A Day Among The Thousand Islands

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

Obviously, we didn’t rise with the sun, though maybe we did, but we were stuck in our hotel room with me hammering at the keys of my notebook to finish yesterday’s blog. I tried my best but came up short and still had more writing to do by the end of the day. If you are getting confused about which day I’m writing about and on what day, I’m starting to have the same problem because, once again, we are hard at work shoving a few days of experience into 16 hours of activity. As soon as we were out of our second uncomfortable tiny cottage and on our way, we needed to head directly to Wellesley Island, where we met Jordan Beach of Thousand Islands Private Boat Tours. Earlier this year, when planning this vacation, I’d come across his information while looking for something more immersive than a 30-minute tour with 75 other people looking for some quick and fast entertainment. While our three-hour tour wasn’t cheap, I’ll tell you early in this post: it was nothing short of perfect.

Rock Island Lighthouse on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

You might even recognize the subject matter of this photo because just yesterday, we flew by the Rock Island Lighthouse like a speeding bullet on some very choppy waters, but today, we are on a slow and smooth cruise that is allowing us to soak up the St. Lawrence Seaway 1000 Islands experience in the lap of luxury.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

We’d have never imagined visiting this shipwreck and the lighthouse twice in our lifetimes, but here we are, two days in a row, getting out on the water as if we belong here. With the calm winds, quiet craft, and better lighting conditions, it is as though we are seeing much of it for the very first time.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

From there, the trip up and down the river took on a very different experience as we started exploring parts of the U.S. and Canadian sides of the river we hadn’t taken in yesterday. This bridge connects Wellesley Island with the U.S. mainland. [It is a toll bridge, privately owned – Caroline]

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

An image such as this may not convey a lot of information immediately, but for me, looking into the mostly calm waters moving towards a glassiness reflecting sky and clouds, I find serenity and calm that sadly is fleeting as the boat keeps moving and the surface of the river is always changing.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

There are extraordinarily ornate homes along the mainland shore and on many of the 1,864 islands that often reflect an age gone by when nobody but the wealthiest were out here building, including several luxury hotels on the local islands (one was seven stories tall!), but those all burned down.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This home sits on the east side of the island also shown in the previous photo. An arched bridge connects a smaller secondary island to the bigger one. Our captain told us that this location is often used for weddings.

Bolt Island on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This towering structure on the right was designed to be the playhouse of the former owner’s children, no joke. George Boldt, a wealthy hotelier, also designed a castle as a dedication for his beloved wife Louisa; it sits behind the trees. He spared no cost, even altering the island’s coastline to be heart-shaped because he wanted his wife to know how much he loved her. Tragically, the family never moved into the castle on Heart Island because Louisa died in 1904, just before it was completed. George immediately abandoned the project, so Bolt Castle sat empty and decaying for 70 years before the property was rescued and renovations began. Maybe on a return visit someday, we’ll take a tour of Heart Island, Boldt Castle, and its boat house, which sits on a nearby island and is accessed by a shuttle boat. This island is also a popular spot for weddings.

Bolt Island on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This is an extension of Heart Island that was purpose-built to contain the power station for the castle, allowing the structure to isolate the noise and hopefully let the prevailing winds blow the exhaust away from the home.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

This was as close as we could approach the bronze statue of Tecumseh on Honey Bee Island. The channel we are traveling between the Canadian and American borders is very shallow. Getting any closer risked us running aground.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

That’s Canada on the right and America on the left. I believe you could play frisbee between the two countries. This channel is known as the International Rift.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

When you’re a poor island owner, your kids only get a tree house, not a castle playhouse like your well-to-do neighbors.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

The water is that clear.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

Originally, we were supposed to go swimming today in one of the nearby coves, but the air temperature between yesterday and this morning dropped 10 degrees, and it was too chilly for us to brave the waters.

Swimming squirrel in the St. Lawrence Seaway in Alexander Bay, New York

On the other hand, here’s this heroic squirrel out for a swim. All three of us were incredulous that this squirrel was treading water. Originally, it was heading directly for us until we started talking and gawking, at which point it turned tail and headed back to the island it lept off from as it might have been considering becoming an aquatic animal.

Captain Jordan Beach of 1000 Island Private Boat Tours in Wellesley Island, New York

This is Jordan Beach and his boat, which he shared with us today, helping create an unforgettable experience.

Wellesley Island, New York

Here we are on the way back to the bridge from Wellesley Island to the mainland. This is one of the many beautiful mansions in 1000 Island Park that harken to a bygone Gilded Age.

