Mystic Seaport

It was a chilly November morning when we entered the seventy-five acre museum. We were in Mystic, Connecticut, at the mouth of the Mystic River.  It had been  a long time since I had seen those gorgeous color photographs in National Geographic Magazine. That day we would see Mystic Seaport, the Museum of America and the Sea for real. We had parked our car and crossed the street and entered by the guardian tugboat.

Before buying our tickets we were looking out at the river when we starting chatting with a nattily dressed gentleman installing a banner advertising a gallery.  He told us quite a bit about what we were going to see. You can only access the museum though the ticketing building.  We managed to get senior citizen discounts as well as AAA. That was good. Our tickets came with wristbands to identify us as visitors and a map with a schedule of events. The crisp winter air smelled fresh and we immediately noticed the lack of the odor of pluff mud. There was not much of a smell of salt either. But the the salt content was probably quite low in the river. At first we looked at a couple of steel hulled boats one was a trawler and the other a ferry. Claudette snapped my photo sitting in a dory doing my best impression of the Gordons fisherman. There are over sixty buildings in the restored mid-nineteenth century seaport. Mystic Seaport was the largest shipyard on the east coast at one time during the period of wooden sailing ships.  As we walked the gravel streets among the quaint shops and houses there was almost an eerie feeling. There were few visitors on that early Sunday morning. Some of the buildings were locked and many of the demonstrators were absent they would be there later in the day.  In one building there was the remnants of a large sailing ship.   There were no masts on theAustralia.   It was like a skeleton. Claudette went into the hold, but I could see her since planking was missing between the ribs. It was easy to see how the ship was constructed.  I found that interesting. Later in a smaller building we saw a collection of catboats. Most of those exhibited the epitome of the boatbuilders craft.  From there we saw a most unusual building housing the cordage production machinery. Sailing ships used hundreds of feet of rope of various sizes and it was made in that building which was over three football fields long.  It was an interesting process.  Twisting hemp. The first ship we went aboard had once been a yatch. But that was after the Conrad had been built as a training vessel.  The docent was very knowledgable but there is something about sailing ships with steel hulls that I don't like.  Maybe it's because they don't creak. There are over twenty watercraft of various sizes at Mystic Seaport to explore. There is a lighthouse there as well. I found it rather amusing because it was not very tall. But then it was positioned on a river and not the ocean.  One of the buildings held a 1/128 scale model of the entire seaport. This recreated seaport in miniature was over fifty feet long. The detail was incredible.  Each tiny house had its own privy! Perhaps, the greatest and best known attraction of Mystic Seaport is the Charles W. Morgan. It is an original nineteenth century whaling ship. The ship was launched in 1841 and took her first whale in December of that year. When we first saw the ship which towers over everything they had launched a whaleboat and were moving toward the bow of the ship. We approached the ship from the stern and entered a small building nearby.  It housed harpoons and and other whaling artifacts as well as a whale boat. There was also a diagram of how to butcher a whale. After leaving this display we boarded the ship.  We walked toward the aft part of the ship and Claudette took my picture at the helm.  The helm is where the ship is steered. The ship's wheel was at least four feet in diameter. I was surprised to notice that while at the wheel I could not see the sea.  But I could see the compass. We went below deck by way of a narrow curving stairway. I was surprised that it was not a ladder. At one hundred thirteen feet long and three hundred thirteen tons the ship was big enough to have a stairway which led to the captain's quarters. On whaling ships like merchant ships of the era the captain's entire family followed him to sea. I found it interesting that the captain's double bed was mounted so that it remained level when the ship was not. As we walked forward in this ocean going whale processing plant of wood we went through the crews quarters. There was a compliment of thirty-three men at sea to kill and process the largest mammals on earth. And they had to sail the ship too. Whale oil was in big demand. Until the advent of kerosene whale oil was used in lamps for lighting. Another surprise for me was that I could stand up in most places and I'm almost six feet tall. We left the ship with a better understanding of whaling and the life of a seaman aboard a whaling ship.

