Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • She-Qua-Ga Falls

      In the town of Montour Falls, New York there is a stunning waterfall that looks like it’s flowing right into the homes that sit at the base.  When you drive down West Main Street, as I did, its a shock to look up and see this magnificent waterfall cascading down onto the town.  It was a wow moment on par with coming through the Webster Tunnel on I-376 in Pittsburgh to have the entire city open up in front of you.

      Seeing the falls with high water in the creek is a must.  I saw it on a warm February day with rain and melt-off fueling the tumbling waters.  Apparently that’s what She-Qua-Ga means; tumbling waters.  It’s not the only waterfall in Montour Falls – I’d also visited Eagles Nest Falls a couple of minutes away from She-Qua-Ga Falls, but it’s the most accessible.  You don’t have to get out of your car to be blown away by it, but of course you must.  Seeing a waterfall from afar is not the same as feeling the mist dance on your face and hearing the roar of the cascading water.  You should have a relationship with a waterfall, otherwise what’s the point?

      Anyone who knows me knows I like to dance with ghosts, and there’s a real tango with history at the base of She-Qua-Ga Falls.  This was the place where Queen of the Seneca/Iroquois Catherine Montour lived.  Several of the place names nearby honor her, including Catherine, Montour and Montour Falls.  It was the place where Red Jacket, who signed the Treaty of Canandaigua after the Revolutionary War, practiced his speeches.  If Fort Stanwix tore lands away from the Iroquois, Canandaigua promised to give some of this land back.  For the once mighty Iroquois to cede these lands to the new United States must have been a devastating and bitter pill to swallow.

      Around 1820 Louis Philippe, later the “Citizen King” of France from 1830 to 1848, sketched the falls from roughly the spot where I was standing taking them in when he was in exile.  At some point I’ll try to take a picture of that sketch and update this post with it.  For now, I’ve had the opportunity to see the real thing.

    • Lick Brook Falls

      This morning I woke up and thought I’d tackle one more waterfall before I shut down this grand tour of Ithaca area waterfalls.  I drove 7 minutes up the road to Lick Brook Falls at Buttermilk Falls State Park.  This is a lovely and quiet spot, especially on a Sunday morning with icy, muddy trails to contend with.  So on went the micro spikes over the boots.  I’ve worn that combo a lot this weekend and never was it more needed than on this hike.  Steep downhill stretches were a sheet of ice, all the more treacherous because if you slipped you’d likely end up in the fast moving stream.

      So I cautiously made my way down the icy trail.  I’m not timid, but I do have a fondness for living.  And not getting hurt again.  After all I was flat on my back cracking a rib just two weeks ago.  I’m getting older but I still remember THAT.  I also did the mental math – I was one of two cars parked the trail head, and what were the odds of me being discovered should I slip?  Not good.

      No sooner had I said that than a trail runner came dashing down the hill behind me.  It was his fourth loop of the trail I was hiking down.  And yes, he was wearing micro spikes, but he was also hustling down the steep icy path I’d just descended.  And he was wearing shorts.

      I told him that he was a better man than me, got a quick download on the trail ahead and wished him God speed.  He reminded me of the thru hikers we saw hiking through Mahoosuc Notch.  I’d be moving at what I thought was a decent speed only to have those thru hikers blow right by me.  All you can do is salute them and move along at the speed that makes sense for you.  And that’s exactly what I did with that trail runner.

      Lick Brook Falls is really three falls.  The from the bottom to the top, Lower Lick Brook Fall drops 25 feet, moving up the trail, Middle Lick Brook Falls drops 47 feet and then Upper Lick Brook Falls drops 93 feet.  This third drop ranks Lick Brook Falls as the fifth highest waterfall in the Ithaca area.  It’s similar to Lucifer Falls for its relative isolation compared to the other falls on the top five, but unique for its three drops.  This one reminded me a lot of hiking along a mountain stream in the White Mountains.  The hemlock, oaks and maple trees certainly helped with that impression.

      Ultimately I did three more waterfalls today, but I’ll save those for another post or two.  If I’d just done this one today I’d have called today a victory.  There are some incredible stories that came out of the others, and they’re worth a post of their own.  Hiking the “blue” Lick Brook Trail in February paid off with plenty of water, ice sculptures and isolation.  It occurred to me more than once on the trail that there was nowhere else I’d rather have been at that moment.

      According to the Sweedler adn Thayer Preserves website, this area was protected from development when “Moss Sweedler purchased the “Lost Gorge” in the 1970s, and understanding its uniqueness, decided to leave it to the Finger Lakes Land Trust in his will.  But in 1989, the Land Trust let the Sweedlers know that Lick Brook was a top priority for protection, recognizing the development pressure in the area and the site’s exceptional beauty, and in 1993 the Land Trust purchased 128 acres from Moss and Kristin Sweedler at a bargain price, creating the Sweedler Preserve at Lick Brook.  Since then the preserve has provided public access to one of the most remarkable waterfalls and gorges in the area.”

