Sandy Hook revisited

Much like Morristown National Historical Park, I have been visiting the Sandy Hook area of Gateway National Recreation Area since I was a kid, but never went there specifically for its role in the National Park System. My family used to go down there to swim all the time when my brother and I were kids - there were no gaudy boardwalks and piers to distract us from the ocean (which was probably very convenient, since I was - and perhaps still am - one of those kids who insisted their parents buy them something at every possible opportunity), and it's essentially the northernmost and thus closest expanse of beach along the Jersey shore.

Patrick and I went down on Monday, June 14 - it's generally a good idea to do all of one's shore-visiting on a weekday, because weekends get pretty ridiculous (Pat said that, when he came into New Jersey on June 12, it was the first time he'd ever heard a radio traffic report on a weekend - it was most likely for shore traffic).

Gateway National Recreation Area has sections both in New Jersey and New York; the Sandy Hook unit is the only one in New Jersey, and in New York it has areas on the southern shore of Staten Island and in Jamaica Bay in Brooklyn and Queens. I've never been to either of the New York areas, mostly because they're a pain in the ass to get to. Sorry, New York, but that's just the way it is.

The Value of History - Morristown, NJ

The second day of Patrick's visit - the first full day he spent in New Jersey - we decided to waste no time in starting our exploration of New Jersey's participation in the National Parks System. New Jersey only has four sites that are part of the NPS - five if you count the Statue of Liberty (which is considered in New York) - and two of them straddle state lines, so we had some looking around to do.

First on the lineup was Morristown National Historical Park, which I've visited a hundred times before but have never really appreciated as a part of the NPS. My town, Chatham, is right next to Morristown, so as kids we always went on field trips to the area - especially to Jockey Hollow, which is the area where Washington's troops spent their most horrid winter during the American Revolution. We visited the park on Sunday, June 13, which was a slightly cool and overcast day in the morning, but turned into a day of torrential downpour as time went on. But that's later.

Book excerpt: The Last Three Miles

In my last entry, I talked a bit about the roads in Northern New Jersey, in particular the Pulaski Skyway. It's not an easy road to drive—however, since I grew up driving these roads, I don't see them as such a big deal. While I had my learner's permit, even, I often had to navigate 13-lane toll plazas on the Turnpike in order to get to the mall. Ain't no thang. As a result, driving anywhere else in the country is downright simple. LA? You don't scare me none. Boston is downright user-friendly. Let's go tour around Oklahoma City, it's all good. See what I mean? Daaaamn right.


In that spirit, I'd like to present you with an excerpt from Steven Hart's book, The Last Three Miles: Politics, Murder, and the Construction of America's First Superhighway, a book about the Pulaski Skyway. I started reading it upon coming home, and admittedly I stalled (no pun intended) on page 100 of the 192-page book; it was a little dry for my taste and I couldn't really get into it. I'd be willing to give it another go, however, after rediscovering this passage, which is a truly evocative description of driving from the Holland Tunnel and across the Skyway. (The author is a born-and-bred New Jerseyan.)


Below is the excerpt, in bold.

Initiation By Tire

We're here, we're here. I didn't just forget about this blog, indeed no. We have simply been running around like complete and total maniacs, I haven't had time to update.

Patrick arrived here in New Jersey on June 12 (two Saturdays ago), and literally within a few hours of his arrival we started running around and seeing the sights all around New Jersey and New York - aaand we still haven't stopped (though, seeing as Pat pulled a muscle in his leg in Pennsylvania the other day, we are taking it easy at the moment). Patrick, who spent most of his life south of the Mason-Dixon, vowed to himself some time ago that there are two places on the planet he would never visit: New Jersey and New York City. Bwa ha ha ha ha ha!

But, I think I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. It's time to back up a little.

The reason I created this blog was so that people who, like I used to do, are wondering what it's like to hook up with a relative stranger and run away with said relative stranger, can know precisely what it is that happens amidst the flotsam and jetsam left over once these decisions are made. I think an important part of the story, then, is my relationship with Patrick - the ins and outs and terrifying moments and marvelous moments and the general struggle that you face when you're still coming out of one life and trying to force your way into another (in other words - hitting the Rebound Road).

Tentative Route, Tentatively

This is what I'm thinking right now. Right this second. This may change. This is not final. Have I mentioned this is tentative and subject to change? 'Cause it is. Tentative and subject to change. (Click that image at right to see a larger version; it is, however, a cell phone picture, so it's not good even when it's enlarged.)

This entry got EXTREMELY long, so I jumped it. Hope ya don't mind.

bring me that horizon

Last anyone knew, my road trip was canceled. Finito. Done. Off. Patrick went back to Tennessee and called everything off and I came home to convalesce and I didn't know what was coming next in my life.

But then everything changed.

And everything changed again.

And before it had a chance to change the second time, it changed a third time.

And then things stayed the same for a second, then changed back again to before the second change but after the first change. So they were still gonna change but a bunch of other changes were annulled.

And here I am now - 10:42 pm Eastern time on Tuesday, June 8, and right this second I will say this:

The trip is back on.

Now, I noted the precise date and time because who knows what will happen at 10:50 pm or even 11:37 pm and don't even ask about 8:02 am. But right now, all systems are go.

Below the jump, find out WTF happened.

Pictures 16: Greene County Miners' Memorial - Pennsylvania

This actually happened before Pittsburgh, but, as is my fashion, I have forgotten to post it earlier. Alas. It's okay, though, because this will probably only be interesting to other weirdos like me who find coal mining fascinating. This is the Greene County Coal Miners Memorial in Kirby, Pennsylvania.

Click any image to see it larger in Photobucket.



See 4 more images below the jump.

