshment when we arrive. According to Google, the drive is about 18 hours. According to the almanac, the sun sets in Chicago at 8:29 central time. Factoring the time change, we should be in Chicago at 9:30 central time – if John isn't delirious by then – he's doing all the driving.
Please excuse the photos from the car windows. There was not time to stop and shoot if we had any chance of getting to the windy city. We did try to clean the bugs off the windshield at each of our frequent petrol stops.
Our plan is to take a more leisurely path home over the next two days. Upon review of the map it occurred to me that traveling up into the peninsula and past Toronto back down to Niagara Falls might be cool – except, I have been lazy and not renewed our passports that expired this past January. We have the forms complete, we have the photos, just never got around to mailing the check. A little research found that there is a passport service center in Chicago and that if you have to travel out of the country within 2 weeks, you can make an appointment for an expedited passport renewal. So, to add to the adventure, if we make it to Chicago, we're going to try to renew the passports. If not it's back on Route 90, we're still hoping to stop in Niagara, just from the American side.
The sunrise portion of our trip is far more interesting than other parts of the drive. Once true sunrise is past, there's nothing really unique to see, since most of us are up and at it by then anyway. The scenery through the Berkshires was absolutely beautiful. We were in Albany by 10:00 AM.
Now aside from the ride -- it is all about the ride, you know -- there are a ton of other things going on here. How's the new carburetor doing? Is anything leaking? Did the carb improve the normally dismal gas mileage of the Chrysler 383 V-8? Will we spend more money on gas than on economy hotel rooms? Will we be able to synchronize our bathroom stops with gasoline stops?
Another thing to consider is the tunes. We each selected several CDs, and as you might guess, we have pretty different tastes in driving music. The Venus and Mars thing I'm sure. Aside from taking photos and notes for the story, I'm in charge of keeping the food and drinks handy, navigating – no talking GPS system in our vintage muscle car, thank you very much -- AND the music play list. The OCD side of my personality has me arrange the CDs in a way that is simple to alternate John's picks with mine, AND to provide smooth segues from one to the next.
The OCD me actually kept a log of what tunes I played and when. A person's taste in music tells a lot about their personality, I'll let you guess which selections were a Venus' choice and which were Mars'.
The drive to Albany was enjoyable in Maine and New Hampshire thanks to the sunrise, in Massachusetts, it was, as I mentioned the Berkshires that provided the aesthetics. The drive between Albany and Buffalo was just the opposite, except for an occasional glimpse of the Erie Canal, there was not much of interest to see or do.
Actually, I did calculate the gas mileage for the first tank of gas, and was happy to see John's relief that the temperature gauge was in a happy place. We were at the Buffalo exit by about 1:30 PM and in my mind Chicago was looking pretty doable. Since we had our sights on Niagara Falls on the return trip, we opted to continue and not stop for the hot wings that have put Buffalo on the culinary map of life.
Driving in Pennsylvania was less boring, mostly thanks to road construction. In my almost fifty years, I have never encountered an interstate highway in that state that WASN'T in the throes of some kind of construction. The periodic sightings of Lake Erie also proved appealing. The size of the lake is truly amazing. Especially at the south end, visible from I-90, it looks like an ocean.
Thankfully the ride on the interstate through Pennsylvania is pretty short. One of the things I love about being the navigator is the maps. I very methodically open the map for whatever state we're in and fold it to a manageable size that allows me to keep an eye on where we are at any moment. I gradually fold panels of the map to hide the areas we've passed and expose the next leg. There's a great sense of accomplishment when we exit a state and I can move on to the next map. Pennsy is very gratifying on this trip, the map goes away quick.
We're in Ohio by three, and for the first time lost our gas fill and bladder empty sync. I admit it was my fault, so to the visitor center we go, only to have to make a gas stop several miles later. Neither Pennsylvania nor Ohio have rest stops on I-90, you have to get off and it's a 20 minute loss of time no matter how you slice it.
By 4:40 we're east of Cleveland, we've traveled 725 miles in 12 hours, really 11 hours if you figure the three stops we'd made by then. At this point, the sun is in front of us, but is still not visible below the top of the windshield.
