The Vivid Traveler
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- Toolin' Around East Hampton NY in a Mustang
I enjoy the perks of being a travel professional, I really do! About a month ago I flew up to New York to spend a couple days with my good friend Jim in East Hampton. He advised me to fly into McArthur Airport in Islip (ISP)(GREAT AIRPORT, by the way, so much smaller than LaGuardia or JFK, I may even fly there on my next trip to the Big Apple). Anyway, some of the perks for travel agents and other travel pros are discounts, and upgrades, Hertz gave me both. After all the taxes and fees, and for less than they had originally quoted for a little economy car that I would have had to practically wear, I got upgraded to one of those Ford Mustangs that Hertz offers - I think it was a Shelby GT500 5.4 liter V-8 engine and 500hp.
I was on the phone with Jim, getting directions as I climbed into the car: bright yellow, but in no way Lemony, what a pleasure! Even though one hand was on the phone, it was so ergonomic; all the controls were right where I would expect them. I hung up with Jim, and proceeded out the gate to get on the highway, content to let those 500 horses trot at a mere two miles above the posted limit.
I headed east down highway 27, passing a police officer, who had no problem seeing me coming. In fact he had an eager look of anticipation as I approached, and seemed truly disappointed to see me go, or more accurately, to see me go so slow.
Islip to East Hampton is about 60 miles, but the road was soon congested with traffic so the whole trip is about an hour and forty minutes.
Sat, 30 Jun 2007 05:34:17 GMT - Day Trips From New York City: Cold Spring on-the-Hudson
I'm on a train on Metro North's Hudson Line, about fifty miles north of Manhattan. The sunlight sparkles on the Hudson River as I gaze lazily out of the window, enjoying the lulling effect of the train. Across the river I catch my first glimpse of West Point, and just beyond that, the unmistakable profile of Storm King, and the winding road cut into its impressive slope. Storm King Mountain was a popular subject for the early artists of the Hudson River School, and it is one of the highest peaks in the area, at a mere 1,340 feet. The mountains along the Hudson, are mere hills when compared to the Rockies (with an average height of more than 10,000 feet), or even the Smokies (with an average height of more than 5,000 feet).
Station Stop is Cold Spring, Cold Spring! the conductor calls. I grab my day-pack, rise to my feet, and move down the aisle toward the door. I pause briefly to brace myself as the train lurches gently to a stop.
Stepping off the train one is immediately taken with the quaintness of the place. The streets preserve an air of 19th century home-townie goodness, which would fill me with nostalgia even if I hadnt grown up here.
I turn toward the river and make the short walk to the foot of Main Street, passing the Hudson House, one of the largest inns on the Hudson River. I feel deeply connected to this particular place. As a teenager I used to Scoop-the-Loop, the local practice of cruising in ones car slowly down Main Street, making the two block detour left over the bridge above the railroad tracks, to come to the spot where I now stand, for the sole purpose of circling the 1920s bandstand. When I was 18 or 19, this was an activity that we would repeat several times on a Friday or Saturday night.
I spend the rest of the morning traversing about six blocks along Main Street. Antique shops have taken over, literally. The old Bijou Theater is now an antique shop, as is the old plumbing and hardware store. What was once Glicks clothing store is now an antique mall. I dont mind. For me this is a great way to kill time, all the fun of a museum with the chance of finding a treasure, and the remote chance of buying it for a steal.
I spend nearly an hour in Others Oldies Antiques, with its eclectic collection of plain old neat stuff, but after that I am antiqued out. For a change of pace I duck into Back In Ireland, which sells Irish stuff, and I buy a Celtic cross, but now I am famished.
There are plenty of places to eat in Cold Spring: The Cold Spring Depot Restaurant which was the original 1894 train station, for instance, or the Foundry Café. Being a man of simple tastes, I opted for a little slice of heaven from Cold Spring Pizza and Deli at 120 Main Street.
Just south of downtown Cold Spring are the ruins of the old West Point Foundry, the destination of my planned afternoon hike. The Foundry Café no doubt takes its name from the old foundry. The Foundry began operations in 1817 and continued through 1911. According to "The Hudson, from the Wilderness to the Sea" by Benson J. Lossing (1866), it was the "most extensive and complete of the iron works of the United States."
I follow a stony path along foundry stream to a young wood. The ground is spongy, but not damp, and there are several brick buildings - shells really in various states of disrepair. Some are mere walls, and they have deteriorated since I was here last, some 30 years ago. Yet somehow the character, workmanship, and architecture are still discernable. I have no idea what any particular building is, but when I was a boy, one of them had a fantastic old copula that looked like a bell-tower, it has since been removed.
The sun is low in the sky as I make my way back along the gravel path paste the Audubon wildlife sanctuary. Looking south I have a great view of Dicks Castle, a 100 year old 45,000-square-foot Moorish castle that has never been finished.
The path leads me right back to the train station, and I am just on time. Ill be climbing out of Grand Central Station in less than an hour. All in all, it has been a very pleasant day, but a bit heavy on the walking.
Tue, 29 May 2007 08:01:56 GMT
