Cape Cod – May 1999 (Part Two; Whale Watching in Provincetown)

WHALE WATCHING

One of the great things which can be done in the Cape Cod area was getting on a boat to go on a whale watch.  We hoped on the Mid-Cape Highway to take us all the way to the end of the cape for this.  The cape is shaped like an arm when come body-builder is flexing his muscle.  Not far north of where the “elbow” would be, the highway becomes a regular two-lane road.  That took us all the way to Provincetown, otherwise known as “P-Town” to the locals.  Provincetown is a sleepy little coastal town, whose population jumps up dramatically during the summer (kind of the way Lake George’s does).  P-Town is also supposed to be “east coast San Francisco” as far as the gay community goes, but in the entire time there we didn’t see anything different than what I’ve any other place I’ve been.

When we got to the long dock which jutted far out into Provincetown Harbor, we saw there was a good amount of people awaiting the whale watch tour.  Put on by Cape Cod Whale Watch (also known as the Dolphin Fleet of Provincetown), they had a decent-sized boat which could hold a hundred or so people, which is smart, because anything smaller would probably get dunked by the passing of multi-ton beasts.  Whales are extremely intelligent, and would be completely justified in taking out a few boats full of human as payback for our hunting of them.  The day was nice, the water clam, and the sun was bright, but it wasn’t too hot.  The sea breeze made it comfortable, so a light jacket was all you needed.

Organizers of any whale watch tour preface the journey by letting you know there’s no guarantee that you’ll actually see any whales on the trip.  They don’t want to be sued for false advertising by stupid people.  They let you know you’ll be driven out to an area where whales are known to be, and you hope that some will be there when you arrive.  Whales are migratory, so they don’t stay in one place too long (except for birthing season, which this was not).  Even you happen upon a location where the whales are, these fickle creatures might be playful and splash around, or bashful and not make much of an appearance.

While I really wanted to see some whales, I figured the boat ride around the area would be worthwhile in itself.  We had a half-circle loop which brought us the “hand” of the cape, and out into ocean.  The boat had spotters to look for the pods of whales, although I’m sure there was some sort of radar at work too to help locate them.  The other passengers stood on either side of the deck scanning the seas, looking for the whale-shaped bumps, water-spouts (the animal exhaling and/or blowing it’s nose), or other signs.  Some had binoculars, which was a good idea.

As we got out in the open water, you could feel the waves gently rock the boat.  There wasn’t much motion, but it was present (this will be notable later).  Chaz hung out inside under cover a good chunk of the trip, as he didn’t want to soak up a bunch of sun like he did the other day.  Brian and I stood out on deck, as we both have pretty good balance when walking.  Brian said he was really hoping to see a whale breach, which is when they jump out of the water, and come down with a big splash.

Eventually the first sighting happened, and we got closer to where the animals were.  These were humpback whales, still riding high on the popularity from their Star Trek movie a decade earlier.  What we could see mostly was the dark sleek heads which came to the surface.  As air breathers, that’s where they spend most of their time travelling, even though they can hold their breaths and descend to great depths.  Instead of teeth, most whale species have some comb-like filament which strain the water out, and retain the food in their mouths.  A sea gull was sitting on the water watching the proceedings when a whale came up from beneath.  There was a lot of splashing which happened, but I didn’t see the gull after that.  It’s doubtful the whale ate it, but not impossible.

Remember what I said about the whales potentially dunking boats?  I don’t think they actually tried to do that to our boat, but it was a pretty good attempt.  Tag team whales versus a boatload of tasty humans.  One whale came swimming towards the boat’s left side; he wasn’t charging it or playing chicken, but some thought he was trying to ram us.  A few dozen feet before we would’ve hit, the whale goes into a dive.  The waves from that tilted the boat in the direction he’d been heading (so we listed to the right).  Just as that was happening, a second whale came to the surface on the right-side of the boat, which made waves that tilted us back in the other direction.  I’m sure it was good timing on the whales’ part, something coincidental, as I don’t think they were purposely trying to take us out.  Keep in mind, I wouldn’t put it past them to try.  Who knows what they’re saying with that sonar of theirs?

