Day 54: Ready, Aim...

If we chose to live anywhere besides Colorado based on sheer beauty, Vermont would get our vote, at least thus far in the trip. It's simply gorgeous here...mountains, granite outcrops, lush trees, river gorges. On our northerly drive along the eastern side of the state today, we saw many "Moose Crossing" signs; I wanted to catch a photo of one, but I was so distracted by the beauty along the drive that the bright yellow signs snuck up on me...I missed every single opportunity.

Our original plan for today's drive was to cut across the lower portion of Vermont, heading northeast out of our campground in New York. But due to road conditions, we opted for a longer route that kept us on the main interstate system...much easier driving when towing a 13,000-pound trailer, which is nearly 13 feet tall. Aero-dynamic we're not! Anyway, we made the most of our circuitous route, which took us through Springfield, Mass., by grabbing yet another national park site. This one, the Springfield Armory, was unlike anything we'd seen before. It's the factory grounds authorized by General Washington during the Revolutionary War in order to supply the army with weapons. It played a significant role in the Civil War, too. Its operations didn't cease until 1968, at which time all weapons manufacturing was contracted to private suppliers.

Many innovations in weaponry, as well as in assembly-line manufacture, were developed at the Armory. In its early years, it produced 13,000 muskets per year, most of which were made entirely by hand. As machine inventions were implemented, production numbers rose exponentially. By 1861, it was turning out 100,000 per year; that number had doubled by the end of 1862. Such leaps were made possible by the use of duplicating machines; the first such mechanism, a lathe that essentially cut a gun stock from raw wood using a steel template, is on display. It was powered by the Connecticut River, which ran below the factory, operating gears and belts connected to water wheels at the river level. Such ingenuity.

And just to touch on the humorous differences between boys and girls...we walked into the building alongside a boy and his family. (He appeared to be about Kelsey's age, 9.) His immediate comment was, "Ooohhh, I just LOVE the smell of gun oil!" And the first words from our girls? "Oh, look! We get to dress up in a ranger uniform!"

One of the very first duplicating machines

 The Organ...stacked rifles

The main building of the armory...one of many impressive structures, most of which are now used as a college campus

Day 53: Bird's Eye View

Our last day in the area. We headed to Albany to check out the Empire State Plaza, a large area of fountains and monuments surrounded by office buildings and the capital. The best way to see it is from above…42 stories up the Corning Tower to the Observation Level. From that height, it’s also easy to see the Hudson River as it winds its way south. The governor’s mansion is beside the tower; funny to think what Teddy Roosevelt, Grover Cleveland, FDR and other NY governors from the distant past would think of the current next-door neighbor.

The most unusual structure in the plaza is known as The Egg--a 1,000-seat concert hall. Look it up online…it’s unlike anything we’ve seen before. It looks like an enormous egg that’s been cut in half lengthwise and placed round-side-down on the ground.

Next we headed below ground to the concourse…a huge complex beneath the plaza that contains at least three banks, parking garages, numerous restaurants and food courts, college recruitment office, a post office, a florist, and other shops that serve the 11,000+ state workers in the buildings connected to it. Kelsey bought postcard stamps, charming the postman…I don’t think he sells many postcard stamps down there.

We picnicked in the center of the Plaza, hoping to say a quick hello to Governor Cuomo and thank him for his state’s hospitality, then drove home to tackle some schoolwork, a bit of bike-riding, and get the place ready for tomorrow’s move to Vermont. We’ll be back in New York in September, arriving in the southern part of the Hudson Valley just after the 10^th Anniversary of the attacks. Hard to believe we’re already nearing the northernmost point of our adventure, and then it’s all south, hopefully in navigation only.

View from the Corning Tower, the Egg in the foreground

New York Capital

Evil Knievel Stevens

Day 52: Ahoy, Maties!

Who knew we could drive 45 minutes north and reach Europe! Our three-hour cruise (yes, the Gilligan song came to mind!) on Lake George was lovely…clear water surrounded by beautiful mountains, and waterfront resorts fit for a king. We were onboard a 103-year-old vessel, the Mohican, that’s seen many overhauls since her days as a supply boat for the hotels and mansions surrounding the lake. Lake George is 32 miles long, with islands dotting its length. Most of the 200 islands are owned by New York state and operated as campgrounds. Too bad Teensie can’t fit on the Mohican…we’d be back at the nearest island in a heartbeat!

