The self-organized and guided road trip of a lifetime was enabled by hurricane Ian which canceled our trip to Florida. We were looking forward to vegging on the beach, reading, swatting the occasional fly, and splashing in the ocean in hopes that no shark or sting ray found us interesting enough to take a bite or a stab.
We decided instead to see that part of
America which gave us the imagined and real freedoms we think we have today –
New England. What better way to celebrate our country than visit the Freedom
Trail in Boston, MA?
To accomplish this, hubby chose a road
route that will force him to drive almost 1,700 miles across twelve states on
our way to New England’s states, Connecticut, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, New
Hampshire, Maine, and Vermont.
New
England is made up of six states: Connecticut, Rhode Island, Massachusetts, New Hampshire, Maine, and Vermont.
The New England region is in the upper northeast corner of the lower 48 United
States, and bordered by New York, Canada, and the Atlantic Ocean.
After
crossing through Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, Delaware, New Jersey, and New York, the
first stop was in New Haven, Connecticut. It was a drizzly rain kind of day,
cold for us southerners, but a regular fall day for New England.
The
roads and streets wore a patina of old mixed with litter and fallen leaves. We
found the beach, bleary, with a carpet of broken seashells gently bathed by the
greenish dark waters of the Atlantic. A few sea gulls were resting on the dark
sand. There was no match here for the beautiful white sands on the western
Florida’s beaches. A lone tree was dripping rain onto a bench looking over the bay.
We were
hungry so we made our way to a beach shack where delicious smells were wafting in
the salty air. But the outdoor seating drove us away when it started to rain in
earnest. So, we decided to go downtown and find a more suitable place where we
could take shelter inside from the rain and soggy cold.
We found a tiny building, Louis Lunch, lit up and welcoming like a fairy tale ginger house in the urban grey forest. The restaurant claimed to be the first place in America that invented hamburgers in 1895, and this hamburger was served on toast.
A sign inside
stated, I paraphrase, this is not fast food, we serve our burgers the way we make
them. A tall guy behind the counter wearing a mask took our order. He was curt
and nobody could think of him as the owner of a sociable temperament.
As we
learned every day, New Englanders were not friendly and welcoming even when
spoken to. When talking, they always looked down or sideways, never in the
interlocutor’s eyes. When we got to coastal Maine, it was night and day, people
were friendly and welcoming.
We sat down
inside Luis Lunch in the church pews which were now serving as chairs and ate
our interesting burgers and potato salad served in Styrofoam cups. I thought
New Englanders were all about saving the environment as the signs told us so in
all six states.
A quick stroll on the Yale campus was disappointing and we headed next morning to Hartford, CT, in a drizzly rain – to the homes of Mark Twain and Harriet B. Stowe. Mark Twain was my favorite author growing up. His characters were hilarious even in Romanian translation which I am sure, it was no easy feat to interpret correctly.
On the
road to Mystic, CT, we stopped in East Haddam and Lyme, CT, where we found the retirement
home of actor William H. Gillette (1853-1937), his rock “castle,” a 122-acre
estate that sits on top of a hill known as the Seven Sisters, on the banks of
the Connecticut River.
This estate, in his heyday, had its own miniature 3-mile railroad which stopped to pick up private visitors to the castle at his own Grand Central Station and other locations along the way. A short portion of the track and the locomotive stored in the museum, are the only remnants of Gillette’s private railway.
Gillette’s twenty-four room mansion resembled a medieval castle and was built in 1914. It looks like a ruin from the exterior, but it is just weathered stone. William Gillette was an actor, manager, playwright, and railroad enthusiast born in Hartford, CT. He is best remembered for his portrayal of Sherlock Homes on stage in both America and Europe, wearing the legendary hat and pipe. He also played in a 1916 silent film which was considered lost until it was rediscovered in 2014.
Heavy
rain had followed us from Virginia to New York, but in Connecticut it was misty
and drizzly, mixed with heavy rain that did not last long. It reminded me of
the ten-day rain we experienced in Paris years ago – everything was damp and so
cold.
