Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Side-tracks while tracking down the ancestors

A joint post from Gary and Diane (all photos by Gary).

We are back in Cleveland—Lakewood actually—the Cleveland skyline is out the window about five miles away across a slice of Lake Erie:Cleve.jpg

What a week (or so) it’s been. After our colds had ceased enough for us to move on from my sister Dyann’s pasture southeast of Cleveland, we headed up the shore of Lake Erie toward Niagara Falls.

But first we stopped at Kirtland, Ohio, just a few miles from Dy’s to tour the Kirtland Temple. Interesting, how we keep crossing the path of the Mormon pioneers. Kirtland was the Latter Day Saints’ headquarters from 1831 to 1838. We sat in the third-floor meeting room of the temple they built, light and airy thanks to large windows and a high ceiling, where Joseph Smith conferred with other Saints and they all prayed for guidance. The temple now belongs to the Reformed LDS, which according to our well-informed guide is one of 70-some branches of LDS (in addition to the branch based in Salt Lake City (she said there were around 400 LDS sects in earlier times). Gentiles are encouraged to enter this temple, but not to take photos inside it: temple.jpg

Around 3 p.m., we crossed the Peace Bridge into Ontario, Canada, at Buffalo, NY, then parked on the street. Several blocks of the city of Niagara Falls that you have to go through to arrive at the parkway along the river where the views of the falls begin is a gigantic "amusement park" (the worst of Las Vegas and Disneyland rolled into one), but once you get through that, you overlook a truly amazing natural wonder.

Like the Grand Canyon, no photograph can do it justice. As you stand on above the cliff that descends to the river, your entire visual field and aural space are filled by the cascade of the American Falls; about a mile to your right is the Horseshoe Falls, largely obscured by its own mists. As you walk along the crowded sidewalk above the river toward the Horseshoe Falls, the afternoon sun forms rainbows in the mist behind you, arching above boats ferrying hundreds of tourists clad in blue raingear toward the falls. You hear dozens of languages being spoken; sightseers come from Japan, India, Europe. They ask you to take their photos with the falls behind them, and you oblige, smiling all the while. You revel in the negative ions cast into the air by the incredible rush of millions of cubic feet of water falling hundreds of feet every second. The sun shines, life is good, nature is awesome and it's exciting to be part of it all.

We camped that night at the Brant Conservation Area near Brantford, Ontario, and walked the next morning through the native short-grass prairie being restored there (a young botonist we met as we checked into camp told us about it). Each Ontario watershed has its own conservation authority. Many of the conservation areas serve as campgrounds, which charge about $40! per night (but unlike public parks in the U.S., they are not tax supported). The following day— Thanksgiving Day in Canada—we moved on to the Warwick Conservation Area, near where my father was born.

Coincidentally, the night before, Ancestry.com had notified me of discovery of my paternal grandmother’s immigration form. Violet May Dupee, I learned, was born at Uttoxeter—now a crossroad a few miles from where we camped. Her dad, John Ira, was the postmaster at Uttoxeter till 1903.
Uttoxeter.jpg

After several hours in the Lambton Room at the county library, we had a list of a few area cemeteries where my Richardson, Dupee, Hoskin, Ladell and Lambert ancestors are buried. My great grandfather John Ira Dupee was born at Oil Springs, Ontario, which occasioned a visit to the local museum. Oil Springs, it turns out, is the site of the first commercial development of petroleum in North America—and the world. The fields there are still producing at the same levels they were 150 years ago! We boondocked that night surrounded by squeals and squeeks of metal-on-metal pump contraptions and the scent of "sour" (sulphur-bearing) oil. oilwell.jpg
Yet another fascinating and unlooked-for experience on our voyage!

 

Saturday, October 9, 2010

A word or two from Gary

Herewith, a note from Gary to a friend from eons ago, a fellow-traveler on his hippie bus, "The Great Turtle Express." We are hoping to make contact with him in person near Boston, should we ever get there. BTW, Dawn is Gary's daughter, who lives in eastern Washington. D.

As is said, the best laid plans oft gang aglee…. We made it to Cleveland, then stalled for a week due to terrible colds and bad weather. Our pace, when moving is about 200 miles a day, subject to further “delays” when something interests us—like touring Frank Lloyd Wright homes in Oak Park and gathering tall-grass prairie seed with our botanist friends in central Illinois. Bob Moseley, who lived with us for awhile in Boise a decade or so ago, is now The Nature Conservancy’s point man in Illinois.

This trip is a bit like the Great Turtle’s trek in reverse—in so many ways! We never quite know what’s coming up. The only real obligation we have is to be in Royal Oak, Michigan, on Saturday, Oct. 16 to celebrate my Aunt Ruth’s 90th birthday (which actually is on the 21st), along with Dawn’s 50th! (the 7th) and my 70th (the 15th)—kind of a mini family reunion, which I instigated.