Crossover Island Lighthouse in Hammond, New York

Not much later, we are on our way to Rouses Point, New York, on Lake Champlain near Vermont. It was only shortly after noon when we drove away from the Alexandria Bay area, leaving us plenty of time to do some sightseeing. This is the Crossover Island Lighthouse in Hammond at Chippewa Bay, which we could only see between private homes and signs that warn people not to trespass.

Cole Shoal Range Front Lighthouse in Brockville, Ontario, Canada

The next lighthouse in the river was the Cole Shoal Range Front Lighthouse in Brockville, Ontario, Canada.

Waddington, New York

Somewhere along the seaway, we saw an odd structure in the river. We spotted a dirt road shortly after that that looked like it might take us out to it, and while it did, we still couldn’t decipher what it was. Signs warning of danger and video surveillance convinced us to keep our distance, but still, we were curious. After leaving the area, we learned it was part of the Iroquois Dam.

Eisenhower Lock in Massena, New York

This is the western end of the Eisenhower Lock on the St. Lawrence Seaway. We learned that back in the day, pre-9/11 to be precise, visitors were allowed down at ground level to watch the big ships come into the lock. Today, the only viewing is done from a third-floor balcony of the new visitors center. Strangely, this visitors center doesn’t have a gift shop, though they have a great logo and would probably sell a ton of stickers with that logo on it

St. Regis River in Akwesasne, New York

Shortly after passing the St. Regis River in Akwesasne, New York, on the Mohawk Reservation, we witnessed the highest density of marijuana dispensaries we’d ever seen. Likely due to the tax-exempt status, many compete for business, but how a business model advertising $50-ounces of weed is supposed to work is beyond my imagination, especially when you consider the obvious amount of big money that has been spent to build beautiful shops that sell the dank buds. How many shops might you be wondering? We believe we counted roughly 30, maybe even 40.

Piglets for sale in Fort Covington, New York

We might have just passed right through Fort Covington, New York, without a second glance until this homemade sign advertising piglets for sale caught our eye. I believe it was their son Amos who greeted us; he was crossing the street when we pulled up. That boy might have been the most wholesome and joyous kid we’ve met in a while. His mother and father are Pat and April of Pat and April’s Pork.

Chateaugay, New York

We pass through many scuffed and battered towns which we wish could be salvaged. While some of these classic older buildings are not burned down yet and are at the cusp of liveability, they are too often turned into apartments for the poor. Small, barely functional spaces where society can warehouse the less productive. We’d love to rent one of these buildings or at least a floor if conveniences were available in town, but when the most ubiquitous offerings are fentanyl, meth, and weed, these towns are not conducive to living in. I’ve driven through hundreds of these towns and loved many for what they once represented. Today, they are a blight that begs the question, why don’t towns in such a state of advanced decay exist in northern Europe?

Dick's Country Store in Churubusco, New York

Sometimes, you think you’ve seen it all, and then somebody goes and outdoes everyone else. That’s what Dick did right here in Churubusco, New York. Dick is the owner of the Dick’s Country Store & Music Oasis, home to Groceries, Gasoline, Guns, and Guitars. Aside from the missing beer and BBQ, this is probably the most American roadside rural store I’ve ever seen. On second thought, he’d also have to offer taxidermy to round it out to perfection.

Caroline Wise bringing death in Mooers, New York

Death is a master from Mooers, New York, and her eyes are blue. She strikes you with her scythe, and her aim is true.

Lighthouses and Waterways in New York

Lake Ontario in Rochester, New York

There is often a particular dilemma when traveling, and that would be finding the time to take proper notes, followed by having enough time in the evening or the next morning to get some writing in so I don’t fall behind in capturing the feeling of the trip we’re on. That’s what’s at risk of happening right as I attempt to draft this blog the following morning because, in a mere 45 minutes, Caroline and I need to leave for our next adventure, but this doesn’t have anything to do with this photo that was taken on Lake Ontario in Rochester, New York. It was our first stop after leaving Spencerport, where we endured a miserable night of sleep on a narrow mattress, hard as a board, that had us crowding each other. We’ll chalk this up to our age-old problem of difficulty sleeping on our first night out. Waking, we were surprised by the weather as the forecast predicted something quite different than what we were seeing.

Eastman Lake on the Great Lakes Seaway Trail in Rochester, New York

We’ve joined the Great Lakes Seaway Trail in Rochester, New York; this is Eastman Lake.

Great Lakes Seaway Trail in Rochester, New York

Shady lanes with mottled lights are places I’ve dreamt of living near. Instead, we get the cinder block-lined grid of tan franchised conformity that is the dullness capital known as Phoenix. But it is precisely that kind of dry starkness that has every other place anywhere we go appear to be the greatest location we’ve visited yet. And then there is the winter. This luxurious view does not fool me because, in about 90 days, this street will be lined with ice, the trees will be barren, and if it’s not too overcast, there will be a few minutes of shadows for some part of the less than nine hours of winter daylight the region gets. Trade-offs and compromises are just a part of life, aren’t they?