We exited Mystic Seaport and began our trek further north.

The Christmas Mouse

For several years now at our annual Christmas party one of the favorite treats have been the chocolate mice. These chocolate mice are actually Californians. Several years ago when we were visiting Claudette's sister she showed us one she had frozen. There it was like some prehistoric beast frozen in time. We took photographs and

tried to remember Bev's description of the process. It was a learning experience that came to a good end. 

From the photograph you can see what's needed. 

• Oreo cookies
• dipping chocolate
• Maraschino cherries with stems intact
• slivered almonds
• Hershey's Kisses
• red cake decorating frosting in a tube

 Some notes about assembly:

1. Remove half of an Oreo cookie. Use the half with the center still attached.

2. We used the microwaveable chocolate for dipping the cherries. If you are making many you may have to reheat.

3. Take the cherries out of the containers, and let them drain on some paper towels before dipping. The cherry juice affects consistency of the chocolate.

4. The head (Hershey's Kiss) must be attached while the chocolate on the "body" is soft.

5. Insert "ears" while the chocolate is soft, but after it has cooled a little, so the ears don't droop.

6. Add "eyes & nose" after chocolate hardens. Also add any other decoration you might like.

My friend Tom tells me that the proper way to eat a mouse is to hold it by the tail, and down the hatch it goes. 

H-m-m...isn't that the way the aliens ate them on that old TV show "V"?

Bubba and the Alligator

Dear Tony,

When I first moved to the Carolina low country I was some what fascinated by alligators. I mean those seemingly prehistoric beasties were everywhere.  They were even on the sacred golf courses of the big shots.

I was living in a place near the Intracoastal Waterway and had a canoe in my bedroom. One day I got it out and put it in a creek.  It was in the spring. No one had told me that when them old gators had just woke up from a long winter’s nap they were very hungry.  I mean really, really hungry! This fact would figure in my near demise.

Anyway I launched my boat, an Old Town, and headed up the creek.  There’s something about that term “up the creek” that I’m not real fond of. As I paddled on my lowcountry adventure the creek began to narrow. Off to my left I saw a big alligator slide into the water. It was just like in those Tarzan movies I saw in my youth. I was busy watching the creek bank when something rubbed the bottom of the boat.  It even lifted the canoe up out of the water. At first I didn’t know what it was. But when I felt that rough rub I knew that it was a gator. And it wasn’t a little bitty one either.  I paddled a bit faster.  Actually a lot faster! The I saw him.  He was longer that the boat!  It was then that I realized that I was being sized up for a meal. What could I do? I didn’t rightly know but I paddled faster. He bumped the boat again.  The next time I saw his head, I tried to whack him across the head. But when I swung that paddle with all my might he opened his big ugly mouth.  With one mighty “crunch” he bit the whole end off my paddle.  I was gettin’ desperate. What was left of my paddle struck bottom as I paddled.  The big ole gator hit the canoe hard enough with his snout to dump me out of the boat.  I fell in to the waist-deep brackish water and drank my fill. Stumblin’ to my feet I staggered to a small island. And by small I mean little bitty.  ‘Bout the size of your average kitchen.  In the middle of this island was a scraggly old tree.  I climbed it. Like a squirrel chased by a hound, I went up that tree. After I had clum as fer as I could I stopped and looked down. Yessiree! I  had been treed by an alligator! Looking up at me with his big evil eyes and his mouth agape was that old gator, all twenty feet of him. Anybody that thinks a shark has a lot of teeth ain’t ever looked into the mouth of a twenty-foot gator.  He was close to my feet and he was snapping at me and I swear i could smell gator breath!

Remember, when I said there was something I didn’t like that term “up a creek”, now I remember the rest of that sayin’.  I was up that creek!