    • Four Waterfalls in One Afternoon

      I found myself with an afternoon to myself today while in Ithaca, New York.  Ithaca is a great college town with plenty of restaurants to choose from and enough shopping to occupy those who are inclined to spend their lives in retail environments.  I’m not one of those people.

      I decided to make the waterfall circuit.  Now, Ithaca has a lot of waterfalls and I only had half a day of daylight to work with, so I tried to choose wisely.  You can’t go to Ithaca and not view Ithaca Falls, so that was on the list.  But so was Buttermilk Falls, Taughanock Falls and Lucifer Falls.

      I started with Taughanock Falls.  This was the furthest away but one I really wanted to hike to.  I drove out to Ulysses and changed into my winter boots for the hike.  I’d contemplated this hike before I drove out here so I also put on micro spikes, as I expected the conditions to be icy.  My expectations were met.  The path to the falls was about a mile long with a mix of ice, snow and mud.  I passed 50 or 60 people on this walk and I was the only one wearing micro spikes.  A few people pointed to them and said they wished they’d thought to bring them too.  Taughanock Falls on a mild February day were spectacular.

      Next on the list was Buttermilk Falls.  This one was right down the street from my hotel and easy to get to.  No hiking boots required, just park and walk over to take a picture.  Buttermilk Falls are beautiful, but there’s no real effort required to see them.  I like to earn my scenic vistas.

      Third waterfall was Ithaca Falls.  This is another easy one right off the road.  In fact, you can technically see the falls from the road, which is how we first discovered them.  But I put on my boots again and walked out to the falls for another picture.  Quick walk but well worth the effort to get closer.

      Finally, I drove out to the Robert H. Treman State Park to see Lucifer Falls.  Waze sent me past the state park parking lot to the service road on the other side of the Enfield Creek.  This ended up working out really well as there was a nice path down to the creek on that side.  This was another hike where micro spikes were invaluable.  I’m not sure I would have chanced the hike without them.  This hike reminded me of New Hampshire.  There were hemlock trees shading the path, and with the icy conditions I was one of the only people out on the trail. 

      There’s a bumper sticker available in many of the stores in Ithaca that says “Ithaca is Gorges”.  It’s a nice play on words of course, but right on point; Ithaca’s Gorges are indeed gorgeous.  When you get off the city streets Ithaca offers plenty of views that are well worth the effort to find.  I’m glad to have had the opportunity to see these four waterfalls today.  I’ll definitely go back to each one again, and especially Lucifer Falls.

    • Margaritas and Marketing

      Margaritas and Marketing

      Today is National Margarita Day.  If I didn’t know that on my own, I’d surely have figured it out by the sheer number of social media updates, banners on restaurants and radio banter.  I don’t generally drink margaritas.  They’re up on the list with orange juice on the acidic no no scale.  When I was younger, I’d pop a few Tums, deal with any cankers I might acquire for indulging and plunge right in.  No more.

      But that doesn’t mean I won’t celebrate in my own way.  I’m just not buying into a national day designed to sell more of something phenomenon.  I march to the beat of my own drum, and I’ll toast the margarita drinkers with a rum drink or beer.  Cheers!

    • Ulster Scots & Potatoes

      Ulster Scots & Potatoes

      The Ulster Scots settled in New England in 1718.  They weren’t coming here to make their fortune, they were coming for survival.  The Ulster Scots were caught between the British and the Irish when forced to out of their homelands in the early 1600’s to the ancestral homelands of the Irish in the County of Ulster.  Civil Wars and massacres in Ulster threatened to wipe out the population.  Many of these people, seeing no hope for the future in Ulster, migrated to America.

      The Governor of Massachusetts in 1718 was Samuel Shute.  Shute was looking at the ongoing threat from the French and Indians on the fringes of civilization and felt that these immigrants would be a great buffer.  So the Ulster Scots settled in what is today Maine and New Hampshire in great numbers.  The Nutfield Grant brought many of these migrants to New Hampshire in 1719, in what is now Derry, Windham and Londonderry.
      One of the leaders of these Ulster Scots was the Reverend James McGregor.  McGregor is credited with being the first person to plant potatoes in America.  And since he did this in Nutfield, this makes New Hampshire the first place on the North American continent to grow potatoes.  
      Potato crops are still big in New England, but not so much in New Hampshire.  The Granite State’s nickname is a stark reality for farmers.  There’s a reason there are stone walls all over the place here.  The rocky soil makes farming tough for anyone.  When your survival is based on what you grew that season, you’d better start with decent soil.