By the time our colds cleared yesterday, it looked like getting to my sister Janet’s place in Durham, NH, then back to Detroit by the 16th would be too much of a push for our wandering style. So, we find ourselves at the Brant Conservation Area near Brantford, Ontario, Canada, on our way to Warwick, Ontario, where my father was born in 1920. I’ve been doing a bit of family genealogy, and it’s been difficult to trace my paternal lineage very far back. Much of it for the past couple centuries appears to be in the Lambson County area.

My father’s mother was French Canadian. Her roots are very hard to trace, but may provide an excuse for a trip to Quebec. So, we may make it further east after Oct. 16. Diane just learned that her Nov. obligation back in Boise has been pushed back nine days. We may also explore the Travers City, Michigan, area next week, where my mother’s folks lived for about a century.

Monday, October 4, 2010

Cleveland, Colds and a Clambake

Guess what?! Writing and traveling are not nearly as simpatico as I thought they'd be. It took me about three weeks to put up a post, and that was only because we've been grounded for a few days here near Cleveland due to colds (me first, now Gary). Trip has had its ups and downs, but mainly has been wonderful, especially seeing old friends and learning about those who came before us, be they the Amana Colonies Lutherans, the Mormon pioneers or the plants and fishes that lived in Wyoming millenia ago.
I find that traveling requires always being in the present moment, whether you're the navigator (me) or the driver (Gary). I've used my camera as my notebook, though, to capture at least some of these moments, so sometime when the mood takes me I'll be able to recall what happened and where (I hope!). I must say that one mile of corn and soybeans and rainclouds looks much like another, however, especially when they go on for some 500 miles. But you never know what's around the next bend: a plowing contest in Big Rock, Ill., or the Chicago Civic Symphony. Both captured our fancy.
We've stayed true to our mission as "leaf peepers" by noting the gradual addition of color as we progressed east; just outside of Cleveland, the reds became striking, although rare. Now we're on the other side of Cleveland, at Gary's sister's, parked in her horse pasture and surrounded by all kinds of trees giving their all to paint fall for us. As soon as Gary recovers, we'll head farther northeast toward New Hampshire, where the reds will truly take over, I'm told.
Yesterday I experienced my first-ever clambake, a first-rate affair prepared by a professional chef and caterer, friends of my sister-in-law, at their home half an hour from here. The first course - steamed mussels in a garlic/tomato/wine sauce and clam chowder - was divine; the bag of 18 big steamed clams accompanied by a half-chicken were slightly overdone but yummy; the corn (forgotten by someone in the kitchen until the end) was fresh and sweet but really overcooked; and all the rest - yams and white spuds, melted butter, coleslaw and dips - as good as could be. About 50 people consumed this bounty, washed down with Bud Light, Heiniken or BYO wine. Everyone stood around bonfires or the various serving areas, mingled, talked, ate and generally had a good time, even though it was overcast and about 56 degrees. (I was told that is perfect clambake weather.) The chef and his 'bake' are in the photo below.
Today's Lessons: Be sure to bring cough syrup, lozenges and other cold medications, and ALWAYS accept an invitation to a clambake!

Saturday, October 2, 2010

Random Road Reflections

Near Cleveland, Oct. 2, 2010

In writing this, I'm reminded of Natalie Goldberg's advice to write "shitty first drafts" to get the dross out of your system so the gold can shine through. She wrote that years before this age of tweets and posts, however. Now people seem to consider dross good, as long as it connects them to someone. So in the spirit of "dross is good," I'll proceed with this SFD.

In preparing for this trip, Gary downloaded some audiobooks and a Robin Williams movie, "RV." We finally got around to watching "RV" a couple of nights ago, and it's a stitch, especially if you're an RVer. I won't go into all the slapstick jokes and plot angles, but one thing it shares with real life is never knowing what will happen next...with the rig or with human beings involved with it.

Today's adventure: brown water gushing from our tap this morning. It rained last night, revealing there's a leak somewhere in the well we're hosed into. Gary had to flush out our whole water system (especially the hot-water tank), then find enough hose to connect us to the main house 100 yards away. Time elapsed: 1 hour. We hope boiling killed any bugs that might have been in our coffee water. Other surprises we've had include a leaking steering fluid pump (have you ever tried steering a 5-ton rig manually? Gary has!),  and s-l-o-w Internet connections that drag out my editing time, even when we have wi-fi (getting "four bars" really MEANS something to me, now).

Lesson: Be adaptable and don't expect to control your life in an RV.