What was I gonna do?  One thing was for certain, I couldn’t get by that big gator at the bottom o the tree. I had to come up with a plan.  My mama had said she didn’t raise no fool.  But right then I was trying make sure mama wasn’t lyin’.  I put my thinkin’ cap on. And I thought.  In a few minutes I was thinkin’ maybe I had the wrong cap on.  The sun was slipping low in the west. By now the old gator had sort of curled his self around the tree. He appeared to be sleeping. By now I was also geting hungry.  I had missed lunch and it was getting close to supper time. I felt around in my pocket and pulled out a tuna fish sandwich. That sandwich had been in there all day, was all mashed up, and had started to smell like it was getting a little ripe. I pulled it out and got a whiff of it.  That’s when i got the big idea.  One time I had read somewhere that alligators liked food that was spoiled rather than fresh. “H--m-m-m” I said to myself.

I kind of snuck down the tree and was gingerly place that sandwich on the dozing gator’s tail. I stepped over the gator and was headed for the water when he awoke.

You won’t believe what happened next. Instead of trying to get me he took one whiff of that ole tuna sandwich on his tail and chomped right down on it. Yessir! that ole gator just et his self up!

I’ll bet I gotcha on that one! Ha, ha!

Your old buddy,

Bubba

White River Junction

One of the pleasures of travel by car is the discovery of little known places. On a recent trip, one designed to visit six of the north eastern states, we ventured into Vermont.  Seeing Vermont would allow us to complete our list of states visited.  Vermont would be number fifty! We found ourselves off the beaten path in White River Junction, Vermont.  I'm sure as we drove into the center of the historical district a smile spread over my face. The buildings are reminiscent of the early 1900's.  I half expected to hear a streetcar bell as we found a parking space for the Toyota right on Main Street across from the Amtrak station. A cold rain was beginning to fall as we exited the car. The weather forecast was calling for a winter storm. I remembered what a winter snowstorm was like from having worked in upstate New York. Hopefully it would not hit before we headed back south. We had been fortunate about the weather thus far.

"I'll have to take a closer look at that locomotive before we leave," I said as we walked toward the businesses on Main Street with the old steam locomotive behind us. The old engine was attached to tender and caboose under a shelter next to the Amtrak station.

"That looks like a good restaurant next to that hotel," Claudette said, "The BoHo Cafe it says"

"Works for me. I feel like a soup.  It's a soup of  day," I responded.

We crossed the traffic less street. There was a man walking away from us on the right,the only person on the deserted sidewalk.Without traffic it was  almost eerie under the cloudy sky pregnant with precipitation. The door creaked as we entered the early twentieth century building. To our left was a sofa inhabited by what appeared to be a college student with requisite laptop and an iPhone seemingly attached to her ear.  The lobby of the hotel next door could be seen through the eight foot wide opening in the wall.  The food preparation area was along the left wall and the rear of the restaurant.  The round tables were scattered about and there was railroad memorabilia was on the wall. There were about a dozen customers.  In the far right corner was a fireplace with a roaring fire. Two ladies with coffee cups were having a quiet conversation while the flames bathed their faces

with a warm glow. The menu was written with various colored chalk on a blackboard  near the counter where food was ordered and dispensed.  Sandwiches had names such as Evil Stepsister, Rapunzel and Big Bad Wolf. Our order was taken by a young woman of fresh scrubbed good looks and a pleasant demeanor. We chose the shepherd's pie. (It had a less adventurous name!) Claudette chose Diet Coke for a beverage but I chose water. She handed us our beverages and we soaked up the ambiance while waiting for our food. I was interested in the group of old men that were having an animated discussion. They had a number of books and periodicals spread out on their table amongst the plates and coffee cups.

Across the back of the dining area was a huge painting of people dancing probably twenty feet wide. In front of it were the urns of coffee and water from which to serve yourself. I needed more water. While refilling my water glass I chanced a conversation with the pretty fresh scrubbed employee. The other employee was rather rotund and older and perhaps the mother of the younger.

