Michigan, NIagara Falls and Toronto; Odds and Ends

My time spent in the heartland was all too brief but no less enjoyable for it. The weather was less than cooperative, but that's okay because unlike most of the time I'm traveling, the weather kept me in the car and moving. Not my first choice of modality, but I did see more of the countryside because of it. All in all, a good time and a first glimpse (for me, anyway) of the midwest during the fall, the first time seeing fall colors in full swing anywhere, the first time seeing Niagara Falls and my first time in Canada. Score, score, score and score. I met some nice people, had some great food and saw a piece of the world I'd never seen before, so I have to consider this trip a big win.

If you ever have the chance to spend time in these places, I'm sure you'll enjoy it. Now, for a twist on how I usually end these things, here is a brief list of facts and trivia about the places I visited on this little jaunt across the midwest. Hope you find this as interesting as I did. Enjoy.

Michigan

Michigan is the only state totally comprised of two peninsulas.

"Michigan" is the French version of the Ojibwe word "mishigamaa", which means "large water" or "large lake".

When the French came to what is now Michigan in the 17th-Century, the Native Americans there were the Ojibwe. The French version of the word is "Chippewa".

Can the white man not pronounce ANYTHING the way it's supposed to be pronounced?

Michigan has 63 cider mills and over 1,000 apple farms.

Michigan provides all the apples for McDonald's Happy Meals.

The phrase, "How do you like THEM apples?' is heard often in Michigan.
(I made that one up).

Battle Creek, Michigan is the home of Kellogg Company, founded in 1906. Dr. John Harvey Kellogg, the director of the Battle Creek Sanitarium at the time, invented cold breakfast cereal as a healthy alternative to the meat based breakfast that Americans seem to love so much.

It wasn't until much later the food industry figured out how to make cereal just as unhealthy by infusing it with sugar and chemicals.

Battle Creek is also the founding location of Post Cereals (now Post Foods) and Ralston Foods.

Michigan residents devour almost twice as many chips per capita than the rest of the country.

Michigan is the 11th largest state by area and the 9th most populous state.

If you're in Michigan, you're never further than 6-miles from a natural water source.

Michigan has more freshwater shoreline than any political entity on the planet.

Lots of boats in Michigan. Big surprise, eh?

Niagara Falls

On July, 9th, 1960, a seven-year old boy named Roger Woodward, after an upriver boating accident, was swept over the falls wearing only a swimsuit and life-jacket and SURVIVED!! He was the first of only three people to go over the falls unintentionally and survive.

Roger Woodward was rescued by the crew of the "Maid of the Mist II" which plucked him from the churning waters at the bottom of the falls.

During peak flow approximately 6-million cubic feet of water go over the falls every minute, and the year-round average is around 4-million cubic feet per minute.

There are two cities named Niagara Falls. One in Canada and one in New York.

In 1901, Annie Taylor, a 63-year old schoolteacher from Michigan (nice tie-in, huh?) became the first person to go over the falls in a barrel and survive.

Would you want someone who would go over Niagara Falls in a barrel teaching your kids anything?

Niagara Falls, New York, was the first city in the US to have electric street lights. I know this because my late uncle, Mike Donnelly, grew up there and told me about it. Miss you, Mike.

Niagara Falls has eroded 7-miles in the last 12,000 years, changing from one big waterfall to the three smaller ones we have today.

Toronto

Toronto was established by the British in the late 18th-century and was originally named "The Town of York".

It wasn't until 1834 that the city name was changed to Toronto.

Toronto is one of the most diverse cities on the planet, with approximately 49% of its population having not been born in Canada.

During the War of 1812, the Town of York was sacked and plundered by American forces. We thoughtfully looted and burned much of the city during our five-day occupation, a favor that was returned when the British burned Washington to the ground later in the same war.

George "Boom Boom" Chuvalo, born in Toronto, is a former heavyweight contender who fought Floyd Patterson, Muhammad Ali (twice), George Foreman, Joe Frazier, Ernie Terrel and Jerry Quarry, and was NEVER KNOCKED OFF HIS FEET in 93 professional fights.

Toronto is the 5th most populous city in North America with 2.6-million inhabitants, and the Greater Toronto Area holds over 6-million people.

Toronto is freakin' gorgeous and it sits right on the shore of Lake Ontario.

The End of This Bit

Alright ladies and gents, that's all I've got for now. I sincerely appreciate all the people who've taken the time to read along and follow my travels. I'm toying with the idea of taking this blog in a little different direction at least part of the time, so stay tuned. If my idea comes to fruition it should be damned interesting (I hope).

Don't be afraid to click the "Join This Site" button on the blog homepage or leave a comment. And a special thanks to those who have taken the time to reach out and tell me they've been following along and enjoying my efforts. It's good to hear.

Until next time…

Michigan on the Road

Monday broke and, at last, no rain. Finally, a day suitable for rambling around this little corner of Michigan. I had been stuck either in the car or indoors for all the time I was here due to the weather. Time to get down to some serious cruising.

After dropping the wife off, I stopped at Zoe's House of Pancakes for a hearty breakfast of eggs, sausage, hash browns and what else? Pancakes of course. Drank a couple of cups o' joe, read the sports page and after settling up at the cash register, headed out the door. After filling up at the gas station down the street, I pointed the nose of the car west and just started following the road. No hurry, no precise route in mind, just a general aiming of my trajectory into the greater Ann Arbor area.

I promised myself before I left that I was not going to use the GPS for the entire day. I've found that using a GPS keeps me from connecting to the world I'm traveling through and anesthetizes my innate sense of direction. I find myself trying to remember the names of the streets I turned on instead of remembering where the streets are. It may seem like a small distinction, but for me personally, the ability to recognize where I am is much stronger than my ability to remember a series of random street names. So, after looking at a street map I headed out and, in my mind, let the navigational safety net drop. Do or die, baby.