The captain took us into Paradise Bay, which really doesn’t resemble a bay at all; it’s more like a postage-stamp opening in the water between a group of islands along the lake’s eastern edge. He’s obviously done the trick many times, but it was still quite exciting for us and all the other passengers…we seemed only inches away from the rocky shores. Stan said it reminded him of the secluded coves his grandpa’s skipper, Bob, piloted into on the family’s boat adventures in Alaska.

Once on land, we skirted the eastern edge of Lake George on our way up to Fort Ticonderoga, a place of tremendous history, considered the key to the continent by various armies over the centuries. It sits on a point between Lake George and Lake Champlain, with incredible views in every direction.  A French trading post, built on the site in 1667, was replaced by a fort in 1755 to ensure France’s control of the important passage. In 1758, a British force of 17,000 troops attempted to gain the fort but was utterly defeated by 3,700 French and Canadians. The Brits returned the next year, and the outcome was reversed, though this time without bloodshed: the French were terribly unprepared and abandoned the fort. The British held it for 16 years, usually with a small garrison, and let it fall into disrepair.

In 1775, colonial forces under the command of Ethan Allen and Benedict Arnold captured Fort Ticonderoga in what became the first victory of the Revolution. The following year, Henry Knox and a small band of militia transported much of its remaining artillery and ammunition (42 sleds carrying 59 cannon--60 tons!), in the dead of winter, over land and water, to Boston to break the stalemate with the holed-up British and give life to the war and the dejected American forces.  It’s an incredible story, and there are many artistic renderings of it in the fort, as well as examples of the guns and other artillery.

Sorry for the “lecture”…but Ticonderoga’s history is so colorful and deserves much more than what we can recount here. This blog is our record of what we’ve seen, and we’ll need these notes to remember the details when they’ve become buried among so many other facts along our way.

Islands in the "Narrows" of Lake George

Paradise Bay

"Cottage" belonging to the owner of the Boston Red Sox

Mohican's dock (with paddle-wheeler Minne-ha-ha) in front of historic Fort William Henry, inspiration for James Fennimore Cooper's "Last of the Mohicans"

Fort Ticonderoga looking over Lake Champlain

Kelsey could barely lift this 1770s-replica musket

Kendall is da bomb!

Day 51: Cowabunga, Dude!

A day of play...the pool here has a fun slide, and while I paid bills and did laundry (cue violin), Stan and the girls perfected their tricks. Later, a bit of bike-riding convinced Stan that Kendall is nearly ready for training wheels to be removed. And Kelsey lost another tooth at lunch--her fourth in two months! The tooth fairy is going broke.


Tomorrow, historic Fort Ticonderoga and a cruise on Lake George.

Day 50: Backroads

 We rambled through the Berkshires of western Massachusetts this morning on our way to the Norman Rockwell museum in Stockbridge. It's easy to see why the area was so inspirational for Rockwell and his view of America...everywhere we looked was a scene prettier than the last. Many "cottages" of the rich were caught in glimpses through the trees; tennis courts were hidden behind picturesque barns and gardens. And the land isn't wasted; we saw rows of corn planted on a steep slope that had a ski lift running up its middle...an out-of-season use for a winter resort!

The Rockwell Museum was a trip to the land of nostalgia; all of his Saturday Evening Post covers and many other significant paintings are exhibited in a lovely gallery. And just a few steps away, his studio is open to the public. It's presented in a mid-1960s representation of his working years, when he was at the height of his skill and output. We believed he and his work were primarily beloved by Americans, so we were quite surprised to hear many languages spoken among the other visitors today: French, German, Dutch and what we would guess as Vietnamese. Also, we didn't expect crowds that rivaled what we've encountered on one of the busier days at a national park. Evidently, Rockwell still speaks into hearts. It's fun to see our kids discover him for the first time while others are obviously remembering when certain pieces made their first appearance on the scene of the American conscience.

We decided to let our truck's navigation system, fondly known as "Lauren," direct our path to our next stop: Lindenwald, home of Martin Van Buren, our 8th president. She gave us a choice of fastest or shortest, and as they were both the same in terms of time, we opted for shortest. Boy, were we in for a crazy but fun ride! We were directed along logging roads, heading west into the southern Albany area of New York. The compass relieved any fears...we knew our direction was correct. We never needed the 4-wheel drive on the truck, but we weren't far from engaging it a couple of times!

The Van Buren estate is quite beautiful, and there's a sad undertone to it that spoke to us. His wife died just 12 years into their young marriage, leaving him with four sons. He never remarried. A successful lawyer, he provided a comfortable existence for all of them and was, over time, a popular judge, state senator, federal senator and Secretary of State (to Andrew Jackson) before he was elected to the presidency in 1836. Just days following his inauguration in 1837, the banking system collapsed, mostly due to overextension on land deals that were grossly inflated. Sound familiar? His term was clouded by the disaster, and his two subsequent runs for the presidency were failures.