The whales then congregated in an area, and rolled on their sides or backs.  That showed the whiteness of their bellies, and front flippers (which are called flukes).  A few waved their flukes back and forth in a playful manner as they rolled.  One or two reared up a bit before splashing back down, but not actual breaches as Brian had hoped for.  As they sank back down into the water, the tails lingered for a moment before sliding beneath the waves.  The various white spots on the whales allowed them to be identified by the watch crew, who had given cute human-sounding names.  No George and Gracie here, but you get the idea.  Only a fraction of the whales they see ever get named, only because those are the ones that have regular confirmed sightings from year to year.

The whales frolicked for a bit, and then they swam on, continuing on their destination.  Our time seeing the whales had been about a half-hour.  Not a lot of time, but time well spent.  Our tour boat arced around, and returned to Provincetown.  When we were departing for the whale watch, we could see a tower jutting over the town.  It clearly wasn’t a light house, but we weren’t sure what it was.  Now that we were back, we were able to get a closer view of what it was.  This was the Pilgrim Monument.

Completed in 1910, the tower is over 250 feet high, and made to remember the Pilgrims which landed here hundreds of years earlier.  There was some controversy when it was built, because in addition to looking similar to a tower in Boston, there’s nothing about this uniquely reflects the Pilgrims it was supposed to be honoring.  I gathered perhaps this was done as more of a “feel-good” political statement than an actual historical marker.  I’ve been to Plymouth Rock, and it’s no where near here (it’s on the other side of Cape Cod Bay).  Unfortunately, the Monument wasn’t open, so we couldn’t get inside.  The view from there would’ve been fabulous.

CAPE COD NATIONAL SEASHORE

After the whale watch, we explored the nearby Cape Cod National Seashore.  This is a stretch of beach which encircles the tip of the cape from P-Town Harbor clockwise until the northeastern portion.  It covers a length of about forty miles, and was one of the first places the Pilgrims got to see the New World back in 1620.  While this had many desirable features for them, they decided to settle across the bay in Plymouth.

This area was formed at the end of the last glacial period about 15,000 years ago, so Cape Cod is young (geologically speaking).  While “beach” is a correct term here, what this looks like is more sand dunes, punctuated by some small bushes and scrub grass.  Some life does exist out here, as evident by the bunny that tried to run out in front of us, so it’s not a coastal desert.  We were able to have a local take us on a driving tour of the area in his four-wheel drive.

Dotting the landscape were large numbers of shacks.  These were squatter huts, also known as the Dune Shacks of Peaked Hill Bars Historic District.  At some point, someone would decide they wanted to live out on the beach in semi-seclusion, and build a shabby dwelling out of whatever they could find, had brought with them, or had picked up at a hardware store.  They’d live out on this 1900-acre parcel of public land for a period of time, and then leave, returning to whatever life they’d needed a sabbatical from (sounds like Thoreau’s summer at Walden Pond, doesn’t it?)  In later years, people would come out, and just assume a shack which had already been built (doing whatever improvements were needed to make it habitable again).

Since Provincetown was a hippy haven, there were a number of people who’ve inhabited these shacks over the years, including writers, painters, musicians, and philosophers.  I pictured Hemingway having a place like this on a Caribbean beach.  We were told some of the more notable dwellers were Tennessee Ernie Ford, and Norman Mailer.  Even though this is a national area, some people still come out for short periods to use the shacks, but for the most part they remain as they are.

At certain times, the jeep stopped so we could get out and wander around the dunes a bit.  We didn’t walk up to any of the squatter hits though.  I know I was in no mood to pull my shoes off and shake sand out of them, and I had my hiking boots on.  While not the easiest to remove, boots do a pretty good job at keeping sand and crap from getting inside in the first place.  Chaz didn’t care about the sand, as he had sandals on.