It's really not as intrepid as it sounds, trust me. While it is kind of rural out there, and a lot of the roads transform from asphalt to dirt and back at what seems like completely random intervals, I knew as long as I stayed on the road I started on and kept going in one direction, it would end where I needed to turn to get me into Ann Arbor. My route of choice today was 6-mile road.

As I cruised west listening to the radio feed me a non-stop stream of classic rock, I took note of the neighborhoods I was passing through. They ran the gamut from large, obviously very expensive homes with well manicured lawns and landscaping complete with the occasional team of gardeners making it all look nice, to middle-middle class neighborhoods with pick-up trucks, station wagons and fishing boats on trailers in the driveways, to expansive rural homes with horse corrals, rusting tractors and rickety barns leaning against the horizon. And as most people passing through someone else's turf are wont to do, I imagined what it must be like to live in this place, with its harsh winters, wide open spaces, huge yards, great stands of giant trees brightly attired in their fall colors, the rivers, lakes and streams everywhere offering opportunities for all kinds of outdoor recreation and the effortless greenery everywhere. Taking all this in, a thought presented itself. Man, I give up a lot to live in the sunshine.

I could probably buy the most expensive house I saw here in Michigan for what my house in San Diego is worth. My house with the postage-stamp lot, with neighbors so close they can tell you what the wife and I argue about, where I can hear the neighbor's shower run, where water has gotten so dear no one can afford to water their lawn. Don't get me wrong, I like my house. And my neighbors, for that matter. And the 300 days a year of 70-degree sunshine are easy to take, as is the ten-minute drive to the Pacific Ocean. All good stuff, to be sure, and the only thing I have to give up to live near those things is economic freedom.

Now, let me qualify all this by saying I've never lived where it snows for three or four months out of the year. I could be totally kidding myself, a victim of "the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence" syndrome, I don't know. What I do know is I saw some very nice houses on some very large lots and a lot of wide, open spaces in which to amuse oneself at a fraction of what it costs to sit in bumper to bumper traffic twice a day and pay sky-high taxes here in lovely Southern California, in addition to the high property values. Just sayin'.

Let me show you some of the stuff that got me to thinking…

Maybury Park

Driving down 6-mile, a side road caught my eye. For no special reason I pulled a u-turn and went back to see what was down that road, and I stumbled across Maybury Park, complete with miles and miles of running, mountain biking and equestrian trails. The trees were blazing away in their fall colors.

Pedal in, ride your horse in or jog in. Take your pick.

Maybury Park

After driving down 6-mile for a while, I went right on Angle Road and headed up to Whitmore Lake. It is a smallish lake ringed by houses, each with its own dock out back. Nothing too ostentatious, just a bunch of middle class homes on the lake. Very picturesque.

The houses are tightly spaced around the lake. This was one of the few places I saw where there
was very little space between dwellings. Cool little village complete with its own little tavern. Judging by the number of ski-boats I saw, this place is probably hopping in the summertime.

Whitmore Lake

At the lake, it was a left turn and head south for Ann Arbor. There wasn't a whole lot going on down there, which kind of surprised me for a small town with a large university, but it was pretty dead. I stopped and had lunch at a place called Kerrytown Market. It's a good sized brick building that houses a couple dozen eclectic shops and eateries. Lunch was generous and spicy, just what I needed on a chilly fall day. There was a nice coffee shop in there but I had one stop I wanted to make yet and I knew if I sat down in that warm space filled with the aroma of fresh coffee I'd never get out.

Whitmore Lake

Next up, "The Big House".

Add caption

Michigan Stadium is the largest stadium in the United States. It was built in 1927 and back then it "only" seated 82,000 fans. It has since been enlarged, and the official capacity now is just over 109,000, but it has had as many as 115,000 fans in it at one time. I couldn't get inside, but how you gonna go to Ann Arbor and not at least stop by? You can't, so here it is.

Looking across the campus

My first day in Michigan was a rainy, cold mess of a day. I drove through Ann Arbor that day but never stopped anywhere because, quite frankly, I didn't want to get out of the car in the crappy weather. But there is no denying that it's a very pretty town. There are plenty of old buildings and long established businesses to pique a traveler's curiosity. On this day I didn't have time to get out and walk the downtown area because there was something I'd seen on my previous drive through and I wanted to be sure and get there this day with good light and time to wander.

Forest Hills Cemetery

Forest Hill Cemetery was founded in 1857 and didn't receive its first "resident" until 1859, when Dr. Benajah Ticknor became the first person to be buried there. There are a lot of old gravestones and supposedly the joint is haunted. I walked around for close to an hour and only saw one other person, but alas, no ghosts.

Forest Hills Cemetery

Forest Hills Cemetery

The cemetery was my last stop for the day. It was getting late and I had to pick the wife up at the end of the day. I had no idea what the traffic would be like, so being conditioned to SoCal rush hours I left myself about an hour more than I needed to go get her.

After we got back to the hotel from dinner, it was time to pack up and get ready for the next day. Travel days are never fun days, and after the landing I "enjoyed" coming in to Detroit, I have to admit I was a little anxious about the flight home. There was still a heavy layer of thick clouds here as far as the eye could see in all directions, so I knew it was going to be a little dicey on take-off, but I also knew San Diego was going to be sunny with temperatures in the mid-70's. And as soon as that thought crossed my mind, I looked at the grey skies outside our hotel and thought, "Oh yeah, THAT'S why I
live in San Diego".

I thoroughly enjoyed my time in Michigan and Canada and am looking forward to coming back when the weather's a little nicer and I have more time. Tomorrow I'll put a ribbon on this trip with my usual "Odds and Ends" posting.

Until then...

