At the CIA…

I brake for chefs.

…the Culinary Institute of America, that is. Another reason I wanted to visit Hyde Park. Thanks to a friend (Hi, Toni!), who clued me in to the need to make reservations, we were able to enjoy two meals during our three-night stay in Hyde Park. The first night we went to their Italian restaurant, Catarina di Medici; the second night, their farm-to-table restaurant American Bounty. The food in all their restaurants is prepared and served by students. The service left a bit to be desired, but the food, by and large, was delicious. We were especially fortunate to share our meal at American Bounty with our daughter-in-law, who happened to be in New York visiting her father.

The campus itself is beautiful. The main building on campus looks like a brick cathedral, and the grounds are lush and green with an amazing view of the Hudson River.

Hike to Val-Kill and Top Cottages

the trail to Val-Kill and Top Cottages

There’s a very cool hike through the woods from the Roosevelt family home of Springwood to Val-Kill Cottage, where Eleanor Roosevelt chose to live, and then farther up the hill to Top Cottage, where Franklin intended to live after leaving the presidency. Both cottages were on the vast Roosevelt estate in Hyde Park, both small by Springwood standards (especially Top Cottage), both entirely independent of the other, and both the source of great comfort and isolation to their residents.

Let’s back up a bit. Why did Eleanor choose to live at Val-Kill, when Franklin was living at Springwood? We’ve all heard the rumors of their supposed infidelities. I won’t comment on them because I know nothing about them, but according to our park-ranger guide, Eleanor never felt at home at Springwood while Franklin’s mother, Sara, was alive. (She passed away in 1941.) Springwood was always her mother-in-law’s home. She and two friends had originally developed the Val-Kill property as an industrial site where locals could learn handicraft skills. It became Eleanor’s getaway when she was in Hyde Park with her husband, but became her full-time residence after his death in 1945 when she had the factory converted into her home. She lived there until her death in 1962.

Cindy, waiting for her hot dog at Top Cottage

Top Cottage, or Hill-Top Cottage to be precise, was designed by Franklin, an amateur architect, and built during his second term in office. It was his retreat from the world, but they–both he and Eleanor–used it for family picnics and entertaining guests as well. In 1939 King George VI and Queen Elizabeth of Britain attended the famous “hot-dog summit” at the cottage. (The King’s Speech, anyone?) It was Roosevelt’s desire that the king and queen see how the American commoner lived–and what he or she ate. Note: The queen ate her hot dog with a fork and knife. The king enjoyed eating his by hand!

furry friend in the forest

So, back to the hike. The woods were beautiful. We had them almost to ourselves on a Wednesday morning. The hike to Val-Kill was mostly level–piece of cake! The hike to Top Cottage from Val-Kill was a pretty rugged climb up muddy paths cut through the leaves by heavy rains a few days before.

Here are some of the guys we met along the way.

Mr. and Mrs. Mallard

 

A very long rat snake. We never saw his head, but his body went on forever as he slithered into this rotted log.

Under construction

We are home and planning our next adventure because the compass never stops spinning. Check out my Future Adventures tab to see some of the possibilities! I’d love your feedback and ideas.

Into the Wild

king of the tundra

 

two young moose dining on willow

 

caribou, aka reindeer

I stand corrected regarding an earlier statement I made that reindeer are not indigenous to Alaska, but had been brought here from Siberia by fur traders in the 19th century. According to one of our naturalists, reindeer and caribou are one and the same animal, and caribou are definitely indigenous to Alaska. In Europe and Asia, the animal is called a reindeer. In North America it is called a caribou. Alaskans use the term “reindeer” to refer to a “domesticated” caribou, a caribou that is kept in a herd for the purpose of meat harvesting, and the domesticated variety probably did originate in Siberia.

It was James Michener’s book, Alaska, that confused me. He described the fur traders purchasing reindeer in Siberia to bring back for the Inuits in northern Alaska. These natives of the Arctic coast couldn’t always get out to hunt in winter. If their Fall hunt wasn’t sufficient to sustain them over winter, they faced starvation. Domesticated caribou would provide a reliable supply of meat during the winter. Perhaps the Alaskan wild caribou could not or would not be herded, but the domesticated variety from Siberia, bred in a herd, could be.