Apples in Williamson, New York

By now, I hope I don’t need to share more photos of corn; that’s been played out. Apple orchards are a nice change of pace. We’ve also seen green beans, squash or pumpkin patches, and grapes along the way. Trying to be polite, standing on this farmer’s orchard at the side of the road, unfenced, we didn’t pick a single apple and only left with a few photos.

Vegetable stand in Williamson, New York

Just across from the orchard was this veggie stand, not selling apples, where we picked up a pint of tomatoes for only $3.00, paid for on the honor system.

Cornwall Preserve in Williamson, New York

We’d have ventured further into the Cornwall Preserve in Williamson, New York, had a sign at the trailhead not warned us of ticks. We have tick and mosquito repellent, but it’s still packed away in our large bag, where it’s doing nothing to deal with those pests.

Sodus Point Lighthouse in Sodus Point, New York

Our first lighthouse of the day was seen here in Sodus Point. If visitation is possible, it doesn’t matter, as we are here early in the morning.

On the Great Lakes Seaway Trail near Henderson, New York

Across the Great Lakes Seaway Trail we are making our way to the St. Lawrence Seaway, where we have a date at the Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York.

Cows on the Great Lakes Seaway Trail near Henderson, New York

There’s always time for friendly cows. Heck, we’d stop for friendly chickens, pigs, sheep, alpacas, horses, donkeys, and every other barnyard animal that wants to come to the fenceline for some head rubs.

Harbor's End Marina in Henderson, New York

Passing through Henderson, New York, on our way to the next lighthouse, the lily pads drew our attention to the Harbor’s End Marina to better admire them longer than we’d have seen them from our passing car.

Fall colors in Henderson, New York

Farther north, fall colors are starting to appear a little more frequently. If we are even more fortunate than we are already, the entire region may be experiencing a full riot of color in a couple of weeks.

Stoney Point Lighthouse in Henderson, New York

The Stoney Point Lighthouse is now a private residence with an obviously angry owner, who may regret buying a lighthouse as a home because the signs on the chain across the driveway demonstrate a hostility that lets people know violence is but a step away.

Farm near Limerick, New York

There we were, casually driving backroads on our way to the Tippets Point Lighthouse in Cape Vincent, New York. When recalculating our travel time, we realized we’d be late to Clayton if we continued on our path. So, in Limerick, we cut the trail short and beelined for the Antique Boat Museum.

Captain Gary on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Clayton, New York

We made it with plenty of time to spare. That’s Captain Gary at the helm of the Miss 1000 Island III, a modern replica of a vintage Hacker Craft. The speedboat we are on is known as a Runabout made of mahogany and was designed by the legendary George Hacker. We are on the St. Lawrence Seaway for an hour’s ride on the choppy river.

Rock Island Lighthouse in Clayton, New York

This was as close as we’d get to the Rock Island Lighthouse today.

Caroline Wise on the St. Lawrence Seaway in Clayton, New York

You may not notice it on Caroline’s left shoulder, but some water splashed into the boat. That’s nothing compared to the soaking the two people in the back got.

On the St. Lawrence Seaway in Clayton, New York

There’s a ton of islands out here. We were told the number, but that detail was just as quickly lost. I’m sure it was more than a thousand, which only makes sense considering the region is called Thousand Islands.

Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York

This is the Miss 1000 Island III; we were out on the water with her this afternoon.

Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York

I had to be judicious with the number of photos I’m sharing from inside the Antique Boat Museum, as with the 25 images included in today’s post, I would only prolong the amount of writing I’d need to do, which is already getting tough to keep up with. The image above was from the hall with vintage sailing skiffs, many from the Gilded Age.

Antique Boat Museum in Clayton, New York

Unlike this speedboat built to go fast, I was created to go slow. This separate hall was dedicated to powerboat racing through the ages.

Cape Vincent, New York

Twisting road along Lake Ontario, I should have something witty to say here, but I’m coming up short in the metaphors and words of wisdom department where I go to fetch things I’m trying to share here. I suppose one thing I should add is that should you be looking for a vacation destination, renting a house along this lakeshore in Cape Vincent, you wouldn’t go wrong.

Caroline Wise standing in Lake Ontario in Cape Vincent, New York

That’s Caroline standing in Lake Ontario near the mouth of the St. Lawrence Seaway.