O Canada

The alarm went off at 5:00 sharp, just like I'd asked it to. Boy oh boy that alarm is annoying, and why can't I sleep like this when I DON'T have to get up? I rub my eyes, try to shake the fog out of my head, roll over and stare up at the ceiling for a bit. This bed is SO warm and comfortable, do I really have to get up right now? It would be so easy to just close my eyes and pretend I don't have to......

I start back awake and grab my phone. 5:41. Damn! I sit up and swing my feet out onto the floor. The plan for today is to drive straight from our hotel in Livonia (Detroit, basically) to the Canadian side of Niagara Falls, spend the day there and then head to Toronto. The Falls are about five hours away, Toronto a little over an hour from there. I get the wife awake and we get ourselves together and head out into the dark, wet pre-dawn Michigan morning to begin the journey. It's still completely dark outside and the frigid rain that has been drizzling down for the last two days is still making its presence known. We get in, head to the gas station, fill up, grab a coffee for me and a tea for her, a couple of waters for the road and we're off. We get through Detroit and to the border crossing in just under thirty minutes. The crossing itself takes no more than a minute or two. We are officially on the road, in Canada. Who'd a thunk it?

All my friends know how much I detest Daylight Saving Time because I whine like a little girl at, and in the general vicinity of, anyone foolish enough to stop moving near me at the two times a year when this little stroke of evil genius is enacted. Thanks to this mindless stratagem of misery and pain, I find myself driving across the prairie at the southern end of Ontario in the rain, in total darkness. We mark the time as we cross the border at 6:34 and head east. It's a straight shot across the southern end of Ontario to the little gap between Lake Erie and Lake Ontario, where thousands of years ago giant glaciers moving through the area massaged the landscape into what we now call Niagara Falls.

As I'm driving, it's still dark at 7:00. It's still dark at 7:30. At 8:00 it's still dark. At 8:30 the sky is starting to turn gray and I can actually relax a little as I drive through this landscape devoid of man-made light, and as if that didn't make things difficult enough, there are none of those little raised reflective devices marking the lanes. The lanes are merely painted on the asphalt, so the sheet of water on the road renders them invisible. The dark, the rain and the invisible lanes are making the first part of today's adventure a little more stressful than it needs to be, if you ask me. We press on in the dim, but growing, gray of dawn.

American Falls on the left, Bridal Veil Falls (small) on the right.

After five hours on the road and the obligatory stop at McDonald's for a quick Egg McMuffin, we pull into the parking lot at Niagara Falls. On your way through the park into the parking area you cruise past the viewing area and catch a glimpse of the American side of the falls. Wow! Much bigger than I was expecting. The falls average right around 170-feet tall, and about 4-million cubic feet of water go over the falls (American and Canadian combined) every MINUTE! It's damned impressive.

We park and get out, and not only is it still raining but the temperature is hovering just under 40-degrees fahrenheit. It seems that cold and wet are going to be the constants during my trip. The first stop is the visitor's center so we can grab a couple of ponchos to keep the rain that is falling and the mist that is rising from the bottom of the falls from soaking us completely. We get some general directions from the lady in the shop and head out the back door to see up close and personal what honeymooners and daredevils in barrels have been enjoying for the last hundred and fifty years or so.

Panorama of entire Niagara Falls. That is American Falls in the distance.

Niagara Falls is comprised of three separate waterfalls, from east to west they are American Falls, Bridal Veil Falls and Horseshoe Falls. When you walk out of the visitor's center on the Canadian side you are right next to Horseshoe Falls. When you stand there, six feet or so above the lip of the falls and see the mass of water surging over the edge and into thin air you can feel the power. It's a little disorienting to stand there and watch from that close. 

Horseshoe Falls from the edge

If the weather had been a little more favorable we would have stayed longer, but the viewing from inside the visitor's center isn't that great and the viewing from outside on this day was miserably uncomfortable. The crowds were small and no one was really hanging out for long. People would come out, stand at the wall, ooh and aah for a few minutes and then flee the scene. We walked from the Horseshoe Falls down to the American Falls, snapping pictures and enjoying the views and then, after spending about an hour outside (and getting soaked), we decide to head inside for lunch. There is a nice little restaurant inside with great views of the falls and decent, not too expensive food. I figured with the captive audience the prices were going to be high, but it was very reasonable and the food was good. Afterwards, we walked back out so I could snap a couple more pictures and headed for the car.

Horseshoe Falls

On our way out, we asked one of the gift shop folks what was the best route to take to get to Toronto. One thing you'll find if you're ever driving through Canada is that their signage is very different from ours and more than a little confusing. The lady told us we should drive through a little town called Niagara on the Lake on our way out. She said it was a little out of the way, but that it would take us through a couple of local parks and that it was very scenic. If we stayed on that road it would take us right out to the highway that goes to Toronto. We took her at her word and headed that way. If you ever find yourself on the way out of Niagara Falls on the Canadian side, this is the route you want to take whether you're going to Toronto after or not. The drive was absolutely stunning and you also got a good look at the way of life here. It was one of our favorite parts of the trip.

Even in the bad weather the turning leaves were beautiful

As you drive away from Niagara Falls on your way to the little town of Niagara by the Lake, you follow the Erie River and pass through the park that contains the falls called Niagara Parks. It is an impeccably maintained park with running and bike trails criss-crossing throughout and many nice views of the river below. It is worth the time to meander through at a leisurely pace and see what is there. If the weather had been nicer we agreed that we would have stopped and spent some time walking around and taking it in. Definitely worthwhile. After we drove through the park and the town, we headed out for Toronto. In just over a little over an hour and a half we were checked in to our hotel and preparing for a night out.