I-90 around Cleveland is an engineering marvel. Some designer thought it would be wise to have the interstate make a 90 degree turn. So it's rush hour, everybody is traveling at a fairly high rate of speed, and whammo, reduce to 35, merge and turn a hard left. The view of the city from the highway provided not the least desire to visit. The view of Lake Erie and a tricked out Cadillac were the visual diversions as we fought the traffic through the area.
So now we've lost time to the unsynchronized stops and the cluster that was Cleveland, it's 5:15 and the sun is still at 65 degrees above the horizon. It's time to consult the map again. Next major city, Toledo. If it's anything like Cleveland, I'm not interested – especially because neither of us can remember Klinger's favorite rib place that shipped to Korea on M.A.S.H. Chicago is not looking good, and if we keep driving until the sun is set, we'll be in the middle of Indiana somewhere.
As I'm perusing the map, John asks how far we should go. He's willing to drive 'til dark in the interest of the story and our goal, he could also be happy "with a beer and a bed", as he put it. I notice on the map, in the Sandusky area, a string of islands on the lake that look kind of nice. So let's see, drive into the middle of Indiana until dark and stay at one of those interstate highway hotels, or be spontaneous and change course.
This whole excursion has been so out of my comfort zone. No set destination, no set route, no room reservations, no set time schedule – totally against every bit of my usual organized, carefully scheduled, type A self. So in that spirit, we change course and head to the islands and a little town called Port Clinton. This was a very good move.
We depart the interstate at exit 91 and head north on route 53. Through what seemed like miles of farms, we travel into this quaint seaside village, over a charming little bridge, and we arrive at Port Clinton. A couple of hotels, and Dock's Beach House, complete with Tiki lights, a dining deck overlooking the lake and a surfboard sign reading, 'It's 5 o'clock somewhere', our kind of place.
We check in to the Commodore Perry Inn, where we were treated like family, especially by Nicole, who was happy to give us info on what to see, and the general lay of the land, including rave reviews of the seafood at Dock's. She also noted that they make an excellent margarita.
As we're unloading the car and getting our stuff to the room, I hear John ask Nicole if there's a place to park under shelter – rain was forecast for the overnight. Now this is a nice little hotel, but it ain't the Waldorf. Nicole apologetically said no, and somehow managed to refrain from cracking up right in his face. I give her credit, not sure I could have kept it suppressed if I were in her shoes.
After our stuff is safely stowed in our room, John moves the car from the entry portico and parks in the hotel lot. We walk across the street to Dock's and assume our positions on the deck with camera ready to capture the sunset.
Nicole wasn't kidding about the seafood or the renowned margaritas at Dock's. Both my seafood stuffed portabella and John's blackened salmon were delicious. John thoroughly enjoyed a couple of bottles of Dortmunder Gold from the Great Lakes Brewing Company, as did I a couple of those famous margaritas. Again we felt like family, and our server, Jessica, was happy to answer all of our touristy questions. Including the one about the bugs...
They have these bugs up there that look sort of like a dragon fly that's missing 2 wings. They are all over the place, covering the ground, stuck to buildings, everywhere. We learned that they're called May Flies, although there seemed to be a debate at the bar later on about why you call them May Flies in June. Anyway, they don't bite, no one is quite sure where in the food chain they are, after maturing in the water for up to a year, they fly on to land and generally die within 24 hours.. The good news is that a large population of them is indicative of clean water and a healthy lake. Lake Erie is pretty darned healthy this year.
So we sit, sip and take photos for a couple of hours after dinner. We text some to all those who were calling in or texting with encouragement throughout the day's drive. For a very brief moment, I pondered whether our decision to stop was a sign of our aging. It didn't take too long to conclude that is was a sign of our wisdom. Somewhere in the middle of Indiana on the interstate, or this idyllic place with good food, good drinks, and a stunning view. Definitely wisdom.
I don't even remember falling asleep Monday night. I think we hit the hay at about 11 PM, a mere 19 hours from when alarm went off.
On Tuesday morning we grabbed a continental breakfast at the hotel, repacked the cooler and headed to the car. Both doors get opened, the hatch is opened, the bonnet (that's British for hood) gets opened and the inspection begins.