The trail we were on didn’t bring us too close to the water’s edge, as our guide stayed on the established tour path.  It was getting dark during our tour.  While there wasn’t a good sunset view available, how the remaining light reflected off the clouds in the twilight hours was still pretty to look at.

The lighthouse off in the distance was one of two here.  This was called Highland Light, which was built back in the 1850s, and stood on the Truro bluffs.  (The other, which I didn’t get a picture of, was called Nauset, and was constructed in 1923.).  But due to concerns these historic buildings being damaged or destroyed as the sea encroaches and erodes the coast, these were moved further inland by a few hundred feet just a few years ago.  While Nauset is privately-run, Highland Light is still in official navigation use by the Coast Guard.

For current information on the places visited (or mentioned):

Provincetown:  http://www.provincetown-ma.gov/

Whale Watching:  http://www.whalewatch.com/

Pilgrim Monument:  http://www.pilgrim-monument.org/

Cape Cod National Seashore:  http://www.nps.gov/caco/index.htm

###  30  ###

Cape Cod – May 1999 (Part One; Deep Sea Fishing)

AND SO IT BEGINS…

Brian and Chaz had been out in Glens Falls to celebrate New Year’s, and we were having the post-celebratory breakfast at Steve’s Place when they made a suggestion.  Brian’s parents had a time-share out in Cape Cod, so why don’t the three of us spend the week out there in May.  It made since to do so, as I was now solo.  The last time I’d been anywhere near Cape Cod was when my age was counted in single digits, so that sounded like a plan.  And as it was five months away, that left enough time to secure the week off from work, and save cash for the trip.  Three young men in their late-twenties exploring what the area had to offer (and right at end of the semester for most colleges, to boot), so that should be interesting.  Over the next couple weeks the arrangements were made, and I looked forward to the trip.

When May rolled around, we worked out the logistics to have Brian and Chaz drive over from Syracuse to my place, and then we’d take my car the rest of the way.  All our cars were roughly the same age (where mileage was concerned), but there was more room in my black Sunfire than Brian’s truck or that shoebox that Chaz drives.  Bete Noire would be our transportation for the week.  The trip would only take a few hours, so between music on the CD player and conversation, the time would pass quickly.

The Northway took us to Albany, and then Interstate 90 took us pretty much the rest of the way.  Once we reached Framingham, we grabbed a south-easterly route that would take us towards Cape Cod (because if we stayed on 90, we would’ve been dropped into Boston).  There’s a canal which separates the cape from the mainland, and the major artery for that was known as the Mid-Cape Highway.  (The canal was man-made, in order to allow shipping not to have to circumvent the cape.  Because of that, technically Cape Cod is an island.)

We pasted the city of Hyannis, which I only know from the song “Rock and Roll Band” (by the aptly-named Boston).  Soon we located our destination, the town of West Yarmouth (which was near Lewis Bay, and the Atlantic Ocean was beyond that).  The name of the resort was The Cove.  Located on a small inlet off the bay, it was a series of long two-story buildings, complete with tennis courts.  It looked it could’ve been college dorms or decent apartment housing, but these were condos designed to be time-share properties.  It was a very nice looking area.

Once we got settled, we set out to drive around the area in order to get our bearings.  Another reason for doing this was to make sure we had the correct route to the docks where we’d be meeting the chartered boat tomorrow morning.  Let’s figure it out while its daylight and have the time to do so, as opposed when it’s still dark and we don’t want the boat to leave without us.  We figured out where the berth was (over in Wellfleet Harbor), and got a good look at what we’d be on the next day, the Erin-H, a 36-foot diesel-powered craft.  It was looking to be fun (seriously, not sarcastically).

Since we still had time left in the day, we stopped at a mini-golf location that was all decked out in a sailing motif.  Called Cape Escape Adventure Golf, it was decked out with actual fishing boats, waterfalls, and a fish pond.  We had a casual game, and got some milkshakes too.  As far as I’m concern, most min-golf courses are pretty much the same.  There’s a par three hole you have to sink the ball into avoiding obstacles.  While I’ve found some courses which I didn’t think were very challenging, I’ve never found one I didn’t like.