Erie River downstream from the falls

Floral Clock located in Niagara Parks

Toronto held a few surprises for us. This is one of the few trips I've ever taken with virtually no research done before departure. The opportunity to come to Michigan and Canada wasn't confirmed until about a week before I left, so I just jumped in and figured I'd let the chips fall where they fell. I always heard Toronto was cool, but that was all I knew. After spending about twenty-four hours there, all I can say is, I can't wait to go back.

That night we headed out for a late dinner about 8:30. By now it had stopped raining, but with clearing skies it got a little colder. After a quick stop for some gloves we got busy walking the streets. The plan was a total no-plan. We were just gonna walk until we saw something that struck our fancy or we got so hungry that we wouldn't be picky. It worked out fine.

Saturday night in Toronto, out and about

Toronto is Canada's largest city and the provincial capital of Ontario. More than 2.5-million people live here and it is amazingly diverse. For no reason I can explain rationally, I was totally taken by surprise at the number of obviously non-native Canadians there. The night life is lively and the downtown area is full of crowded bars and eating establishments. Lots of good times to be had here.

We were tired after being on the road since before dawn and spending the majority of the day outside in the near-freezing weather. After a long stroll, we decided we were in the mood for Italian and walked into one of the many malls here that holds dozens of bars and restaurants and not much else. I've never seen anything like it, but it sure was convenient. We had no idea what restaurants would be inside, but the first thing we saw was an Italian Trattoria, and after a quick perusal of the menu we decide it would do just fine.

The dinner was excellent as was the service. Our server Nick had spent eight years in San Diego working at Legoland as a performer, so we had an instant rapport. We had a very relaxed, leisurely dinner before heading back to the hotel. Without even realizing it, we had walked into a building that was so big that it emptied out on to a couple of different streets. Luckily, one of the exits led us out onto the sidewalk right outside our hotel. After a very short stroll back to our room, we indulged ourselves with a little room service dessert and called it a night.

More Saturday night in Toronto

The next morning we woke up to sunlight streaming into our room. I looked outside and saw crystal clear blue skies and a few puffy clouds. It looked glorious. We got ready and decided since it was such a nice day out we'd walk the few blocks to a breakfast spot Nick had recommended to us the night before. It was called Fran's. We asked the concierge if she knew where the place was and she said she did, gave us directions and sent us on our way. What she told us was different than what Nick had told us, but we figured it was so nice out we'd just figure it out as we walked.

After traveling about twenty feet outside the hotel we came to the sudden and shocking realization that it was ungodly cold out here. No, you don't understand, it was REALLY cold! Like, we used to ski Brianhead in Utah every year, and it was THAT kind of cold. Brianhead is ten-thousand feet above sea lever, just so you know. This morning in lake-side Toronto it was life threateningly cold. We got about half a block and decided to ask someone on the street if they knew where Fran's was. We got a third answer. Okay, keep walking before you die. Ask another person, get another answer. Now we've got three possible locations. And you have to understand, every person we asked was dead certain. They weren't waffling with their answers. It was like, "Oh yeah, you go three blocks down to Shuter Street, take a left and it's right there on the right. Can't miss it." Next guy points in the complete opposite direction and says, "Go up two blocks to Central and it'll be right across the street. I work right across the street from there." Okay, we decide to just get indoors as quickly as possible and hope we can get a breakfast out of the deal. Survival was starting to become a real concern. We were standing at the corner the concierge had told us to turn at. We turned, crossed the street and there was Fran's. We had been within 300-feet of the place the whole time we were taking our impromptu poll on where the man-on-the-street in downtown Toronto thought Fran's might be. By the time we got inside the shivering was just beginning. Just for the record, it was 28-degrees out. Look it up.

Upon hearing our story, the waitress and one of the other regulars laughed and said oh yeah, that happens all the time. Turns out they have multiple locations and people show up to meet their friends at the wrong one all the time.

"Hahahaha can I get a cup of hot coffee, stat please?" It wasn't that funny.

We ate our (very good) breakfast, went back to the hotel, checked out and started wending our way back to the greater Detroit area. A little over four hours later we were back in Livonia watching the Chargers choke a game away to the team from Washington. Some things never change.

I could finally take a picture of the trees with sunlight. So beautiful.

Detroit is out there somewhere.

Detroit. Hey, it's hard to take pictures out of a moving car!

Your truly. Thanks for visiting.

That was our weekend. I hope you liked catching up with us. We're having a blast and our weekend in Canada was fantastic. We talked all the way back about how we can't wait to get back when we have time to do it up and hang out. 

Thanks for following along, hope you had a good read. I've got one more day here in the great state of Michigan, and hopefully the weather will be good enough for me to get out and dig in a little bit. See you around. 

Until next time...

  

Michigan on the Run

After my inauspicious arrival in Michigan on Halloween Night the plan for the next three days was this: I was going to sleep in on Friday morning, what with my body thinking it was three hours earlier than the clock says, and then I was going to take the rest of the day and nose around the Michigan countryside east of Detroit and get my bearings while the wifey was at work. Then, bright and early Saturday morning we were going to head off to Toronto for the weekend with a side-trip to Niagara Falls on the way. And that is exactly what we did. The only problem is, the third principle in this little excursion has not been cooperating, and that would be the weather.

The storm that scared ten year's life out of me while landing the other night has chosen to keep me company here, with its cold temperatures and a near-constant drizzling rain. So Friday, while the wife was doing her thing, I was cruising aimlessly around the roughly triangular area between Livonia, Ypsilant and Ann Arbor trying to get some sense of the land and the people. But because of the low hanging, dark clouds and the constantly re-forming sheet of water on the windshield obscuring my view I couldn't see very far and, to make my feeling of isolation from the place complete, I couldn't get out on the ground and connect. It's hard to get people to sit still for very long, much less make their acquaintance, when it's 45-degrees out and raining. People don't have much time for a stranger when they're wet and cold and hurrying to get warm and dry. Go figure.