Tippets Point Lighthouse in Cape Vincent, New York

Tippets Point Lighthouse in Cape Vincent, New York. At the small gift shop, we met a retired Air Force life enthusiast who was happy to tell us about the lighthouse, maintaining and restoring it, the Eisenhower and Snell Locks up in the Massena area, and even practiced some of the German he learned while stationed in Grafenwohr, Germany. The top of the lighthouse is not visitable, as major work inside has to be done, but the original Fresnel lens is still up there, so maybe one day, the work will be done to give visitors a chance to ascend the tower again.

Cabin at Rock Ledge Motel in Alexandria Bay, New York

Our accommodations tonight would turn out to be the tiny cabin of another miserable night of sleep, but instead of a narrow board, we had a slightly wider floppy sponge, apparently built by a company that guarantees back pain should you be able to endure seven hours trapped in its grip.

Sunset over the St Lawrence Seaway in Alexandria Bay, New York

After checking into the cottage, we drove up the road to the town proper of Alexander Bay to visit an ATM and get ice to replenish our supply [and enjoy a bit of ice cream – Caroline]. This was the bit of sunset we were offered here on the first full day of our vacation.

End of Solo, Start of Shared Vacation

Hamlet of Randolph on New York's Amish Trail

The eighth day of my drive is about to break me out of a solo experience and start a shared one when, by mid-afternoon, I pick up Caroline at the Buffalo Airport. At that moment, our vacation together officially begins. This morning, the day starts similarly to previous days with writing, but only some of it because I should have time up north to sit and finish my thoughts as I wait for her flight. When I woke, the rain was coming down, leaving me hesitant to take my stuff to the car, so I wrote a little longer until 9:30, a late start. This first note of Saturday was written where I had breakfast at the Allen Street Diner in Jamestown, New York, which is celebrating its 10th anniversary in business. Regarding the photo, I had just entered the Hamlet of Randolph on New York’s Amish Trail and did not want not to forget the charming name.

Little Conewango Creek in the Hamlet of Randolph, New York

The same reasoning motivated this photo, also in the Randolph, this is the Little Conewango Creek.

Barn in Little Valley, New York on Route 242

Passing through Little Valley on Route 242, I couldn’t help but stop for this barn, knowing it would trigger Caroline’s pareidolia.

Flowers on Toad Hollow Road in Little Valley, New York

The names of places are wonderful in this part of New York: I’m at the corners of Toad Hollow Road and Buelow Road, and the latter is interesting because a friend, Michael Geesmann, lives in Buelow, Germany. I saw a lot of this plant yesterday and today; I just learned it is known as Goldenrod and is a misery at this time of year for allergy sufferers.

On Toad Hollow Road in Little Valley, New York

There is no cute name for this pond, also on Toad Hollow Road, just a pleasant scene.

Mansfield Creek on Toad Hollow Road in Little Valley, New York

The waters seem a bit thin for fishing, but a nearby sign for Mansfield Creek invites just that.

East Otto Springville Road in East Otto, New York

My wishes that it wouldn’t be storming and blustery for Caroline’s arrival seem to be coming true. Once I reach Buffalo, I’ll have completed 2,540 miles since leaving Phoenix. Time behind the wheel is just under 68 hours, meaning I averaged about 37 miles per hour out on these backroads; as for fuel efficiency, the car informs me that I averaged 50.5 miles per gallon.

Caroline Wise and John Wise at the Buffalo Airport, New York

And here she is, fresh off the flight from Phoenix, Arizona. With four hours in the air, she had enough time to pluck the needles from her desert-toughened exterior, leave the smell of creosote behind, and was able to find a smile after being packed in an absolutely full flight.

Caroline Wise at Bocce Club Pizza in Buffalo, New York

This being not our first time visiting the city where I was born, we knew that Bocce Club Pizza had to be the first stop here. Aside from it and coffee, there was no time for any other nostalgia of sightseeing. Okay, that isn’t exactly true. On my way in, I stopped at Schwables, a small restaurant famous for beef on weck, a roast beef sandwich served on a kummelweck roll, a roll topped with kosher salt and caraway seeds. The old men of yore who used to be the servers here are gone, replaced by a new generation (I guess it was a Covid thing), and the cloth napkins are gone, as is free water. Not only do you have to buy a bottle of water, but there was something different about what used to be the best beef on weck I’d ever had, so another chain to nostalgia has been broken. As for the pizza, it’s the same great pizza as always, and it’s almost better the next day when it’s cold out of the refrigerator. That is exactly what I’m eating as I write this the following morning.

Caroline Wise in the corn near Buffalo, New York

I thought I was done sharing images of corn, but when I realized I could enhance the natural beauty of corn by placing my wife in front of it, that was an opportunity I couldn’t miss.

Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport near Buffalo, New York

Driving down country roads on our way to Spencerport, New York, where we’d be staying at the Sleeping Bear Inn, you can’t know our surprise when we spotted a plane flying an acrobatic routine out towards the Genesee Airport. Initially, I thought it might be a crop duster, but then the pilot started doing some quite interesting maneuvers. Our first vantage point wasn’t that great, but not knowing how long the pilot would be in the area, we figured a poor view was better than nothing at all. When we realized he wasn’t going away in a minute, we tried getting closer further down the road and found some others who’d set up chairs at the edge of a small cemetery, so we joined them.

Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport near Buffalo, New York

We later learned this was the Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport.

Wings Over Batavia Air Show at the Genesee County Airport near Buffalo, New York

If watching this kind of flying wasn’t enough, Caroline received a message on Whatsapp while we stood out here: she’d won something.

Huipil Caroline Wise won from a raffle in San Cristobal, Mexico

A month ago, Caroline sent some money to San Cristobal, Mexico, specifically Colectiva Malacate, a women’s coop that supports local weavers. This wasn’t her first time joining a raffle to win a huipil, but it was the first time she WON! Later, when we watched the video of the raffle, two women were seen holding this piece up; it was as wide as the two of them. This thing is big, and now it belongs to Caroline. Naturally dyed and handwoven, it’s an expensive piece that will probably be donated to a museum at some point in our future, but after vacation, it will be sent to Caroline to enjoy. This was an incredible surprise that topped an already amazing day.

Erie Canal in Spencerport, New York

Yet another surprise for us was crossing the Erie Canal here in Spencerport, where we stayed the night.

Solo Across America – Day 1

Caroline Wise and John Wise in Phoenix, Arizona

Actors, that’s what I’m calling us because looking at us, you wouldn’t believe our emotional turmoil when this photo was taken moments before saying bye until next Saturday. For months, we knew this day was coming; it’s not the first time we’ve been separated by travels that took one or the other of us somewhere away, but still, when the day arrives, when the hour creeps closer when the minutes wind down, there is no good way to hug and express our love adequately enough to allay the flood of emotions. Our tethers to one another grow shorter the older we become; romance is still our middle name.

Verde River in Fort McDowell Indian Reservation, Arizona

And here I am, a little later, behind the camera, with New York on the horizon. Actually, this is the Verde River on the Fort McDowell Yavapai Nation. I’ve wanted to grab a photo of this sight for years, but traffic on this bridge can move fast, making this stop precarious. Today, I took the opportunity to pull over as traffic wasn’t too bad. After I snapped this image, I was looking for a photo of the desert and some saguaro cacti that would encapsulate the environment I’m leaving, but this being summer, the landscape never offered up a scene I felt worthy of stopping for, especially when considering I have four hundred miles of driving ahead of me.

SR87 north of Strawberry, Arizona

The distance I’m driving today wouldn’t typically be an issue, but my commitment to avoiding all freeways means that not only will I have more opportunities to see the intimate side of America, but my pace will be slowed by the size of roads and more importantly, I get to stop for photos. That, though, is where problems arise. You see, taking photos in my mind only takes a few seconds, but in reality I can lose myself in the process, and I end up seriously delaying everything.

SR87 on the way to Winslow, Arizona

That is why I allocated eight days to drive out there, out across America. These very roads away from everything else draw me in, places where I can stand in the middle of the street on a busy Saturday, and people are polite enough to wait miles away for me to take a photo of a wide open space.

Little Colorado River in Winslow, Arizona

I emerged on the high desert approaching Winslow, Arizona, after passing through the cool forests of Payson, Pine, and Strawberry. I have no time for standing on the corner since I’ve been there and done that, as the saying goes. I’m feeling a bit anxious that I might be moving too slowly. It probably had something to do with leaving Phoenix later than planned, stopping at Starbucks and talking for a few minutes with regulars who wanted to hear about this trip, and then that u-turn I made to fetch some In & Out Burger that would be the last one I’d see for the next 8,000 miles (about 13,000km) I’ll be driving. Anyway, that’s the freeway out there crossing the Little Colorado River, and no, I’m not going to get on it to make up time. My commitment to this adventure of a backroads meander is holding fast.

SR87 on the Navajo Reservation in Arizona

I passed a Native American hitchhiker as I drove into the Navajo and Hopi Nations. While I have the space, I don’t have the headspace to want to talk with a passenger. I feel guilty for leaving that man at the side of the road, but I’m looking for my voice out here and to have the intrusion of someone else’s, well, that risks crowding out my own. Part of me thinks he might have lent me inspiration, but then I’d be writing his story, not mine.