I’ve noted before that I try to play mini-golf where ever I can, because it’s fun no matter what your skill level is.  (I’ve tried real golf a couple times, which was interesting, but not enough to make want to do it frequently.  Drinking at the clubhouse afterwards was the best part about real golf.)  Between the time I’d put in recently at Lake George’s “Around the World,” and the less-crowded “Hillbilly Holes” (in Fort Ann), my ability is pretty good.  I play mostly to challenge myself, to see if I can do better, and that’s even when I’m playing against others.  Brian and Chaz are rather competitive, and it was quite fun watching them try to do the other.  Who won doesn’t matter, because in the end we had fun.

DEEP SEA FISHING

Normally I’m getting up for work around 6.30ish, and rolling into the office not long after that (an advantage of living close to your job).  We had to be at the boat by that time, because we wanted to be underway just before dawn.  There was no reason to shower that early in the morning, as I figured we’d be outside all day.  And since I’d just gotten this nice short buzz-cut, I didn’t need to put on a hat to cover-up my messed-up hair.  Brian still put his hat on, but Chaz felt he needed to shower.  Chaz had the least natural topical covering on his head, so he needed the hat more than any of us.

We made it to the dock with plenty of time, and were introduced to the captain and the first-mate.  Chaz had previously made all the arrangements for the charter, so he knew who they were.  Unfortunately I couldn’t recall their names any longer than five minutes after the initial introduction.  For the remainder of this narrative, they’ll be referred to respectively as Skipper and Gilligan.  No disrespect here, just my fuzzy morning memory.  (If I recalled who the captain was, and which charter company Chaz used to book this, then it would’ve been a great recommendation.)  Once we got underway, we pretty much didn’t see Skipper until the end of the journey, as he stayed at the helm of the boat the entire time.

The water was very calm this morning, and there was a cloud-cover which gave it a grey over-tone.  It didn’t look like it was going to storm, so we figured we’d more comfortable without the constant sun beating down on us later in the day.  We had our jackets on because the morning air had a little chill in it, and more so once the boat was moving away from the coast into the open sea.  We sat on the back of the boat a bit, and then came inside the enclosed galley section to use as a windbreak.  A light breakfast of granola bars and hot chocolate started out morning.

After about a half-hour or so, we arrived at the appropriate location.  Skipper then cut the engine down to a minimal amount, so we could troll the area without creating too much of a wake.  Gilligan broke out the tackle, baited the hooks, and started setting out the lines (each line had multiple hooks on it).  Four different poles were set up, one on each side of the boat, and the other two off the back.  Instead of holding the rods until some future time a fish bites at it, the rods were secured in metal tubes.  Gilligan explained when a fish would grab at a line, the rod would bend significantly, and then he could easily lift the pole from where it was, and place it in tube in the chair which was center at the ass-end of the boat (in nautical terms, that would be the aft).  Gilligan also marked some lines on the tackle box, and noted because of the time of year, this was the minimum length we’d need to catch in order to keep it.  Everything else gets thrown back.

We decided to take turns for when the poles bent, so we shared equally in the experience as much as possible.  Brian was seated and ready to go when the first bite happened.  He turned the handle of the spool, and mentioned it was hard to do.  The hooked fish was trying to disengage himself from the hook, thus moving wildly in every direction, and he had traction of being in his own element.  It took a few minutes, but Brian eventually reeled the fish in.  It was just over a foot long, which was under the size limit, but it still put up quite the fight.  We all had the impression he’d reeled in something much larger.  Brian commented that had taken a lot out of him, as it felt like he was trying to bring in ten pounds (when the actual weight was less than that).