Not surprisingly, I don't have any amusing anecdotes to share about my first day here. I didn't even get any decent pictures between the raindrops on the camera lens and water down my collar keeping me uncomfortable. It was not a productive day in the conventional sense of the word. No pictures, no real story to share, just letting my mind wander as I watched the Michigan scenery flow past the sides of the car. Thinking, watching, listening...

The classic rock is playing low on the radio, the windshield wipers are whooshing faintly as they fight their constant back and forth battle with the raindrops, and slowly a thought creeps up out of my subconscious, "You know what? Michigan is gorgeous, man." This day I'm only about twenty minutes east of Detroit and there are trees, rivers and lakes everywhere you look, and to top it off the fall colors are in full flush right now. I'm an old SoCal boy, so the only seasonal color changes I'm accustomed to are seeing the landscape go from green to brown and back to green, with the occasional widespread flame and smoke. This is the first time in my life I've been in four-seasons country while the leaves were turning, and it is just as stunning as everyone says it is. Even in the flat gray light of a rainy day I can see that. Nice place, wish I could get out and rub elbows with a few of the locals. I keep driving.

I've been in the rental car now for about and hour and a half, and it's getting that stuffy, almost-too-warm feel of a car that's had the windows up and the heater on for too long. I turn the fan down a notch and crack the window a hair to let some fresh air in. I'm going about seventy on this wet highway and people are FLYING by me. I guess us SoCal folks really DON'T know how to drive in the rain. I haven't seen one car on the shoulder pointing the wrong way yet, and in San Diego on a rainy day you see one or two every ten minutes. No big pile ups, no slow traffic, everybody just bombing along in the rain like it's no big deal. Crazy Michiganders...

I head back in the general direction of our hotel and realize I haven't been paying very close attention to where I've been going all afternoon. I'm pretty sure I'm in the right town, I'm pretty sure...shit. I make a U-turn and head back the other way. Shit again. Everything's starting to look the same and I realize all my aimless wandering and pondering has led to my getting good and lost. I pull into a parking lot to get my bearings and look up and down the long, straight road I'm sitting next to that looks just like every other long, straight road around here. Funny thing about getting lost is, you could be around the corner from where you want to get, and you're just as lost as if you were on the dark side of the moon. Lost is lost man, and I am lost. I pull out my phone to use the GPS app I loathe so much and realize I should have charged my phone up this morning while I was sleeping in. I'm down to 6% charge left, the sliver of red on my little battery icon barely visible. Shit and shit again. Now the dilemma is, do I go for the GPS and hope I find my hotel before my phone taps out or do I call my wife and admit I'm lost and ask for help? I laugh at myself thinking about how spoiled I've gotten. If these are my two worst options I must be doing pretty good. Aaaahhh, damn, I'm calling the old lady. "Hey babe, what town is our hotel in again? I'm lost." She doesn't laugh, that's good. "Where are you?", she asks. I'm pretty sure she's not trying to be ironic. "What town?" I ask a little more pointedly. "Livonia" comes the reply. I tell her my phone's getting ready to die and hang up. I don't bother telling her I'm already in Livonia. I heave a big sigh and get on with the business of being lost. At least I have gas in the tank, but to add another layer of tension and urgency to the mission of getting un-lost comes the realization that it is almost dark. I take a left, go two blocks, cross my fingers as I take another left and lo and behold, my lizard brain must have been on duty because all of a sudden I realize my desired destination is straight ahead. I don't even know how I did that, but I am no longer lost. I pull into the hotel parking lot and lie to myself about what a great job I did finding my way back. I head up to the room and wait for the better half to get back so we can go out to dinner. Life is good.

I've only been in the midwest one other time in my life. I spent a weekend in Green Bay watching the Packers beat the Chargers while Bret Favre tied some record of Dan Marino's. The weather on that trip was fantastic, with highs in the mid-70's and clear skies. The main takeaway from my time in Green Bay was that midwesterners are a different breed from what I'm accustomed to dealing with every day in my hometown. Friendly, polite and accommodating to a fault. I don't know that I've ever been around so many gracious, hospitable people ever. I haven't had too many chances to check the premise here in Michigan yet, but I have a feeling it's going to be more of the same. I'll keep you posted.

Sorry for the lack of photos. The weather just wasn't having it.

Tomorrow I'll tell you all about our drive across the prairies of Ontario, a day at Niagara Falls and an evening spent in Toronto.

Until next time...

Michigan on the Fly

Somewhere over Arizona

Let me just ask right up front that you forgive the F-bombs in this post. I usually try to avoid them, but this is a story that requires them. Enjoy.

I love to fly. Absolutely love it. When I was a kid, my next door neighbor the fighter pilot used to take me flying occasionally in one of those little Cessna four-seaters. From the first time I went up, I was hooked. I never got a pilot's license as I promised myself I would, but I've always loved to fly. Big planes, little planes and in between planes, I just like being up there. So, that brings me to this morning....

I left San Diego on Halloween morning, and it was one of the most spectacular mornings I can ever remember. Seriously, not exaggerating. It was beautiful. Taking off from Lindbergh Field it was crystal clear skies. The Pacific was sparkling under the approving gaze of the morning sun, and the view south past the Coronado Islands was serene. We hooked back east and flew over the waking desert to our first stop in Las Vegas. A perfect landing, another beautiful takeoff and eastward we went. Somewhere about the Missouri/Illinois border it started clouding up and the pilot came on the intercom and let us know that we should stay in our seats, seat belts buckled, due to anticipated turbulence ahead. No problem as far as I'm concerned, turbulence doesn't bother me at all. My fighter pilot buddy taught me that air is like water; sometimes the water is smooth and sometimes it's choppy, but either way the boat doesn't sink and the airplane doesn't fall out of the sky. Just sometimes it's a little bumpier than others. So, we keep cruising on our way and yeah, it's getting bumpy. Not horrible, but pretty damn bumpy. Then, we cross into Michigan and the real fun starts.