First John checks the floor at both front seats, in spite of the rain it's dry inside. I comment, "it leaks?' The reply, "Yup, but I parked on a slight hill and the water ran away from the passenger compartment." Whew, that was a close one. Now, for a peek under the bonnet. Check the transmission fluid, check the oil, take the air cleaner off and peer at the carb. Everything looks good. Next, a glance under the car. Having made sure that nothing from outside leaked in, it's time to be sure that nothing inside is leaking out. Looks good down there too. Finally, the lug wrench and pressure gauge. Tire pressure? Check! Lug nuts nice and tight? Check! Another question, "Do the lug nuts loosen by themselves?" Answer, "They've been known to." Great, there's something to ponder on the 900 miles home. Ignorance can be bliss, no more questions from me.
With the other woman's 20 point check complete -- did I even get a peck on the cheek that morning? -- we're on the road again. On to Niagara Falls, US side, expired passports, remember? Buffalo is about 210 miles away.
Rather than head back to I-90, we decide to meander through northern Ohio along the lake for a couple of hours. We took a nice drive through Sandusky which is a quaint little town, very much like many you'd see in New England. For the life of me, I can't remember why Sandusky seems significant to me. Maybe some famous baseball player hails from there, not really sure. It might be fireworks, they are made there, apparently legal in Ohio, and readily available for purchase. Anyway, we're on the outskirts of Sandusky, local suburban street with the windows down, and this guy pulls up next to my side of the car at a stop. He yells over, "Could you pull over so I can check out your car?" Why of course!
He's driving a Fiat X-19, obviously his other woman. Although the New Jersey in me has me recoiled and ready to fight off this carjacker, John happily gets out and lifts her bonnet. The spiel, "1971 Jensen Interceptor II, built in England, designed by Italians, Chrysler 383 V-8 under the bonnet, 81,000 original miles at the start of the trip." Now, obviously, we weren't carjacked, the guy with the Fiat got his kick for the day, and we were back on our way.
We were back in the Buffalo area by mid afternoon. For a second time, we opted not to head into town for wings. We were driving in the only daytime rain we would encounter, and quite frankly, Buffalo from the interstate holds about as much appeal as Cleveland did. Besides, this trip was about the ride, not the food – except for Dock's.
We head up to Niagara Falls. My last visit was 20 years ago, and John's not since he was a teen. Much has changed, much has not. We found a Howard Johnson Hotel at which to spend the night. While John is checking in, I use the lady's room. When I go out to help with the luggage, John is doing the arrival 20 point check, I'll spare you the details. In the lobby as I'm heading to our room, I hear the hotel manager say, "Hey, that's a Jensen, isn't it?" I glance over, arms full of luggage, and just a bit exasperated, I'm about to give the spiel, "1971, made in England, Chrysler under the bonnet, that's British for…. blah, blah, blah." He started laughing and explained that having never seen anything like it, he just had to go outside and check out the car. John had already educated him and the guy was just messing with me.
The rain had stopped, and, no, the car didn't leak. We wandered through the Niagara Falls State Park for a couple of hours, and had dinner at a Hard Rock Café. As I recall from my previous trip to the falls, the US side had far less to offer that the Canadian side, that hasn't changed. The views are also better from Canada, and Toronto is quite close by. If you make the trip, have your passport.
New to Niagara Falls since my last visit are the Seneca Niagara Hotel and Casino, and the US Customs Complex at the Rainbow Bridge that crosses into Canada.
We wandered into the Casino after dinner. I am the kind of gambler who might drop $10 on a $2 Blackjack table, or clean the quarters out of my purse and promptly lose them in a slot machine, but that's it. Actually I'm a pretty heavy gambler compared to my husband who, in the interest of a sure thing would rather throw his money in the ocean or over the falls in this case. So we wander in search of a $2 table, no luck. To the slot machines, I open my change purse pull out a few quarters, and find a seat. Now, this is how casino savvy I am. Did you know that you can't feed quarters to a slot machine anymore? The smallest bill they will 'eat' (and I mean that literally) is a five! On the outside chance you win, you don't even get the thrill of all the quarters pouring out, you just get a paper receipt that you have to redeem at the cashier. So I'm $5 poorer.