Horses near Dilkon, Arizona

It’s not that State Route 87 is too big a road; it is only two lanes, but this Indian Route 60 gets that much further out. There are no fences out here near Dilkon, and something about that makes the land feel infinitely more open.

Navajo Reservation on the US 191 near Nazlini

After turning right on Indian Route 15, I was greeted by a torrential downpour that would have been great had it not been for all the signs warning that I was in a flashflood area. Getting photos of the deluge proved impossible, not that shooting through a windshield ever produces great results, and there was no stopping under that storm as all I wanted to do was get out of the flashflood zone and hope it wouldn’t start hailing. This is the otherside of Greasewood looking back at what I drove through.

Near Lukachukai on the Navajo Reservation, Arizona

Dreams of better weather to the west while directly overhead are reminders that rain isn’t far away.

Near Lukachukai on the Navajo Reservation, Arizona

The dark clouds of monsoon season stayed behind me or to the right, leaving me with the sense they were pushing me along. I’d stopped in Chinle to talk with Caroline on the phone, though we’d been chatting the entire morning into the afternoon as I worked my way northeast. A friendly rez dog approached and shared in my quick roadside dinner of a boiled egg and a lettuce roast beef wrap. This reminds me that we don’t have dog food in the car for these moments. I encountered this red rock on the road out of Lukachukai, which took me on a steep, twisty road up over some mountains and brought me closer to New Mexico.

Approaching Red Valley, Arizona

Off in the distance is Shiprock, which calls New Mexico home.

Rainbow in front of the Red Valley Trading Post, Arizona

I stopped at the Red Valley Trading Post as Caroline voiced a wish for a trinket of some sort, but sadly, this trading post doesn’t offer such things. They did have an incredibly friendly rez dog out front and this rainbow, so I didn’t leave empty-handed.

At the Arizona and New Mexico State Lines near Red Valley and Shiprock

It’s growing late in the day, and while I should be reluctant to stop for even more photos, I can’t help myself. Plus, I need to remember that I planned this so I could go slow, stop frequently to see the world, consider things, maybe write a bit, and have the flexibility to take my time. Sometimes, it isn’t easy to let go of urgencies and the sense that we need to be somewhere.

Indian Service Route 13 in New Mexico near Shiprock

While it never rained on me again after leaving the Greasewood area, the threat of wet weather was ever present and mostly acted as beautiful reminders of what monsoon season in the desert looks like.

Shiprock, New Mexico

I had been disappointed that Shiprock was in shadow as I approached from the southwest, but here I am on its eastern flank, and a dramatic sky frames it ever so nicely. It was well after 9:00 p.m. when I pulled into Farmington, New Mexico, and found a motel. I set the alarm for 5:30 to get out early before sunrise to set up in a Starbucks to write this post, as the photos were prepped before I went to sleep. It’s 7:15 in the morning when I finish this. The sun is up, and I’m ready to continue this meander east, hopefully without buckets of rain along the way.

Going Out, But Not Too Far

Duncan, Arizona

This shift of place on the map, which is about 10% of the distance between our home and Tybee Island, Georgia, on the Atlantic Coast, might suggest we are out to collect new experiences and the taking in sights that will dazzle our senses, but no, we are here to indulge in the full scope of exercising the doing of next to nothing. Absolute nothing could imply post-decay or post-cremation following the demise of our living selves, but we will attempt to take strides that will either appear glacial or at least indulgently slow. To this end, while we are walking the streets of Duncan (of which there are not many) if anyone else moving around in the early hours were to see us, we would drop into the children’s game called Statue (some might know it as Freeze). Like cats, we assume they can’t really see us when we stop moving.

Beetle with long shadow in Duncan, Arizona

Not willing to move the car to take us somewhere nearby we may have never been before, our choices are limited to walking out the front door of the hotel, turning left or right, and then navigating the options where our feet can carry us. North seems the logical direction as that’s where the most amount of nature is potentially taking place. The Gila River appears to be playing the same game of Statue as us because, with only a trickle of water in its channel as the monsoons haven’t yet contributed to its flow, it might be better to refer to it as the Muddy Gila Creek, about to seize into a solid at any moment.

Datura in Duncan, Arizona

With an abundance of toxic plants in bloom, such as members of the nightshade family and a few rather large datura specimens like this one, we walk in the cool morning air, appreciating the lively black and red ants, discarded mini-bottles of alcohol, a fragile beetle clinging to life (not the one pictured above this image), a solitary crane, and the occasional rumble of semi-trucks hauling something or other to the copper mine north of us.