As the sun is setting behind us, we start our descent into Detroit (did I mention I was going to Detroit?) and the clouds are waiting for us. If you've flown much you know that you can be flying through the smoothest air you want, but as soon as  you enter clouds it gets rough. Well, we entered the clouds and it got REAL rough. Now, believe it or not, I'm still not nervous. Okay, maybe a little, but not much. I don't mind the bouncing around, but flying blind in the dark does tend to make me sweat a little. And the clouds were thick brother, as in zero visibility. Zee-row. 

It's been a good fifteen minutes or so of flying in the clouds, and I'm sitting where I can see the trailing edge of the wing clearly. The flaps come down, not quite all the way, but enough to scrub a little speed. You can feel the plane slow as the engines whine a little louder. Usually in another minute or two they drop the rest of the way and then we're thirty seconds or so from touchdown, right...? Right?? Wrong.

Hell waits below

We fly in this attitude for a good ten minutes. I am not making this up. I had turned my phone on in anticipation of landing (don't tell the FAA) so I could text my wife who was waiting to pick me up, so I had a clock to watch. I'm still reasonably calm at this point. The flaps drop all the way down. Whew!! We gotta be close now. Any second we're gonna pop out of these clouds with a few thousand feet of cushion and set this baby down. The only thing is, we don't pop out of the clouds. We keep descending, the plane is bucking and bouncing like a drunk rodeo bull, and we ARE slowing down, but I am seeing nothing out the window. That's not entirely true. I am seeing swirling clouds and rain. LOTS of swirling clouds and rain. It feels like the plane is down to walking speed, we've been in final descent, according to the captain, for a good twenty minutes, you can't see shit out the window and I am starting to quietly freak a little. You could feel everyone in the plane breathing in and out together, just waiting for Norman Bates to yank that shower curtain back. It was deathly quiet except for the whine of the engines, the buffeting of the wind and that one asswipe that's on every plane you've ever been on that won't shut the fuck up about his dog Scooter or whatever. Need I say it was a bit tense?

Then, right on cue, just as it seems everyone on the plane is going to start speaking in tongues simultaneously, we break out under the clouds, and GOOD GOD WE'RE 200 FEET OFF THE GROUND AND THERE AIN'T NO AIRPORT DOWN THERE! Everyone gasped in unison. You could hear the flight crew's assholes snap shut all the way in the back of the plane. At the last possible second, we flew over a highway at about Miata rooftop level and hit the runway. I was envisioning a deranged umpire emphatically crossing and uncrossing his straightened arms while yelling "SAFE!" as we bounced a couple of times and started rolling down the runway through the pouring rain. Fuck me runnin'... 

A screenshot of the text I sent my
wife upon landing. 

Now, the airline's version of this little adventure might be different than mine, I don't know. But I do know this. I have flown literally hundreds of times in my life and I have experienced some horrendous turbulence and lived through some very rough landings. Flying between Oahu and Kauai once I even saw a flight attendant bounce off the cabin ceiling, but I have never been on a plane where the entire cabin burst into spontaneous applause upon landing. You'd have thought Metallica just walked offstage or something. I was waiting for the lighters to go up. Everyone cheered, I quit holding my breath, Scooter's owner never shut up and all's well that ends well. Even the flight attendants were talking in hushed tones about the no visibility landing. There was a lot of grim faced nodding while holding eye contact going on in there. It was different, that's for sure. 

And that's how I spent my Halloween night. It's supposed to be scary, right?

Anyway, I'm in Ann Arbor/Livonia/Van Buren Township (just outside Detroit) tonight and tomorrow, then the weekend is going to entail a border crossing and a quick visit to an iconic natural wonder. I don't want to say anything because it's not 100% in the bag yet, but it should be a good weekend. It's late, I haven't proof read this, so if there are a million typos/grammatical errors, I'll get 'em in the morning. Hope you enjoyed it. 

'Til next time...

  

Ireland: Odds and Ends

I have started and stopped this post three or four times now. How do you sum up the kind of trip I just had, speak to the quality of the people I met and experiences I enjoyed, convey the warmth and generosity of an island full of people and not sound like some gushy schoolgirl? I've tried and I can't. So here it is. I'm going to wrap up the Ireland posts by simply saying; go. Buy a ticket, make some plans (but not too many) and just go. There are wonderful things to see, wonderful people to meet and wonderful times to be had. Go. Please.

That'd be "pulp" to you and me

Signage is a never ending source of amusement when you're traveling abroad. Even when you're in an English speaking country, there will be some dialectic differences that have you scratching your head from time to time. "Orange Juice with Bits" is pretty self-explanatory and "bits" sounds so much more appetizing than "pulp".

"To Let" means "For Rent". Every time I saw this sign I thought it said "toilet".

Driving on the "wrong" side of the road presents obvious challenges to us across-the-ponders, but crossing the street on foot has its own set of ingrained habits with which to kill you. Evidently Dubliners got tired of picking foreigners up off the street and installed the "Walking for Dummies" verbiage in the crosswalks.

I joke, but it is HARD to overcome the decades old habit of looking one way as you step off the curb. My friend The Professor told me to revert to what I was taught as a small child. "Look both ways." Word.

I committed one tactical error while in Dublin. I only had one day to see the city and I wandered into this museum called "Dublinia" that told the story of the city from it's Viking roots up until the Anglo-Normans took over, a span of roughly three hundred years. I ended up spending three hours there and missed seeing the Book of Kells at Trinity College. Next time, next time.

This display explained how trade with the farmers was important to the Vikings because, evidently, they REALLY needed toilet paper!