      Most of the potato farms are in Northern Maine, with more than 55,000 acres of farmland dedicated to potato crops in Aroostook County.  It seems that the farmers are mostly Irish and not Ulster Scots.  The original Nutfield Grant doesn’t have any potato farms that I know of, but they’ll be celebrating their 300th anniversary this year.

    • Snow Plows

      Snow Plows

      People who live in tropical environments rarely if ever experience the sound of the plow.  Living in New England, I hear it more often than I’d like to.  Sometimes I hear it and think back fondly to snow days in school.  Sometimes I hear it and think I’ve got a rough commute ahead of me and better hustle outside to clear the driveway before I’m late.  Either way, I always think it a pleasant sound.

      The sound of the plow happens at any time of day when its snowing of course, but it’s most meaningful when it wakes you from your sleep early in the morning.  The scraping sound of a plow against pavement starts as a distant but unmistakeable rumble that increases in volume and vibration as it approaches your house and eventually fades away as it moves past.  Usually there’s another one following close behind to widen the path that the first plow is carving into the street.  Living on a cul de sac, I know that this sound will return within a few minutes once they’ve completed the circle at the end of the street.

      The sound of the plow is a wake-up call.  Normally the sound of the plow would be followed closely by the phone ringing an automated message that the kids don’t have school.  Time to get out and clear the driveway.  Will it be shovel or snowblower?  We’ll see soon enough.  Back when I was a kid you needed to turn on the news and hope you’d see your town’s name scroll across the bottom of the screen or hear someone read the name on the radio.  Nowadays there’s no drama – you get the text message and automated call well before you’d see it on the television screen.

      The plow invokes mostly positive memories for me despite the call to labor on the driveway that it offers.  Contrast to the sound of the trash truck approaching, which can be panic-inducing if you forgot to put the barrels out.  Living on a cul de sac, I’ve been saved a few times over the years by rolling the barrels across the street to have them picked up on the return trip.

      There have been a few battles over the years with the plow guy.  I stake the curve on the street so that the plows don’t ride across the front edge of my lawn and rip it up.  In years when we get a lot of snow the plow guys (or ladies) grow increasingly ambivalent about the border between street and lawn and inevitably they’ll encroach on the yard mowing down my line of fiberglass stakes.  In those moments my goodwill towards the plow turns to righteous indignation.  But I know they have a tough job to do and generally I’ll give them a pass.  After all, they’re up all night plowing while I’m fast asleep, dreaming of snow days.

    • Learning the Hard Way

      Learning the Hard Way

      “Do what you love + low overhead = a good life.  Do what you love + I deserve nice things = time bomb.” – Austin Kleon

      Put another way, don’t live outside your means, for it will eventually catch up with you.  That’s a lesson I distinctly remember hearing when I was in high school, but it didn’t resonate.  It’s not until you get older with responsibilities heaped onto you and some bad financial decisions along the way, that you really learn this one.

      The best way to learn is through the mistakes of others.  That’s what being a student of life will teach you if you’re paying attention.  Most people don’t pay attention.  We’re all human, and as humans we stumble along the way.  The key is how quickly you recover.  We’re all more resilient than we think we are, but lord life has a way of testing you.  The best decisions I’ve made in life – getting married again and becoming a father – come with a price.  Many people aren’t ready to pay that price.  My first wife wasn’t ready to pay that price.  My current wife was.

      “Fool me once, shame on you.  Fool me twice, shame on me.” – Unknown

      Sometimes learning involves trusting the wrong people.  I’ve made the same mistake a few times over in jobs I’ve had over the years.  Join a company, look around and realize it isn’t at all as it was portrayed when you were interviewing, decide to tough it out and make the most of it.  Eventually part ways when it’s clear to both sides that this thing isn’t going to work.  Repeat.

      The older I get, the more I realize that we’re all just trying to figure it out.  We all would have done many things differently along the way.  I’d have taken more risks early in my career.  Traveled more.  Lived in different countries.  Joined the Navy after college.  Written more.  Started a business instead of working for others.

      That’s the curse of perspective.  Most of us learn the hard way.  I’m no exception.  I’m smart enough to learn from other’s bad examples in partying too much, burning bridges, buying expensive toys, running with the wrong crowd, being a negligent parent or a helicopter parent, etc. just as I’m smart enough to learn from other’s positive examples of consistent exercise, holding your tongue, surrounding yourself with people who raise you up, and being fully engaged with your children while giving them space to learn and grow.