"Was the painting painted in the 1930's?" I asked. I knew that during the Great Depression the federal government had paid artist to paint murals and such in public buildings.

"No," she said with a smile, "I think it was painted by a local art teacher in the 1950's."

"What was this building used for?"

"Oh, it was a bakery next to the hotel," she said. "The hotel, the Coolidge Hotel, was built in 1879.  It had two hundred rooms and was named for President Coolidge's father."

"Wow!" I said. " Did the thirtieth president every stay there?"

"Yes he did," she said with a smile, "He was superstitious, they say. He would not stay in a room with a number."

"Oh, yeah,"

"He stayed in room 'A'," she said as she moved back to the food preparation area.

I picked up our food on the way back to our table. The aroma from the shepherd's pies filled my nostrils. Wow! I thought I might have to stop and have a bite before getting the food back to a waiting Claudette!

The pie was very good.  Although it was made with beef rather than lamb. I had to refill water glass and was overcome by curiosity. The discussion by the old men around the table  intrigued me. On my way back to my table I lingered by their table staring at the printed material on their table. After a few minutes I realized conversation had stopped and I felt eyes on me. I felt the need to speak and commented, " I wonder if you fellows could tell me something about the engine across the way at the Amtrak station?" I queried noting the books and photographs about railroads.

The man in the cardigan with the reading glasses that separated in the center spoke first. The others continued to peer at a map on the table. "This was a railroad town, the largest railroad junction north of Boston. Five railroads served this town. There was an eight track crossing here in 1863 with fifty passenger trains a day passing through. But the name White River Junction may come from the confluence of the White and Connecticut Rivers." He then looked at the map the others were studying and they began to talk in low tones.

I sensed it was time for me to move along.

"Thank-you, " I said and joined claudette back at our table. After paying our check we went across the way for a closer look at the train.

The cold rain was coming down in a light drizzle reminding me of Edinburgh.

We crossed the railroad tracks and walked to the Amtrak station.  Adjacent to the station is an old steam locomotive.  According to the signage it is was manufactured in Manchester, NH, in 1892.

 Engine number 494 is a 4-4-0* of the Boston and Maine Railroad. Attached to it is a coal tender and a caboose. I climbed aboard the engine with the intent of going inside the cab but it was not to be. Access was denied but I could see all the instruments and controls. I had been inside a modern diesel-

electric and noticed how the old engine had many more instruments and controls. I was surprised to find that the cab of the engine was made of wood like a traction engine, not iron like everything else. I dismounted and walked to the front of the engine and was surprised that the cow catcher, the plow like front of the engine, was made of wood also. Something tells me this was not OEM, Original Equipment Manufacture.

I had taken a number of pictures and Claudette says, "Let's  get a cup of coffee and get to the hotel before the snow comes!"

We walked back across to Maine Street and got a couple of steaming hot decaf mochas at a coffee shop on the corner which did not allow dogs. I know this because there was a perky little pooch of various and sundry ancestry on a leash tied to a lamp post. The coffee shop was a nice place crowded with people doing what people do in such places. Drinking coffee, eating veggie wraps, typing on their laptops and, of course, using their cells. It warm and cozy and the coffee was good plus free wifi.

As we left the little village of White River junction in the town of Hartford I thought of things we had not seen.  Looking at the tourist information brochure I noticed that we had not taken the time to visit the art galleries and a museum.

"Claudette," I said, "You know what we missed seeing in White River Junction?"

"What?" she asked with her eyes glued to the road.

"In the museum there they have Elvis' gallstones." I announced.

She failed to respond to my proclamation and White River Junction faded into the past.

*Under the Whyte notation for the classification of steam locomotives by wheel arrangement, 4-4-0 represents the arrangement of four leading wheels on two axles, usually in a leading bogie, four powered and coupled driving wheels on two axles, and no trailing wheels