Ant Lion in Duncan, Arizona

Never, prior to last month anyway, had we seen an ant lion, but here we are today, seeing our second one in hardly more than a couple of weeks. I think god is signaling to us that this is the time to play the lottery. However, my logical mind takes umbrage with that cockamamy idea and reminds me that it’s likely flying ant lion season during the summer and that Caroline and I don’t get out enough during this time of year in our surrounding deserts. And I answer that with, “Who in their right mind goes from one place that’s over 105 degrees (40 Celsius) to another that is just as hot?” Obviously, we have, and we must, because maybe twenty years ago, we could play the having-all-the-time-in-the-world card, seeing that mortality hadn’t raised its head yet. Now we know it’s now or never.

Tree of Heaven in Duncan, Arizona

Only because we are here in summer are we becoming acquainted with the Tree of Heaven. We’ve walked by these trees many a time, but displaying its samaras (seeds), it caught our eye in ways it never had before. At other times of the year, it sits there, growing out of the earth all woody and green leafy with nothing that says, look at me, nor does it say smell me. I added that because another name for this tree is stinking sumac, and should you try to eradicate this invasive species from your neighborhood, it becomes known as the Tree of Hell. Cut it down, and its roots will reroute the tree, foiling your efforts to remove this persistent plant.

Breakfast at Simpson Hotel in Duncan, Arizona

When Caroline and I were passing through for a couple of overnights back in April, I’d voiced that I’d love for Caroline to have the opportunity to sample Clayton’s version of eggs benedict using a dijonnaise instead of hollandaise, and so with that still in his memory, he was set up with the ingredients for exactly that this morning. I just searched my old posts and saw that I’d never mentioned this in posts about my visits earlier this year. A tragedy because the dish was well off the chart of amazing, and this morning delivered a perfect rendition of what I remembered. Stuffed, a trusty artificial intelligence informed me that the only relief to be found for this condition was to take a nap, and while there wasn’t a triclinium in sight, our bed worked just fine.

Caroline Wise in Duncan, Arizona

It’s now hours later with vague, fleeting images of moments of inactivity. Proper lunchtime had come and gone, and back then, I had been certain I was done eating until evening anyway. Apparently, I was wrong and could be convinced otherwise. Suffering from a sore backside being planted on a hardwood chair and running out of stuff to write about, a walk seemed in order, though my first thought was, why endure the heat of the day if it doesn’t arrive with some kind of reward for the effort? Choices involved the trusty Ranch House Restaurant, where we could share a little something before joining Deborah and Clayton once more for dinner, as we did last night, or we might dip into the ice cream shop that also offers sandwiches and occasionally burritos. Making these kinds of decisions on a weekend when we are practicing our Statue routine almost felt like too much effort. Then, only minutes later, we were sharing a toasted turkey, ham, and green chili sandwich at the River’s Roadside Cafe, and afterward, Caroline tried a scoop of their Oatmeal Cream Pie ice cream.

A Woodhouse Toad in Duncan, Arizona

Dark clouds have arrived, but the forecast says storms are a no-go for today. Darn, a bit of storming would have been a delight, pushing this weekend into perfection. Who am I fooling, though? Things were already perfect, except we were running a deficit of steps needed to make our exercise routine mostly complete, mostly because we’d still fall short, though not by much. Good thing our lack of drive was overcome because out on the wild streets of Duncan, we encountered a bunch of hungry woodhouse toads strolling the streets along with us while bats worked the skies, grabbing the insects the toads would never reach. As for Caroline and I, we don’t voluntarily make a habit of eating bugs, but when we do, they should be properly prepared in a succulent and tasty dish.

Friends and Folk Art in Santa Fe

Caroline Wise, Ivan and Merry, and John Wise in Santa Fe, New Mexico

I should begin this post talking about green chiles so as not to offend the gods of New Mexico. While we were starting the day at the Pantry, where we’d have breakfast that includes green chiles, we were also returning to meet with Ivan and Merry, who moved from Phoenix to Santa Fe just a week ago. We only learned of their repositioning on the map in the days after our return from Oregon. The speed of their escape was due to each of them encountering a lucky break that promised to turn out fortuitous for their lives and careers, with both finding employment opportunities that complement their aspirations and relationship. For the next three hours, we chatted, moving our conversations outside as the Pantry grew busier. From authors Thomas Pynchon and Arno Schmidt to Richard Powers, living situations, our recent travels, their 8th anniversary this past Tuesday the 9th, the burning of the Zozobra, relationships, life in Santa Fe, teaching, the Folk Market, crafting aspirations, the poem Sunday Morning by Wallace Stevens, and a hundred other things that were compressed into our abbreviated meeting, we talked about all we could coherently fit into our shared time and then with the market looming, we said goodbye until our paths cross again. This brief description of our encounter cannot do justice to the nuanced and subtle ways that a broad conversation about passionate matters can influence what was a speedy meeting. Maybe after they are settled, we might find some time in Santa Fe together, where we can meet without the pressures of schedules and other obligations over a weekend, maybe over coffee at our favorite pretentious local coffee shop called Ikonic.