Van Buren purchased Lindenwald while in his term as president, and over the years he and his sons ordered many modifications and improvements to the house, including doubling its size, changing the exterior to an Italianate design, and the additions of a "modern" kitchen, laundry room and a four-story tower from which his fields and orchards were visible. In his retirement years, he enjoyed his life as a "gentleman farmer," surrounded by his sons and their families.

One fact we found particularly interesting about Van Buren: he was the first president born under the United States flag; all previous presidents had been born into British citizenship in the colonies.

Rockwell's studio--a converted buggy barn--in background

On our all-terrain trek back to New York state

Van Buren's study, overlooking some of the beautiful grounds

looking up the four-story stairwell of Lindenwald's tower

on the front porch of Lindenwald

Day 49: Turning Point

We visited Saratoga National Historical Park today, which memorializes the two battles fought on its fields in 1777. Many historians say that the October 7 victory won by the Americans over the British that year was the most important not only of the Revolutionary War, but of the last 1,000 years. While not large in scale or casualities when compared with other battles, it was nonetheless the first decisive victory over King George III's army (considered the best in the world at that time) and lead to France's decision to declare war on Britain, turning the colonists' rebellion into a world war.

The national park consists of an auto tour that takes visitors to key places in the campaigns' topography...the key skirmishes, headquarters, fortifications and even a wheat field in which British scouts were attacked while gathering grain to feed the besieged army. The countryside, which overlooks the Hudson River, is serene and beautiful. We found it difficult to imagine the hard-fought engagements of 235 years ago.  One building remains from that time...a farmhouse that was used as a command headquarters by the American forces. Outside its front door, the girls learned the steps necessary to load and fire a musket (using wooden sticks, not the real thing!), drill in military formation and patrol the field. Kelsey was especially convincing in her light blue sunglasses. :-)

We drove a few miles north to complete the experience, climbing the 188 steps of the 155-foot obelisk erected in 1877 to commemorate the site of the British surrender following the 2nd Battle of Saratoga. We learned it's one of four such obelisks in the country, the tallest being the Washington Monument in D.C.  The Saratoga Monument has four niches near its base, but only three contain statues of key commanders in the battles. The fourth is empty and would have held a statue of Benedict Arnold, perhaps one of the greatest military leaders of his time and without whom the Battle of Saratoga would have surely ended in the Americans' defeat. Arnold's name is not found anywhere within the park, and the niche is bare, due to his treasonous defection in 1780. Had he stayed the course with the Colonists, historians theorize his name would be memorialized throughout the country in similar fashion to Washington's. We're listening to an A&E podcast about him and are intrigued to learn more about this complicated man who is often likened to Napoleon in temperament and talent.

As our journey has brought us to this Mid-Atlantic part of the country, which played host to so many significant events in our nation's birth, we're challenged to stay focused and keep dates and names in their correct places. Getting lots of sleep is going to be key, and we're committing to get to bed earlier than midnight, which has become a bit of a habit in recent weeks! On that note, goodnight!

Saratoga recruits

Our lunchtime view over the fields of Saratoga

Cannon position above the Hudson River

Farmhouse used as American headquarters

155-foot Saratoga Monument...the empty niche is on the far side

View from the top of the monument, Vermont is in the distance

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Day 48: When in Rome...

We're settled into a charming campground north of Albany, and Stan's out socializing with the neighbors at their campfire! This will be brief and sans photos this evening; this place has Internet service, but only at the lodge, which prevents me from my best writing posture: reclined in bed with my jammies on.

We journeyed across the state on I-90, a toll-road. The price was pretty steep for four axles, but the smooth road was well worth it. So why the title tonight? We stopped in Rome, NY, to visit Fort Stanwix, a significant outpost during the French and Indian War and one which endured a grueling siege by the British during the early years of the Revolutionary War. We saw a group of re-enactors fire a three-pound cannon--it's LOUD!--and learned about the limited (and often misguided) medical care available to the 500 troops stationed there in the mid-1700s. We came away very grateful for Tylenol, Walgreens, excellent doctors and readily available showers.

We hope to find a Starbucks or some other place with wifi tomorrow so that we can enjoy a livestream of Stan's dad preaching in Colorado Springs...a rare treat now that he's retired. After that, we'll probably take in Saratoga NP, just a few miles away. The Adirondacks are calling to us.

the girls are partway across the bridge into heavily-fortified Fort Stanwix

spectators at a 3-pound cannon demonstration