And here's the hapless Viking taking a dump. This tableau was complete with a looped soundtrack of the poor schmuck grunting and farting out a turd, the appropriately timed plopping noise of said turd, and the Viking saying, "What are you looking at? Go get me some more moss!"

I am not making this up...







Did I mention that during my two nights and one day in Dublin it was FREEZING? Almost literally freezing. It was in the mid-30's, gray, blustery and drizzly all day while I was there. Now, I know I'm from Southern California, and we're renowned for being wimps when it comes to the cold, and I know that you CAN get used to cold temperatures, but some of the people in Dublin were a little too cavalier about the cold, if you ask me.

Other than one Halloween a LONG time ago, I've never worn a dress, but I do remember that a dress is kind of...breezy, shall we say? I saw tons of short skirts and short-shorts around Dublin and Galway and I don't see how they're not freezing, but again, what do I know?

I do like this picture of a street scene in Dublin. The light is interesting and the colors are nice, but that's not why I inserted this picture here. I would like to draw your attention to the two guys on the far left in this picture, walking down the street in short sleeved tee shirts. Ridiculous.

Either one of these two alone would be easy to ignore and would have hardly been picture worthy, but together? They were like a walking optical illusion.

Christchurch Cathedral, too much history to try and fit in here. It was originally founded c. 1030 and has stood here in one form or another ever since. Unfortunately they were filming a movie inside and it was closed.

Christchurch from the other side. I just liked this picture.

Fully electrified and amplified Hare Krishnas, chanting and strolling the day away. I haven't seen these guys around SoCal for a long time, but there they were annoying everyone in Dublin just like they do the world around. Some things are the same no matter where you go.

The beef in Ireland tastes much better (in my opinion) than the beef here in the states. In any case, it tastes markedly different. I was told the main reason for this is that all the beef in Ireland is grass fed and not all hormoned-up like the cattle here. And one upshot of that little fact is that the butter is not that pasty white color like butter here. The butter is bright yellow due to a cow's inability to break down the beta carotene in the grass, thus imparting the yellow color. The butter tastes better, too.

Yours truly...

Sitting in a local with a few of my newest friends and enjoying a hot whiskey.

The River Liffey

The River Liffey runs east/west right through the middle of Dublin and into the Irish Sea. Dublin was originally founded in the 9th century as a Viking fort and remained under Viking influence until late in the 12th century. Dublin is the capital of Ireland and also the city with the largest population at just over 500,000 residents.

Well, my friends, that pretty much brings me to the end of my trip. Hopefully I was able to impart at least a fraction of my enthusiasm for seeing and learning about new places. As I mentioned in an earlier post, it would be a home run for me if I could pique even one person's interest enough upon reading my blog that it would inspire them to travel. Not necessarily to anywhere I've been or written about (although that would be cool) but just anywhere. Traveling will give you a sense of place in the world. It will help you to realize that, even with all the differences we enjoy, the similarities are numerous. It will teach you. Period. It's way too easy to sit in your living room and tell yourself that you don't need to learn about other places. One of my favorite quotes of all time was provided by Malcolm S. Forbes, and it goes like this: "The purpose of education is to replace an empty mind with an open one." Amen.

Cead Slan

Birding in Ireland

Among other things, I'm a birdwatcher. I'm also an astronomer, a carpenter, a dog trainer, a writer, a bowler, a snow skier and an inveterate consumer of the written word. I'm probably forgetting a thing or two, but of all the things I am, I've been a birdwatcher the longest.

One of the beauties of watching birds is that you can do it anywhere. I managed to infect my youngest son with the birdwatching bug when he was quite young, and he telephoned me once to tell me he was standing on campus watching a flock of Cedar Waxwings feeding in a nearby tree. While we were talking, he said he found it amazing that so many people were walking past, oblivious to the spectacle so easily observed by the casual passerby. I see birds all the time when I'm out walking my dog or driving down the street, and it never ceases to amaze me, either, when others don't notice.

I worked for many years as a carpenter in and around San Diego County (which hosts more bird species than any other county in the country, I might add), and I always used to keep a pair of binoculars and a field guide in my truck in case I saw something new and/or interesting. One of my fellow dirtbag carpenters caught me looking through my binoculars once and, when he found out what I was doing, began making fun of me to anyone who would listen, laughing at me that I would take the time to notice something like a particular bird. Now, this was back in the day when you could pound a couple of stakes in the ground after work, make a beer run and play a few games of horseshoes before you headed home for the night. One evening, while drinking beer and tossing some 'shoes, I noticed a kingbird perched on a grade-stake. He was hunting. A kingbird is about the same size as a mockingbird and eats insects that it catches on the wing. It will go through some incredibly aerobatic gyrations in pursuit of its next morsel, and when it is caught, will fly back to his perch and wait for the next bug to come along and repeat the process. In short, they put on quite a show if you pay attention. So, while I was watching this Kingbird, I told the guy who days earlier had been so amused by my predilection for birdwatching, "Hey, see that bird sitting on that grade-stake?" He looked over and said he did. I said, "Just watch him for a second, he'll catch a bug." Right on cue, the hunter launched himself off his perch and, after a dizzying array of maneuvers, caught his prey and calmly flew back to his vantage point. The knucklehead said, "WHOA! That was cool!" I told him to keep watching, and he did, for the next few catches. I never said one more word, and within minutes someone asked him what he was looking at. He showed them, and pretty soon there were eight or ten guys standing around watching this kingbird hunt and ooohing and aaahing at his antics. After that, the knucklehead would occasionally stop by and ask me about a bird he'd seen, to see if I could tell him what it was. I suggested he get a pair of binoculars and a field guide to carry in his truck...

Birds are beautiful, amusing, plentiful and easy to notice. So, whenever you're out and about, take a minute to check out the birds around you. You just might see something that'll make you go "ooooh".