      “The eye sees only what the mind is prepared to comprehend.” – Robertson Davies

      “When the student is ready the teacher will appear.” – Buddhist Proverb

      I’ve heard this Buddhist proverb for years and generally believe it to be true.  It can be applied to larger milestones in life, but on a granular level it applies to any moment.  When you stop the internal dialogue spinning in your own head long enough to pay attention to what’s in front of you, you’re ready to take in that information.  And that makes all the difference.

    • Old Growth Pine

      New England is covered in forest today, but it’s a different forest than the one that greeted the first settlers to the region.  Back then old growth trees dominated the landscape.  And the tallest of these trees were the white pines.

      White pines were tall and straight and thus highly attractive for ship masts.  Surveyors went through the forests of New England and marked the best of these trees with an arrow slash to designate that the tree was the property of the king.

      The high demand for masts for the British Navy depleted the old growth pine forests of New England by the 1770’s, right about when the colonists were beginning to rebel against the Intolerable Acts that would permanently separate the American Colonies from Great Britain.  This didn’t mean a reprieve for the white pines, as the shipbuilding market shifted focus from the British Navy to merchants ships.

      The forests have grown back, but it would be fascinating to time machine back to 1500 AD to see what New England looked like then.  If you get deep into the woods on a quiet morning, you can hear the wind blow through the white pine needles.  It’s not hard to imagine the call of the sea from this sound.

    • Arlington Mill Reservoir

      There are two ponds that flow into the Spicket River that helped supply the Arlington Mills in Lawrence with its water.  Each pond has a unique history worthy of a closer look.  Arlington Mill Reservoir, or today just Arlington Pond, and Big Island Pond, which borders Derry, Atkinson and Hampstead, New Hampshire.  Big Island Pond flows into Arlington Pond, which then flows into the Spicket River, which powers the Arlington Mills before eventually flowing into the Merrimack River and ultimately the Atlantic Ocean.

      Arlington Pond occupies 269 acres and is located in Salem, New Hampshire.  In 1919, 100 years ago this year, Arlington Mills purchased the land surrounding and underneath what is now the pond.  The next year they began construction of a 48 foot tall dam, which they called the Wheeler Dam, after the Wheeler Mill that once occupied the site.  In 1923 they completed the dam and filled the reservoir.  In doing so a stretch of Old North Salem Road and the foundations for the original mill buildings were submerged.  That would be an interesting dive site.

      People bought the land around the lake.  According to the Arlington Pond Protective Association, “The land surrounding the lake was owned by Thomas Kittredge, Sr. He owned a coffee shop in Haverhill, Massachusetts and sold parcels of the land to his customers; the lots were nicknamed “Coffee Pot Lots”.” – APPA

      I don’t see Arlington Pond often, but I hear it.  Boats, fireworks, snowmobiles and ATV’s are loud enough at night that the sound travels to where I live.  I’m roughly halfway between Arlington Pond and Big Island Pond.  And while Arlington Pond is much more accessible from a viewing standpoint, I’ve spent much more time on and in Big Island Pond.  Where Arlington has built up around the entire  shoreline, Big Island Pond has a more rural feel thanks to the protected land at Governor’s Island.  But Arlington has it’s charms too.  At some point I’d like to get on the pond and go for a swim there. Then again, you might say that I’ve already swum in the water before it gets there.

    • Wind Turbines

      Wind turbines keep popping up.  30 years ago you’d be hard pressed to find one in New England.  Today they’re seemingly everywhere.  And yet the New England states lag far behind other states like Texas, Oklahoma, Iowa, Illinois, New York, California and Oregon.  That middle swath of the country is all prairie, the land is cheap and the wind plentiful.  That’s a great recipe for wind turbines.

      New England is working to catch up.  There are plenty of wind turbines popping up.  But solar seems to be the green energy of choice.  Which is funny when you think about the number of sunny days versus the number of windy days.  Wind just seems like a logical choice.

      The biggest wind farm project in New England was Cape Wind, an offshore wind farm situated south of Cape Cod that would have produced 468MW from 130 turbines.  But it was in the wrong place.  The rich people in Nantucket and Hyannis objected to the prospect of looking out from their beachside mansions and seeing wind turbines.  So after 16 years the Cape Wind project was cancelled.  And billionaires celebrated.

      When I look out at Buzzards Bay in Pocasset, I can see eight wind turbines that were built in Wareham and Bourne.  Have they changed the view?  Absolutely.  But I don’t mind seeing them.  To me wind turbines represent a sustainable future state.  I hope my grandchildren and great-grandchildren have a world worth living in.  And I wonder about people who think only of themselves and the view they have.  Selfish narcissist bastards I believe.  There are way too many of those inhabiting the world nowadays.