Caroline Wise with Suvanese weaver Ice Sarlince Tede Dara, Caroline Wise, and Maria Cristina Guerrero at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

It was already noon when we stepped back into the Railyard Park for our last hours of visiting the International Folk Art Market (IFAM), and while I thought we were done shopping, there were still a couple of surprises for us. First, though, we needed to visit the Meet The Makers Indonesia booth to take a photo of Maria Cristina (Crissy) Guerrero, fiber artist Ice Sarlince Tede Dara from Savu (as I pointed out in yesterday’s post) with Caroline, who wore the sarong, also known as an Ei Raja, that she bought the day before. The provenance of Caroline’s Ei Raja (sarong) is as follows: the pattern is called Kobe Morena and is a design originating from the people of Savu, specifically with Dule Mudji of the Ae moiety and the female lineage of Ga. The fabric is naturally ikat dyed using indigo (blue to black) and the roots of the morinda tree (red). While anthropologist and author Dr. Genevieve Duggan shared many details of the origins of the piece, we’ll have to buy her book titled Savu: History and Oral Tradition on an Island of Indonesia if we really want to bring into our minds those details.

Australian print at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

Apparently influenced by Aboriginal Dreamtime painting, these Australian prints were available at the market, though they are not something we are necessarily interested in bringing into our lives, not because they lack beauty, but because we already have so much complexity in our lives and so many interests to interpret that we are close to being overwhelmed.

Also overwhelming is the extraordinary amount of pretension found here at the International Folk Art Market, possibly due to the abundance of privilege from many of those also able to spend such amounts of money at such an event. Fortunately, albeit rare among attendees but more common with the craftspeople, there is an integrity, passion, and enthusiasm that separates the simply wealthy from those who have an authentic joy for life and what great fortune really means, how it’s measured, and how to share what has been bestowed upon and within them. For the preening, look-at-me class of empty vessels that haughtily stride through, they befoul the environment with an ugly, selfish sense of perfection that feels fake and disrespectful, but that’s often the nature of America’s affluence at this juncture in our history.

Caroline Wise with skirt from Nagaland, India at the International Folk Art Market in Santa Fe, New Mexico

What is the value of owning something made of an extraordinarily uncommon material, such as stinging nettle? Well, if it looks and wears nicely, it could be a brilliant acquisition, and that’s what I think of the skirt Caroline is holding in her hands. The fiber artists who made this piece are from Nagaland, a relatively controversial state in India. Not only are most people from Nagaland Christian and not Hindu or Muslim, but there has been a movement seeking sovereignty as an independent country, which doesn’t play well when a country such as India has been flying the nationalist flag for decades and now, with the current movement against religions others than Hinduism (Hindutva), they must be even more unpopular. The implications regarding Nagaland’s issues seem to be an underlying factor about why goods from that corner of India are difficult to find in the worlds outside their borders, sadly.

So, here’s my German-American wife wearing a sarong from Indonesia, a shirt from Mali, one bag from Bolivia, another from Chiapas, Mexico, along with a bracelet of Peruvian good luck Huayruro seeds, while carrying her new skirt of stinging nettle, possibly from the Chakesang Naga tribe in the Phek district of Nagaland. Now, if only more people could embrace the diversity of options, expand their horizons, and pull back from the cultural conformity afflicting modernity.

La Choza Restaurant in Santa Fe, New Mexico

We thought that by returning to La Choza for a repeat visit at 4:30, right when they open for dinner, we’d get a table pretty quickly, but still, it took about 20 minutes as so many others had signed up before us. Caroline mixed things up when she deviated from the tried and true green chile and opted for Christmas style, with half the plate covered with red chile and the other with green chile, and to both of our surprise, the red chile here is likely the best we’ve ever had and is probably the spiciest.

After visiting IFAM here in Santa Fe, New Mexico, for three years running, we might take a break from next year’s festivities to allow the anticipation to build up again. Prior to our first visit in 2022, Caroline had wanted to attend for years, but for one reason or another, we were just not getting it together. And while our resolve here on our last full day in Santa Fe is to skip 2025, Caroline has been talking for a couple of years about being a volunteer at the event, so maybe our resolve is not set in stone.