I devoted no time whatsoever specifically to birding while in Ireland. While I am always on the lookout for something new, in Ireland I never set out just to see birds, and still I managed to see tons of new stuff. The next time I'm there I will dedicate some serious time to traveling around just to see birds, but here are some pictures and brief descriptions of what I did manage to see and photograph on this trip.

Woodpigeon

I already posted one picture of a Woodpigeon, but I thought I'd throw a couple more up for good measure. HUGE pigeons, very strong fliers and very pretty. Also, very common.

Here's another. I'm pretty sure this was a nesting pair in the neighborhood.















As I mentioned in an earlier post, Kevin and I spent a very enjoyable afternoon having lunch with one of his colleagues and his wife, who lived a good ways outside the city. Their names are Noel and Angela, and aside from being spectacular hosts, they also had some bird feeders set up in their backyard that were attracting quite the diverse bunch of birds.

Goldfinch

This little fella is what they call a Goldfinch in the UK. These things NEVER sit still and, embarrassingly enough, this is the best picture I could get. They are gorgeous and very common.

Godfinch

Here is the only picture you will find in any of my work that I did not take myself. I glommed this off the internet, so my apologies to whoever's work I'm stealing here. I figured I owed you one good look at these guys.

These three pictures are of what they call a Robin Redbreast in the UK. Noel was sure to point out that THIS is the original Robin Redbreast, and that we Americans took the name. And I'm sure he's right. These birds are much prettier than the ones in the U. S.

Chaffinch

Chaffinch

A very colorful little guy, the Chaffinch, and a bit of a backyard feeder bully.

Bue Tit

Blue Tit

Noel was a great asset as I had no idea what I was seeing until he told me. I didn't purchase a field guide until the day after this excursion, so having a human "guide" was handy, indeed,

Coal Tit

As we were sitting there, eating lunch, watching the birds and visiting, Noel was naming all the birds at the feeders. It turns out he was quite knowledgable and a good guy to be hanging out with while watching birds. In addition to the Blue Tit and the Coal Tit, there was also one little guy that showed up called a "Great Tit" that I was unable to get a picture of. Noel kept asking me, "Did you see all the tits? Did you get a picture of the Great Tit? There's a Great Tit at the feeder now!", and on and on. You will find this hard to believe if you know me, but I did NOT make even one off-color joke, but man it was tough, what with Noel lobbing softball after softball after softball. One of the best straight men ever, and out of respect for everyone there, I let 'em all hit the ground. I must be growing up. 

Grey Heron

I saw this guy while walking along the River Corrib one morning. They're supposed to be different than Great Blue Herons, but I don't see any huge differences. Maybe a little smaller and stouter, but a damned big bird and very cool to see on a chilly morning at the river's edge. 

Mute Swan - male

This is a male Mute Swan. The telltale is the nob on his beak.

Mute Swan - nesting male

Mute Swan - feeding

Swans are very impressive birds to see in the wild. Not only are they huge, but they are fearless of humans and will let you get quite close. As I was walking along the river one day, I kept hearing this odd noise, almost like quietly honking geese out on the river, but the noise was moving very fast and when I first heard it I couldn't see out to the water. Later, when I got to an open stretch of river, I heard the noise and looked over, and it was a pair of swans flying by. Their wings make a very loud noise when they fly that is quite pleasant.

Rook

Rook

These are the two best pictures I could get. These guys would not cooperate. Birds are genius about knowing when they're being observed and these rooks kept turning away. It's kind of hard to see, but they have a big white patch on their face right at the base of their bill. These are really, rough, scraggly looking birds with big, thick beaks. Way uglier than your basic crow. 

Magpie

Just a boring, old magpie. Just like the ones you see here, but I figured I'd throw him in here. Just for the record, this picture was taken on a different day many miles from where I got the pictures of the rooks. Just so you know. 

Blackbird

Blackbird

This blackbird was one of the coolest birds I saw. He was very animated, very unaffected by my observing him and would stop occasionally to eyeball me while he was going about his business. A very entertaining little guy. 

Pied Wagtail

The Pied Wagtail was one of the toughest photos for me to get. I saw five or six of them, but they virtually never sat still for more than about .17 milliseconds, and I was beginning to think I'd not be able to get a decent picture of one. This guy shocked me by landing on this concrete and hopping down to the river's edge and standing there long enough for me to get a few snapshots. I was very far off, so this picture is more testament to the quality of my camera than my stalking ability. Very cool bird, and not as small as he looks. He's probably a little bigger than a mockingbird. 

Lesser Redpoll

Last, but not least, the Lesser Redpoll. This was another one that would not sit still long enough to get a decent shot, so I apologize for the focus issues.

Lesser Redpoll - on left

The bird on the right in this picture is a Goldfinch.

This is just some of what I was able to see while out and about in Ireland. Without devoting any time at all to birding exclusively, I was able to get these pictures, and missed at least twenty or thirty others due to not having my camera at the ready or the birds being unwilling to sit still long enough for me to get a presentable photograph. I promise you that anywhere you go there will be birds worth seeing. Whether you're in your own city, out in the countryside somewhere or traveling abroad, you will see beautiful, interesting birds if you take the time to notice. So get a pair of binoculars and a decent field guide for the area in which you live (don't forget to keep 'em in the car) and start collecting your own list of birds you've seen. It will be something you can do for the rest of your life and who knows, you just might enjoy it!

Thanks for following along, I hope you are enjoying my efforts and maybe even learning a little something. It would be a home run for me if I was able to inspire anyone to travel somewhere in particular or, as in this post, take up birding. Please leave any comments you may have, and if you become a member, you will receive an e-mail telling you every time I put up a new post. I promise never to email you otherwise.

Until next time...

Ado