Pictures 15: Pittsburgh familiarity and fraternization

Seeing my brother Dan in Pittsburgh was a real treat. We are very, very different people, but when it comes down to it we find the same things funny and regularly text each other seeming non-sequiturs simply because we know the other would appreciate it.

So, hanging out with him, his roommate Matt and his girlfriend Mandy at his place in Lawrenceville was nice. We spent a lot of time just vegging out at his apartment, so that made for a lot of images of the four of us, as well as some cool shots from the roof outside his kitchen window.

If you don't know me, nor do you stalk me online (here or via Facebook), you may not find all of these images too fascinating, but here they are nonetheless.

I am, after all, still enamored of my new-to-me camera, so I really like the way a lot of these images came out.

Click any image to see a larger version in Photobucket.


This is Dan on the first morning I was in town. We were tired and I was showing him how my camera worked. He took a picture of me, too, but it is extremely unflattering and there is no way it is going online.


Looking out his living room window - all those trees got clobbered by the snow this winter.

23 more below the jump...

Pittsburgh, and Pictures 14

It's been nearly a week since I came home from Pittsburgh, and I've yet to write anything about it. I suppose I'll keep it short, then - besides, I didn't do much besides hang out with my brother and sleep on his couch and do nothing - so there aren't a ton of stories to tell.

And, come to think of it, I don't feel like telling stories at all, so I will just show Pittsburgh to you.


A view of the city from Grandview Park in the Mount Washington neighborhood

I think a lot of people have a very mistaken and outdated idea of Pittsburgh. It was established as a steel city in the Allegheny Mountains, a particularly beautiful stretch of the Appalachian Mountains that runs through Pennsylvania and West Virginia. For a long time it existed in a decidedly stereotypical Appalachian realm of being relatively poor, dirty, and decidedly Slavic.

Over the years, what with the decline of the American steel industry, Pittsburgh has seen a waning population and waxing culture. While the town does have two notable colleges - Carnegie Mellon and the University of Pittsburgh (the latter of which being my brother's alma mater) - students tend to come to Pittsburgh, learn valuable things, then leave Pittsburgh.

For those who stay in town, however, there is an entire city full of blossoming music, theater, art and social circles, all coupled with an incredibly low cost of living and what I think is one of the most picturesque cityscapes in the country.

More images and musings below the jump. Remember to click any image to see it larger on Photobucket.

Pictures 13: Tennessee abandoned house

Okay, let's throw this in reverse a little bit; this actually happened before West Virginia did. When I was still in Knoxville, Patrick showed me this abandoned building by a train track, almost totally hidden by ivy.

Click any image to see the larger version on Photobucket.


From the outside


Aaaand from the inside

5 more images after the jump

Pictures 12: Fayetteville, West Virginia

On my drive from Knoxville to Pittsburgh, I took US-19 through Fayetteville, West Virginia. And here are some pics to prove it. Also included here are some images of the New River Gorge Bridge.

Click on any picture to see the larger version on Photobucket.


Downtown Fayetteville


I liked this theater. Clearly.

11 images below the jump.

older than the trees, younger than the mountains

So now that I have significantly bored you all with my a-little-too-enthusiastic babblings about US Highways and Interstates, I'll tell you about what it's like to drive them.

Last any of us cared, I was on US-19 in West Virginia. I stopped occasionally along the road to stretch my legs, but none was as enjoyable as the town of Fayetteville. In 2006, the town was named one of the Coolest Small Towns in America by Budget Travel. (Then again, one of BT's coolest "small" towns of 2010 had 110,000 people, so we kinda wonder how they define "small." Fayetteville has fewer than 3,000 people, so it is indeed small.)

Edit: See photos related to this part of this entry here (Pictures 12: Fayetteville, West Virginia).

I took a detour into Fayetteville and found a teeny little main road strip with a theater, many shops, restaurants, antique stores, historic old facades and a stately courthouse (Fayetteville is the Fayette County seat). I wandered around and took some pictures, and chatted with a few fellow travelers who were lounging in the shade outside the Fayette Theater. I drove up into the hills a bit and came across the Wild, Wonderful 24-Hour Adventure Race, where mountain bikers were emerging out of the woods to the cheers and whoops of a group of folks holding stopwatches. I wandered around the parking lot of the trailhead and it was as if I wasn't there; they were all so intent on the race that nothing else mattered. Adrenaline blinders.

US Highways versus Interstates

After spending a few days (Tuesday evening through Saturday morning) in Tennessee with Patrick (during which we went to a Neil Young concert, organized a storage area, camped, ate Subway sandwiches in a hotel room and observed a fantastic rain storm, among other things), I hit the road again - this time toward Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, where my brother has been living for the last seven-ish years.

From Knoxville to Pittsburgh is a relatively easy drive, straight up north through West Virginia. After leaving Knoxville you head East a little bit on I-81, then get on I-77. You could take I-77 a little West to Charleston, West Virginia, and get on I-79 and head back East, or you can go from I-77 to US-19 to I-79 and save yourself 2 sides of a triangle. I also had a feeling that US-19 was going to be prettier than the other options, so I decided to go for it.

Now it's time for a little educational blahditty-blah from me. I didn't know the difference until this weekend between US highways and Interstate highways. Now, don't get me wrong - I'm pretty good with maps. When I was 11, my family took a road trip from New Jersey to California and back, and in the process I learned how to read a road atlas pretty well. From there, I've driven from New Mexico to New Jersey (or vice versa) 13 times, and I've made the New Mexico-to-California trip six times, so I've done my fair share of back-and-forths.

So, that being said, I had no idea what the difference was between US-22 and I-22. Naturally, my dad, who knows everything, knew.