Mass Transit

Hello World, Happy Spring! All of you Druids and Pharaohs out there (and you know who you are) will be glad to know that the vernal equinox arrived as expected on the 20th, although a stranger to our area could be forgiven for failing to grasp the significance of the day, since it was about 30 degrees and cloudy at the time, and hasn't gotten any better since. Speaking of things that are not getting better, one of my coworkers has been very sick all week, and despite being as good an Irish Catholic as they come, I observed that he had not remembered to wear red in honor of St. Joseph's Day on Tuesday. On the contrary, he replied in an aggrieved manner, his nose was certainly bright red, and that had to count for something. I'm sure St. Joseph would understand. Anyone spending time in the local area lately would notice that it's certainly been colder than usual, and not just in comparison to last year, which set all sorts of records for high temperatures all over the place, giving even global warming a bad name. So it would come as a surprise to most people that we would decide to head far north to the wilds of Massachusetts last weekend, where ski season is still in full swing, and they measure snowfall in feet, rather than inches. Alert readers may recall the Cousins Hootenanny (it was in my note from 9/22/06, if you want to go look it up, I'll wait -- dum dee dum dee dum dum ..... ) In any case, there had since been a plethora of plans launched for a subsequent get-together over the years, but they all seemed to run aground on the rocky shoals of schedule conflicts, medical emergencies, work demands, academic milestones, family obligations, foreign travel, or all of the above at once. A normal person could be forgiven for supposing that getting 2 small and proximate sets of relatives together, shouldn't be on the order of trying to get an audience with the Pope, but unfortunately, that person would be very much mistaken, at least in this case. Despite the most diligent efforts by a varied assortment of kith and kin, the day had never dawned that we could get everyone together at the same time and in the same place, for love or money, and no amount of pleading, cajoling, enticements, guilt, threats or brute force could turn the tide. If this was a well-orchestrated conspiracy on the part of nefarious legions to keep us apart, they were doing a heck of a job at it, I can tell you that. Finally I realized that if something didn't happen soon, we'd all be dead and buried before we ever saw each other again, and that was how I decided to just let them know I was coming, then just go ahead and go, and let the devil take the hindmost. Valiant attempts were made to drag my sister Diane along for the ride, but too many obstacles intervened, and she had to beg off at the last moment. I had been planning to drive, with my eagle-eyed sister as navigator, taking a slower, more scenic route, rather than barreling up the highway at full throttle. Without her as co-pilot, it was an admittedly unappealing prospect for me to go it alone, but fortunately for all concerned, Bill (in full super-hero regalia) stepped into the breach and volunteered to take over the helm and save the day. (Modesty prevents me from attaching a picture, so you will all just have to imagine him in his tights and cape.) The youngest of the cousins had actually proffered a vaguely broad and half-hearted invitation to visit in her Christmas card, so I leaped at it with both feet, and let her know that we would be there on Saturday. Instead of screaming in terror and running in the opposite direction, she insisted that they would be delighted to see us - which only goes to prove that good manners can always come in handy, especially if you can't think up a good excuse fast enough. The weather at home was changeable when we left, and we actually drove into better weather as we went farther and farther north. There wasn't as much snow on the ground as I expected, although it was cold enough for snow-making equipment where necessary, at least until more of the real stuff showed up. My mother's grandmother and multitudinous relatives all used to live on the side of a hill in the Berkshire region, where the hotels come thick and fast these days, to accommodate skiers in the winter and leaf peepers in the fall, not to mention, the Tanglewood performing arts center year-round. We settled on the nearby Comfort Inn, since we always enjoy our stays with them, but this one turned out to be a barracks-looking hostelry with no indoor pool, which belied its origins as part of a lesser-quality chain, and we were very disappointed. But we were only 10 minutes from my cousin, so we hurried over there and they greeted us with open arms, and plenty of hot soup and grilled cheese sandwiches to cheer the weary traveler. Then it was off to the family hillside for old times sake, where we found another one of the cousins, and got to peek at the old houses from childhood memory, some of them now home to younger generations, while others of them are now owned by perfect strangers. (They no doubt wondered why we were taking pictures of their houses, but fortunately, the FBI was too late to catch us in the act.) There is only one road that snakes up the hill, and we discovered that it was way too dangerous for driving, at least in the upper reaches where the snow and ice were deep and treacherous, so we hiked up to the top instead. It's long and steep for walking, and also gets noticeably cold and windy as you go up, but once you get there, by golly, the view is nothing short of spectacular, and you have a panoramic landscape with 5 states in your sights. We were glad to make the trip, and I have the pictures to prove it. Also making the trip, we found out later, bunches of very fresh, large and intimidating animal tracks on the way down, that had crossed ours on the road, in between the time that we went up and then came back down, which we felt was a little too close for comfort, thanks not. The locals will tell you that bears, wolves, coyotes and mountain lions are not uncommon in the area, and we apparently just missed what would have been an uncomfortable encounter with one of them along the way. Back at the house, it was lasagna for dinner, with a vast array of home-made desserts that really hit the spot after a long and busy day. (Although admittedly, it would have been a lot busier if we had to outrun a mountain lion down from the top of the hill, so we were reminded to be grateful for small favors, believe me.) Finally we returned to our barracks - I mean, hotel - and here's where a swim in the pool or a relaxing soak in the hot tub would have been a welcome treat, and we were sorry it was not to be. The mountain lion probably didn't think much of the situation either. In the morning, we availed ourselves of the hotel breakfast, and since we were the only guests there, we made the mistake of thinking that we would have the place to ourselves. Au contraire! (That's French for, "Get your mountain lion out of my barracks!") The staff was so busy cleaning, straightening up, refilling supplies and emptying trash, that it was almost impossible for us to get any food, much less enjoy it in peace and quiet if we did. I will say the hotel had some of the nicest and most solicitous employees we have ever come across in our travels, but the place was simply too dumpy to lure us back. Then it was off to the cousins for lunch, followed by a quick jaunt to the Ioka Valley Farm, with its renowned home-style restaurant (humorously dubbed "The Calf-A" from their previous dairy farming days) and burgeoning maple syrup business. Now, this is no hayseed operation with a spindly tree and a rusty bucket hanging on a spout - this well-oiled family enterprise maintains 9,000 taps in the hill behind them, comprising over 450 miles of tubing that feeds copious amounts of sap into their machinery, where it is filtered, heated, refined and purified into the finest maple syrup, as well as candy, snacks and flavored drinks. (It takes 40 gallons of sap to make 1 gallon of syrup, so you can imagine the scale of this process.) Please feel free to go right ahead and visit their web site at www.IokaValleyFarm.com and see for yourself. It was a fascinating and entertaining experience, and we were glad we had time to squeeze it in while we were there. All too soon, it was late enough that we had to bid our hosts a reluctant farewell, and hit the road for home. Of course, we couldn't just drive right past that Denny's in Newburgh without stopping for dinner, and this is one of the advantages of travel that never gets old. The rest of the trip home was blissfully uneventful, and even the cats had somehow managed to behave in our absence - or I guess I should say, at least did such a thorough job of covering up their misbehavior, that it wasn't immediately apparent when we walked in the door. Like missing the wild beasts on the hill, this is what we call being grateful for small favors. To paraphrase my note from 2006, "By all accounts, this mini cousins get-together was a rousing success, and might turn into a regular happening, or at least more regular than every seven years." Next time, however, the mountain lions are very much not invited, and I don't mind saying, I am unanimous in that. Elle