I was next in the chair, and I was ready.  Gilligan handed me the next wildly-bending pole, and I felt the force the fish was putting up.  Whatever was down there, it was fighting for its life.  As the fish was struggling to extract itself from the line, it exerts a lot of pressure and can use the water it swims in as traction.  Brian joked that it wasn’t as easy as it looked was it.  With a firm grip on the pole, I gave it a hard yank backwards, and reeled in the line as the momentum brought me forward again.  I’d learned that trick from watching my grandfather fish.  I was straining more than Brian had been, so I knew I had a bigger one of the line, it was just a matter of getting it in.  The yank-and-reel routine was repeated a half-dozen times, before Gilligan reported he saw the fish come towards the surface.

Fish is a strange word, as it’s both singular and plural.  I succeeded in hooking four fish on the line.  Okay, I hadn’t hooked them (as the bait did that), but I’d brought those bastards into the boat.  Each one was about the size of what Brian had just brought in, so I’d just battled against four times the force he did.  Even the way I did it wasn’t easy, it still was a workout.  All four of what I’d just caught were under limit, so back in the drink they went.

When Chaz was in the chair, he had two on the line which were larger than what had been pulled up earlier, so it was still the same amount of fight.  For the next couple hours we took turns doing that, and the vast majority of the fish we caught were the same size.  For all I knew, some may’ve been so stupid to get themselves caught more than once.  Chaz went inside the galley to lay down for a bit, either because the wave motion or sun had gotten to him.  As the day went on, and it got warmer, we’d shed a couple layers.  Because it was still over-cast, the sun’s rays weren’t as intense, but all the UV still came through.  Chaz had probably soaked up than he wanted to.

We had a light lunch out there, and started making our way back into shore.  Brian had caught the only fish which was over limit, and he didn’t want to keep it.  There’s no reason to keep something you don’t plan on cooking up.  It was offered to me, but I declined also (and because fish is not something I eat much of).  Chaz wanted it, so Gilligan cleaned it, and all the meat was packed in some butcher paper and put in the cooler.  There was enough for one or two average-sized dinner steaks.  That wasn’t a lot of meat for the work which went into getting it.

Back at the dock, we thanked Skipper and Gilligan, and made sure to tip them well.  We headed back to The Cove for some relaxation time, as we weren’t doing anything else that afternoon.  Chaz napped, while Brian and I played cards for a bit.  It was nice to feel the solidity of dry land again, because soon we’d be back out on the open water again.

For current information on the places visited (or mentioned):

Cape Cod:  http://www.capecodchamber.org/

Mid-Cape Highway:  http://www.bostonroads.com/roads/mid-cape/

West Yarmouth:  http://www.yarmouthcapecod.com/

The Cove:  http://www.coveatyarmouth.com/

Erin-H:  http://www.virtualcapecod.com/erinh/

Cape Escape Adventure Golf:  http://www.capeescapeadventures.com/

Lake George’s “Around the World”:  http://www.aroundtheworldgolf.com/

Hillbilly Holes:  http://www.lakegeorge.com/hillbillygolf/

###  30  ###

Fort William Henry, Appalachian Trail, and Buffalo Stadium -- 1997 & 1998

FORT WILLIAM HENRY (LAKE GEORGE, NY) – AUGUST 1997

One of the main attractions in Lake George is Fort William Henry, which is a re-creation of the English fort which fell to the French in the late 1750s.  (The French demolished it, and the area was never rebuilt until this replica was done in the 1950s.)  There’s always some sort of re-enactment or event going on, so any given weekend day of the summer you can find something interesting to see.  We were up in Lake George, and heard the cannons going off.  That right there was worth checking out.

As much as the out-of-town tourists annoy me, the fort isn’t shooting live ammo.  They’re not even shooting blanks, but something which make a lot of smoke and noise.  It still gives you an idea of how loud that shit was when it went off.  It’s a wonder the enlisted men could hear any orders given by the officers.

The re-enactors suggested that visitors, who were not wearing the ear plugs they were, to stop up their ears as much as possible in order to minimize any hearing damage.  These guys do this multiple times a day, for a large number of days in a row, so yeah they were protection (but at least it blends in with the period garb, as not to be noticed).  This was just a day trip, but a good way to note what can be found if you look around in your home area.