Dall sheep high in the foothills

The Dall sheep’s primary defense from predators is to hang out at high altitudes on inclines too steep for their predators to climb. Their teensy feet help them balance on impossibly narrow ledges.

Dall rams hanging out

 

male grizzly

Denali grizzlies are significantly smaller than the coastal variety. They don’t have access to salmon and other fish and are essentially herbivores. At this time of year they are eating every berry they can find, some 20,000 calories a day. Mama Bear may have to get up in the middle of her winter’s nap to forage for food, if she’s got new, or even yearling, cubs to nurse.

In the video below, Mama Bear’s pace never changes as her young cubs (born in the Spring) frolic around her. They stopped to sniff and eat a few berries, wrestled with each other a bit, then ran to catch up, never letting her out of their sight.

 

beavers stockpiling willow in their winter cache

These four beavers were busy storing willows in their cache for consumption during the long winter. They construct underwater accesses to their lodge (the mound of sticks in the foreground) and cache because the surface of the pond will be frozen over.

trumpeter swans on Wonder Lake

 

sandhill cranes heading south

We heard them calling before we could see them, two large flocks of sandhill cranes preparing to head south. They will follow the Alaska Range southwest until they come to a low pass where they will wait for air currents strong enough to lift them up and over the mountains. These two flocks merged and separated, merged and separated, and finally merged as one before heading toward the mountains.

We saw hundreds of sandhill cranes preparing to migrate. Our guides say that the crane’s migration is their cue to make their own preparations to head south. Safe travels everyone! We’ll see you cranes this winter in Florida!

North Face Lodge

at the park entrance

Last February I was researching a place to stay inside Denali National Park. I had read that the best place to see wildlife is as deep into the interior as visitors can go. There is only one road into the park, and it’s 92 miles long. The first 15 miles is open to car traffic, but the next 77 is open only to the buses that ferry almost 600,000 visitors a year in and out. With stops for wildlife viewing and other necessities, these buses don’t average much more than 10 mph on a bumpy, gravel, single-track road. I started thinking: 92 miles at 10 mph—the drive could take nine hours in one direction! I planned on visiting the park every day for four days, and I had no intention of living on a bus. We were going to have to stay in the park.

a warm welcome at North Face Lodge

There are only three places to stay inside the park, and one involves cabins without plumbing. Scratch that—an outhouse down a dark path on a cold, windy night was not in my plans either. We chose the North Face Lodge, the camp’s sister lodge just down the hill. I read something about guided hikes on the website. Not sure where, when, or how that would work, but if it didn’t suit our needs, we could always do our own thing.

a fireside chat before breakfast

We discovered that the lodge had our entire four-day adventure planned down to the personalized napkin pins. We were met at the park entrance, assigned to a bus, relieved of our luggage, and welcomed aboard—along with 30-some other people. The 17 rooms at the lodge would be occupied for four days by the same group of people. Everyone arrives on the same day and leaves on the same day. We were greeted at the lodge by two energetic, young hosts who, over the course of our four-day visit, told us where we needed to be next, and what we had the option of doing there. They were supported by a whole passel of staff who rotated through various tasks: naturalists, guides, bus and van drivers, cooks, servers, gardeners, dishwashers, housekeepers, and more. The lichen expert may be your bus driver/hiking guide one day, and the next morning she’s serving you stuffed French toast. They were an incredible team, so enthusiastic about spending their summer in the great outdoors.

personalized napkin pins defined our social groupings

We were delighted to be part of this little family. We ate our meals together, and at each meal we were seated with someone we hadn’t had a chance to talk to yet. Each day after breakfast we chose our own level of adventure: strenuous, moderate, or foray. Or we could choose to stay at the lodge and hike their nature trails, bike, canoe, or just sit by the fire and read. Selecting our own tempo provided a different way of mixing us up. After finishing a moderate hike on the tundra the first day, we were a bit envious of the forayers who did less walking and more riding around in vans to carefully selected locations where large mammals were known to hang out. So the second day we chose to foray, and we had an opportunity not only to see wildlife, but also to get to know a different group of people. Normally I like to call the shots about what we do and when we do it, but this was so well orchestrated and so congenial that I felt a bit sentimental on the day we departed. What a marvelous group of people—both guests and staff—and what an enjoyable way to share a common passion! I’m going to miss them. Sometimes it’s fortuitous not to know what you’re getting into.

