5/29/12: Straight toll road travel for us across the top of Indiana and onto the Ohio Turnpike. Conrad is starting to chomp at the bit and wants to get to Maine. He doesn't even stop at the Duesenberg Museum, and I don't ask about visiting “Meno-Hof,” built by the Mennonites and Amish to showcase their heritage and craftsmanship. Another time, another trip. Even on the turnpike, we are passing beautiful farms with lovely barns, old and new, and lots of growing corn. We cross the wide Maumee River near Toledo. And, soon we are back on two-lane roads, our favorite way to see the country.
Now we are driving along the shore of Lake Erie. Even though it is one of the smaller of the Great Lakes, we cannot see the opposite shore. It is a huge inland sea, small waves lapping the beaches. Farmland stretches away on the non-lake side of the road, but big, pricey-looking houses, along with mobile home parks, itty-bitty rental beach cottages, and occasional harbors and marinas are along the shore. As we get closer to Cleveland, the houses become one giant, gorgeous, two-story home after another along both sides of the road in many styles: Craftsman, Colonial, Federalist, Georgian, and a few Victorians, and built of many materials: clapboard, stone, and red brick. And all sit on vast, vast expanses of lawn with no fences between them. Nearing Cleveland, the houses become closer together, and eventually they are all well-maintained, two and three-story wooden, clapboard houses with big front porches that in California probably would have become dilapidated boarding houses or apartments by now, but not here.
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| In Cleveland bridges are everywhere. |
We zip through Cleveland (“established in 1796”) with its old, ornate salt cellar-shaped skyscrapers peaking out below the new ones. Huge bulk carrier ships loaded with iron ore and coal sit offshore. Bridges are everywhere: railroad bridges, draw bridges - closed and open, fixed bridges, and fluff from cottonwood trees is blowing and caught on everything, just like spring along the Sacramento River.
On we drive, and drive, and drive, and drive. We cannot find a campground or a motel, and finally ask for help from our smart phone, which claims to direct us mile after mile, and turn after turn to a Motel 6, but only an empty field is at the final destination point and there is not a commercial building in sight – that smart phone isn't so smart after all. The turnpike is close and we know we'll find something there; sure enough, a Motel 6 – too funny!
5/30/12: We get back on the scenic route near the lake shore. We are in more modest neighborhoods now, and of course, almost first thing, drive by a campground and RV park, and then by some modest motels. We're cruising through a very kitschy beach town with carnival-like storefronts, and small food stand huts with roll-up metal windows – still closed, awaiting the start of the summer season.
It is sunny and bright today. The lake is blue; the trees are in every shade of green: lofty and leafy, towering over all of the homes, and lining the roads. The little townships and villages we are passing through often date back to the 1800's, and the homes are mostly two-story, wooden clapboard or brick. Flags are flying along the streets from Memorial Day, and they look so right in this classic Americana setting.
We skirt Erie, Pennsylvania, breezing along its waterfront and past boatworks, commercial piers where Great Lakes' bulk carriers are being loaded, and a maritime museum where an old-time brigantine sailing ship is docked. Conrad says that one-third of the earth's fresh water is in the Great Lakes.
Now we are nearing New York, and the agriculture is strawberries and vineyards. Red leaves occasionally appear among the green trees now – either maple or ornamental plum. I had forgotten how long it's been since we've seen a tree that isn't green! We stop in the village of Westfield for lunch and find we are in the Concord grape capital of the United States. Still, the grape milkshake, the grape float, and the grape spritzer on the menu don't tempt our taste buds - yuk.
Back on the road, it is not as lush looking as before and there are more ranch-style homes as we drive into central New York state. Soon we can see Buffalo in the distance, and along the shore on the way, incredibly enormous wind mills - even by Northern California standards. We drive by the Port of Buffalo and pass great clusters of gigantic abandoned grain elevators, as well as modern ones; in the city we see old spired and domed tall buildings among the newer skyscrapers. And, so many old red-brick factories and warehouses, some abandoned, some converted to lofts and condos.
As we leave Buffalo, the river is on our left and a bascule bridge (a drawbridge that tips up from one side) over the canal beside it. We drive along the Niagra River, looking for the place where the river is joined by the Erie Canal, and find it in the town of Tonawanda. We will be there on our boat later this summer - it will be our final stop on the Erie Canal before heading to the Great Lakes!
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| At Niagra Falls |
Back on the road, we can see the mist quite aways in the distance from Niagra Falls; it's not smoke because it isn't rising into the sky - a bit intimidating even from this far. When we get there, the falls are even more impressive than I remember from my seventh grade visit. We don't hike down to the lower viewing points because Conrad's back is bad today. And, the line for the elevator to a lower level is horrendously jammed full from the busloads of Mennonites on an outing. Conrad fits right in with all the men in their suspenders, but they aren't wearing shorts.
Next, it is on to Lockport where we will get to see what one of the locks we will pass through on our boat looks like. Too cool!
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