APPALACHIAN TRAIL (MECHANICSBURG, PA) – AUGUST 1998

Now that I was single again, it was time to renew some old friendships which hadn’t been able to be maintained.  It’d been a while since I’d seen Cara, but we still corresponded via email.  She worked as one of the people that got to maintain the Appalachian National Scenic Trail.  While that meant a lot of environmental work to keep erosion from wiping out the trail, it was a job which had her outside frequently.  Her base was in the small Harrisburg suburb of Mechanicsburg, as there was an access point to the trail not far from there.  Arrangements were made, and it was a good long weekend trip for me.  Brian didn’t live in Harrisburg anymore, but I took the same route to get to Cara as I’d taken a few years early to get to his place.

The base were Cara lived was a barracks area behind a farmhouse.  The farmhouse had year-round caretakers who lived there, and that’s where the meals were cooked.  All the trail workers prepared and ate together, even though their assigned time at this location varied.  While there was some privacy within the barracks due to small walls, it was generally set up with guys on one side, and girls on the other, with the bathrooms to one side.  A few bunks were available, but many just slept on mattresses on the floor.  It had been years since I’d gone camping, and this was a nice way to re-acquaint myself with it.

We drove a short distance to the trailhead, and did a nice all day hike.  Cara chose an easy trail because she was used to doing this, and I wasn’t.  Simple fact my job was in front of a computer, so no harm in admitting it.  The trail wasn’t a cakewalk that’s for sure, but I wasn’t dying trying to complete it.  Once we reached a nice area, I was able to climb out on to the rocks to get a better view of the scenery.  Every time I get to see green mountains, I find them fabulous.

Cara maneuvered herself off to a rocky precipice to one side so she could get a shot of me with my own camera.  She’s always been rather sure-footed.  I’m not too bad, no where near her level.  My situation has always been heights, or more specifically, the scaling thereof.  I was fine hanging out there on the rocks, because I knew I wasn’t going anywhere.  So I’m not scared of the heights, but the fall that could occur.  And if you want to really technical, it’s not the fall which I’m afraid of, but the sudden stop at the end.

I do much better tackling these heights when I know right where to place my feet, and all I need to do is look up.  The portion of the trail we used to get up here was steep, but I had no problem scaling it.  My knees shook a lot when I was coming back down.  Call me a weenie if you’d like.  In order to capture the section of the trail I found most difficult, I took a shot of what it looked like once I’d reached the bottom of it.

Now compare that to the shot I took right before I went down the bloody thing.

The shot from the bottom gave the illusion that it was longer than it was high.  The shot from the top made it appear that it was straight down, when the actual slope was of a more gentle angle (but not by much).  It was a good hike, and I enjoyed it.

We spent the rest of the weekend catching up, wandering around the rather small city of Mechanicsburg (which was probably about the size of Glens Falls, being generous), and tried out a few good pubs.  It was a great way to renew the friendship.

BUFFALO STADIUM (BUFFALO, NY) – OCTOBER 1998

Brian asked if I wanted to go to a football game with him.  My favorite sport is hockey, but since he’d scored some pretty good tickets, I decided why not.  Brian’s team was the New York Giants, and he had no vested interest in who won the game specifically.  I’d been a kinda fan of the Jacksonville Jaguars, who the Buffalo Bills would be hosting.  Since Brian was living in Syracuse, so I drove out there, we’d hop in his truck, and then cruise the rest of the way to Buffalo.  I’d never been to a football stadium before, so I figured it’d be just as rowdy as any hockey crowd was.  Hockey is placed in an enclosed arena, and most are located right within a decent-sized urban area.  For some reason, my mind pictured a football stadium would be located we our in the middle of no where.

It wasn’t.  The stadium (known officially as the Ralph Wilson Stadium) was located in the Buffalo suburb of Orchard Park.  Think of a small town with a huge freakin’ stadium in the middle of it.  The streets were lined with trees and residential neighborhoods, and parking was a bear.  We were able to get a close spot, so we didn’t have to walk too far.