Back in Anchorage

riding the Coastal Trail on a bicycle built for two

We’re back in Anchorage after our three-week explore of the Kenai Peninsula. It was tempting to take a day off our first, full day here–we had a busy week in Girdwood–but I checked the weather forecast, and our first day was going to be the best weather-day of the week. So we hit the trail, the Tony Knowles Coastal Trail, a brilliant 11-mile trail along the Knik Arm of the Cook Inlet. We chose to bike it, rather than hoof it, and opted for a tandem bike. It worked very well. I rode in the back, which meant I didn’t have to steer or shift gears while I navigated us through all the twists, turns, tunnels and train tracks on the trail. But I still provided power, especially on the hills. (Those spinning classes really paid off!) We covered a total of 20 miles–the trail and then some–and an elevation gain of 420 feet. Not bad for a day’s ride!

the Alaska Range across the Knik Arm

 

“I’ll be right with you. Just have to find my glasses.”

 

He looks like he’s made out of beads.

 

Finally! A moose in the wild, in Kincaid Park.

 

Lunch at the Lakefront Hotel, adjacent to the world’s busiest seaplane base, Lake Hood.

 

busy airport whether taking off from land or sea

 

Bikes and cars share the road with aircraft.

Cape Heceta Light

Cape Heceta Light

Cape Heceta Light

It was a long day with an itinerary covering 190 miles of spectacular Oregon coastline. We managed to check out of our apartment in Gold Beach by 9:00, which for us is amazing. But then we got hung up by the stunning wildlife at Port Orford, the friendly volunteers at Cape Blanco, the intriguing walking paths at Coquille Point, the delicious Sea Star Bistro and the worthwhile Washed Ashore gallery in Old Town Bandon, and then the unbelievable dunes between Reedsport and Florence. Then the rain set in, and it was growing dark. We don’t like checking in to a new rental in the rain and the dark. All that unseen mud! We’d just have to chuck the rest of the itinerary and make a run for Newport.

I always plan more stops than we have time for, and my motto is “No regrets.” We do what we can. This is supposed to be slow travel, relaxed travel. Ix-nay on the ess-stray. As we headed to Newport, I was trying not to regret missing Cape Heceta lighthouse, reportedly one of the prettiest on the Oregon coast.

I looked up to see a sign for the Sea Lion Cave. As much as I like sea lions, I didn’t regret missing what sounded like a cheesy tourist spectacle—an elevator ride down the face of a cliff to gaze into a cavern full of Steller sea lions. I wonder what they make of that. Oh, look! Here comes another cage of tourists!

We drove on. And there it was—the coziest little lighthouse you could ever imagine nestled into the side of a rocky point, its beacon sweeping through the misty rain and out to sea. Cape Heceta! I didn’t realize it’s visible from the Oregon Coast Highway. We pulled off the road onto a conveniently situated overlook.

We rarely travel at dusk, so I’m not used to actually being able to see a lighthouse beacon. They tend to disappear in the light of day. But the rain and the hour were the ideal setting and that rocky backdrop the ideal canvas. Thomas Kinkade would have been euphoric. I stood at the overlook wall taking it all in. And then I heard the barking. Dogs? No, it was coming from the cove below us. Sea lions!

Sea lions!

Sea lions!

There was still enough light to peer into the waves 300 feet below us, and there they were. Dozens of sea lions diving into the surf in search of dinner. Dawn and dusk are optimal times to see animals in the wild foraging for food. Our timing couldn’t have been better. We stayed until the light grew too dim to see, then got back in the car and drove into the darkness. We arrived at our rental and unloaded our stuff in the pitch black (the porch light wasn’t working), but we didn’t care. Sometimes you see the most extraordinary things when you step outside your comfort zone.

Oh, look! Tourists!

Oh, look! Tourists!

Jacksonville, Oregon

Here we are in cute little J’ville. The town is so perfect we felt like we were on a movie set. Lots of cute shops, restaurants, galleries, wine-tasting venues, and even an impressive Halloween-themed show by the local art league. It was fun wandering around pretending like we lived here.

 

Bend

You’ve got to love a town named Bend. There’s just something about the name that sounds so, well, flexible. Everyone we’ve talked to who has been here says they love it. We had high expectations, and were not disappointed. Here’s a slideshow that attempts to show why.