The US Customs facility was right near our hotel, and quite a sight. If you're wondering why I'm even talking about the place, it's because other than the falls and the state park, it's pretty much the only place of beauty or interest in town. After two or three passes by the place with John shooting photos each time, it occurred to me that the office portion of the building mimics the falls, and the vehicle drive through area mimics the rapids upstream from the falls. Pretty cool!
On Wednesday morning, it's continental breakfast again, and then down to the water to take a ride on the Maid of the Mist. For those of you not familiar, it's a ferry that brings passengers as close to the base of the falls as is safe. You will get wet, but it's worth it and was actually welcome on Wednesday as the weather was pretty hot and humid. We learned that the Rainbow Bridge just downstream from the falls, got its name from the rainbows that appear in the water's spray. While they are common during the day, when the conditions are just right, the rainbows can be seen at night too.
Back at the hotel, we check out, and, you got it, do the 20 point check. Thankfully, there was no overnight rain, so we didn't need to look for flood waters in the passenger compartment.
Having been teased with glimpses of the Erie Canal on our journey west, we decided to find a place to see it up close and personal on the way back.
Off to Lockport, NY about 25 miles east of Niagara. The original canal construction had five locks that navigated a 50' differential in elevation. The most recent reconstruction (early 1900's) has reduced the number to two. A portion of the original still stands and resembles a salmon ladder, if you ask me. It's so narrow, it's hard to imagine that a boat could actually pass through. Visitors can take a two hour boat tour that navigates through the newest locks. Unlike our own Songo Lock, there's a motor to open and close the gates here. For you canal lovers, New York State actually has a map that guides you through all the navigable canals and provides thumbnails by region of points of interest and general history.
From Lockport we decided to head out on a tertiary road that parallels the canal and Lake Ontario. While traveling route 114, we were once again out of pit stop sync. This time it was John's turn for the rest room. By now I have a major case of passenger sunburn my arm, shoulder, and neck. When we made the stop, rather than sit in the car with the sun beating down upon me, I go five feet away (close enough to keep an eye on our unlocked car with the keys hanging in the ignition) against the building where there's some shade.
While standing there, this guy comes out of the store, makes a bee-line for the car and begins circling like a shark. Again, the New Jersey in me is waiting for him to jump in and take off. Happily, again, I was wrong. After reading all the emblems on the vehicle, he gets on his cell phone and I hear him say, "Hey, you ever heard of a Jensen Interceptor, it's made in England and I've never seen anything like it, it's beautiful, looks like a Jag or an Aston Martin!" Now I'm truly laughing out loud as the proud owner shows up just in time to give the spiel.... (See the paragraph about the carjacker in Sandusky or the one about the hotel manager in Niagara).
This guy notices the Maine plates and asks whether we're coming or going. We explain that we're heading home. He suggests that we spend another night – which is out of the question due to work commitments -- in the area. He explains that during the time around the solstice, from this part of NY, on Lake Ontario, the CN Tower in Toronto appears to pierce the sun as it sets. Oh well, won't see that on this trip, but can plan accordingly next time.
We continued on 114 into Greece, (I guess Maine isn't the only state to name towns after European countries) just west of Rochester. Lunch at a TGI Friday's and back to I-90. At Albany, we ditched the interstate for route 7 and wound our way to Bennington VT, grabbed a bite, and continued to Brattleboro and through New Hampshire to the Maine Turnpike. We arrived home a 1:10 AM.
To sum things up, the round trip was 68 hours and 40 minutes door to door (about half of them spent driving). We traveled a total of 1,773 miles and averaged about 55 MPH, through 7 states. We definitely spent more money feeding the gas tank than we did feeding ourselves, and we drove 15 hours west to gain an extra hour of daylight on the solstice. I won't bore you with the gas mileage per tank or the cumulative mileage, and, yes, of course we calculated both! We didn't need the fire extinguisher or the tools except to check the lug nuts, and no liquid from the outside made it in, nor did any from the inside leak out. And although I stopped asking questions about the car, once we were home John felt the need to share the fact that he was certain that the transmission would have failed on the trip. Thankfully, he was wrong, and we didn't end up on a flatbed for the return trip.
Overall, our rather unusual solstice ritual was just what we hoped it would be. Solstice or not, we really liked the concept of picking a direction and driving as far as possible in one day. The real adventure is the way you meander your way back home, the people you encounter on the drive, and the local lure that you learn.