The seats we had were the third row, although way over towards the end zone.  While it was hard to see the progress of the game from where we were, large monitors on either side helped us keep up.  And when the game (which was being televised) went to commercial, the screens played various short segments designed to inspire the home team.  The ones I found most memorable were of Flintstones, with Fred & Barney in their “Buffalo Lodge” hats.  One advantage of being that close to the action was the nice view we’d get of the cheerleaders when they’d go bouncing by.

Watching the people in the stands was as interesting as watching the players on the field.  Hockey fans may be rabid, but they’re not nuts like football fans.  One guy was decked out in a pink bunny suit (he must’ve lost a bet), and others had a lot of variations of the red & blue team colors.  A lot of people were waving around these red cereal boxes, which I didn’t understand at all.  Brian explained the Bills’ star quarterback was Doug Flutie, and there was a cereal made with him image on it, called Flutie Flakes.  This was more than shameless self-promotion, as proceeds from the sale of the cereal went towards a charity design to seek a cure for autism.

The game ended with a Buffalo victory, but not by much.  Since the weather was nice, we just hung out in the truck a bit to let the traffic thin out, and then we headed back towards Syracuse.  Attending a live football game is a recommended activity, even if it’s just to feel the pulse of the crowd.

For current information on the places visited:

Fort William Henry:  http://www.fwhmuseum.com/

Appalachian Trail:  http://www.nps.gov/appa/index.htm and http://appalachiantrail.com/

Mechanicsburg:  http://www.mechanicsburgborough.org/

Buffalo Bills Stadium:  http://www.buffalobills.com/stadium/

Flutie Flakes:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Flutie_Flakes

            ###  30  ###

Myrtle Beach – May 1997 (Part Five; Planet Hollywood)

PLANET HOLLYWOOD

It was overcast our last night here, and there was a slight drizzle.  It didn’t bother us, as the weather had been pleasant all week.  We decided to go someplace nice for dinner, so we went to Planet Hollywood.  We’d heard about how we could get “California-style cuisine” there, although we had no idea what that was.

Looking like a giant blue bowling ball sitting there, Planet Hollywood was a chain-restaurant that was started by Arnold, Stallone, Bruce Willis, and a few other 1980s action heroes.  Like its major competitor (Hard Rock Café), the lobby had a gift shop where you could get mugs, shirts, key chains, and other things which could carry the logo.  Unlike Hard Rock Café (which has a location just about everywhere, including one on Mars, I’m sure), most Planet Hollywood’s were located on the West Coast.  This was a chance to experience something I normally wouldn’t have access to.

The ceiling of the lobby was decorated with a giant alien ship from Independence Day (with corresponding defending Earth planes), and a few other notable flying machines.  This décor carried throughout the dinning area, as there were props from various movies scattered about.  Some were more current, and others were obscure.  Some were both current and obscure, like the motorcycle from Stallone’s horrible Judge Dredd.  After we ordered, we looked around the area and made a trivia game out of it.  Since we both worked within the TV listings industry (and by default, got to be familiar with films), that was fun.

I had a nice onion-roasted chicken breast, and the side greens were a healthier variety than the salads I’d normally see at places.  No ice burg lettuce here, as it was spinach, kale, and things that looked like dandelion leaves.  It was good food, but not enough for me to consider it a different “cuisine” at all.

At one point, I needed to get up and use the restroom.  While movie-prop décor didn’t continue inside, it done to appear really high-class looking, with a lot of hard wood and brass fixtures.  There was a guy in a suit standing in there, which seemed odd to have someone loitering in the loo, so I paid him no attention.

When I came out of the stall, he stepped towards the sink and turned the faucets on for me.  I then figured out what he was, the bathroom attendant you’re supposed to tip afterwards.  I also noticed on there was a shelf running along the length of the mirrors which contain various bottles of cologne and boxes of cigars.  As the attendant handed me the fresh towel to dry my hands, he asked if the “gentleman” care to try any, and pointed to the fragrances and stogies.  It took me a moment to realize that he meant me (I’m not used to being called a gentleman), and politely declined.  I had a Lincoln in my pocket, so I handed that to him upon exiting.

I told Molly about my experience, and she immediately went over to the ladies room to confirm if the same treatment existed there.  It did, but they didn’t have cigars.  She said it was weird to have a lady hand her a towel, but probably less weird than having a guy lurking in the men’s john.  I noted there was one good thing about the attendants hanging out there, you know someone be there to assist if you happened to run out of paper.

This was a restaurant, but considering the décor, the employees were use to patrons wandering around and looking at things.  We tried to be nonchalant about it, as not to annoy the other guests.  The bill was a little on the higher side than other places we’d been during the week (discounting the dinner theatre), but it was worth it for the ambiance.

It was now raining when we left, so we made a mad dash for the car to keep from getting soaked.  You don’t want to put wet clothes in your suitcase, so we laid those out to dry.  Everything else was packed up (excepting what to wear for the trip back), and enjoying the cool misty breeze from the balcony one last time, we sacked as soon as we could.  We’d be getting up early and starting the long trek back north.

SOUTH OF THE BORDER

When Yankees cross the Mason-Dixon line, they realize the laws have changed.  Fireworks are illegal to purchase in New York (and technically to possess, too).  Sparklers are available in Pennsylvania and Maryland, but we have to further south in order to get the good explosive stuff.  On the drive down, once you’re within fifty miles of this location, you see a sign for it every few miles.  And when you’re within five miles, it’s a sign every few yards.  This is South of the Border, which I think is the largest place within the country to obtain fireworks.

There’s over a dozen buildings just for the explosive vendors, in addition to other eateries and distractions which solely exist to make tourists part with ever more of their money.  We cruised past it on the way down, with the promise we’d hit it on the way back.  It made sense not to have a lot of items made with gun-powder that’d be sitting for a week in trunk under the hot sun.  Also there was the space issue, as we wanted to make sure we had room for anything else might pick up first.

So we stopped on the way back, and took a short time to look around.  Molly wasn’t happy with the amount of stuff I was planning on buying.  She didn’t understand I was acting as an arms dealer, because over half the stuff I was grabbing would be handed over to Shawn (who would promptly pay me back).  After I explained that, she still wasn’t happy about it.  In the end, I chose the martial bliss, and only bought a small (but respectable) amount.

We stayed at a small motel with a diner to end the first day of our drive back.  The diner had pretty decent breakfast specials going on, although I normally don’t want to eat a huge amount before I’m going to be sitting in a car all day.  I took the opportunity to ask for a side of grits, as I hadn’t tried them yet.  I’m not sure what it’s made of, some sort of liquefied rice, but it smelled like something had died and/or pissed in it.  Yankee blood had nothing to do with not liking it all.  You can only find grits when you go down south, and as far as I’m concern, they can stay there.

As this was our first extended vacation together, it turned out to be pretty well.  There were a few bumps in the road which needed to be ironed out, but we knew what we’d need to work on for the next trip.  Molly said she usually went every year or every other year, so we’d be going back before too long.  Things are always changing, so they’d be new things to see, and favorites to re-experience.

My family did travel a lot, but the place we kept returning to time and time again was the cottage near Watertown.  I knew about watching an area change from season to season, seeing what was new, what had closed, and which special haunts had changed hands.  I would honestly say I had a decent time in Myrtle Beach, and it was a nice area, but for me it wasn’t a place that I’d want to keep going back to year after year.  Even though there were things I didn’t get to see, going there once was sufficient.

Okay, even though this picture was taken pretty early in the trip, I’m placing it here at the end of the log because it’s too good not to use.  As it’s a shot of a sunset, it made sense to tuck it in at the conclusion of the entry.  Enjoy the view!

For current information on the places visited:

Planet Hollywood:  http://www.planethollywoodintl.com/locations/myrtle-beach/

South of the Border:  http://www.thesouthoftheborder.com/

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