My husband joked that he would stop if he found the world’s largest ball of twine. Instead, we stopped for a huge dinosaur resplendent with a witch’s hat. It was a fascinating trading post for fossils, crystals, and minerals. The associate was very talkative and knowledgeable – he was from Montana and had just moved to Connecticut.
Mystic is a lovely village with no independent government, located in Groton and Stonington, CT, on the Mystic River which flows into Fishers Island Sound and by extension Long Island Sound and the Atlantic Ocean. In its seaport, more than 600 ships were built over 135 years, starting in 1784. Mystic is home to the Mystic Seaport, one of the largest maritime museums in the U.S., preserving many sailing ships and the whaler Charles W. Morgan. In the center of the village there is a drawbridge that is activated like an elevator, with counterweights – it is called the Mystic River Bascule Bridge.
Mystic Pizza is the location where the 1988 movie by the same name was filmed. It is a quaint and beautiful village populated by 4,205 die-hard New Englanders. The name Mystic is derived from the Pequot term “missi-tuk,” describing a large river whose waters are driven into waves by tides or wind.
Next stop was Newport, Rhode Island. Early in the morning, we walked to the 3.5-mile Cliff Walk, wrapping around the many Gilded Age mansions overlooking the Narragansett Bay, oceanic waters breaking furiously into a white foam over the black cliffs with unimaginable power.
Newport
is a seaside city on Aquidneck Island in Newport County, Rhode Island. Like
most New England locations, place names were given in Native American to honor
the tribes who had inhabited the geographic area. The sad thing is that nobody
can pronounce the names.
Located 74 miles south of Boston, Newport is known as New England’s summer resort for the rich and famous and for its sailing history.
Among the many beautiful seaside mansions, some of which were donated to the Salve Regina University campus, the most notable was the Vanderbilt Mansion Museum, The Breakers, a classic Italian palazzo, which is open to the public and a major attraction for tourists arriving in huge Pullman buses. It has entertained royalty, presidents, and the famous over many decades of its original history.
Built in 1893-1895, to replace a smaller wooden structure destroyed by fire, The Breakers was built in Italian Renaissance style with opulent 50 ft. atrium ceiling, an entire acre of the 13-acre property with 70 rooms, including 48 bedrooms for family, guests, and staff, with 27 fireplaces and electricity, a novelty for the Gilded Age, and gas lighting.
Cornelius Vanderbilt II, one of the richest millionaires of his time, and his wife Alice chose such a structure of steel, brick, and limestone with boilers underground to prevent another potential fire. In the Vanderbilts’ summer home, the opulence is evident in the rich interior marble, gold leafing, platinum leafing, tapestries, fireplaces, music room, coffered ceilings, draperies, Gilded Age furniture, chandeliers of Baccarat crystal, mosaics, and the massive tub carved out of one block of marble for Cornelius. Nobody anticipated that the servants had to fill and empty the tub four times each time before the water would be warm enough for Cornelius to bathe in.
Spending money lavishly, faster than it could be replaced, the Vanderbilts blew through the original fortune and Countess Szechenyi, the heir, was forced in 1948 to accept $1 and coverage of the operating expenses by the Preservation Society of Newport County, to offer tours of the first floor to the public. According to the archives, the mansion and property were purchased in 1972 by the Preservation Society from the heirs for $399,000. In 1994, it became a National Historic Landmark. The architect Richard Morris Hunt had created a Gilded Age jewel of opulence and beauty which ordinary people can now visit and admire.
TO BE CONTINUED
Interesting travelogue! Story and photos are very interesting. I think that large ball of twine is in my home state of Kansas, you'll have to come visit Kansas sometime!
ReplyDeleteGreat touristic experience....America is the best country on the globe and has kept its legacy and opulence without making excuses for the Rich and Famous; From California to New England and from Texas to Seattle the landmark of a great civilization is there to stay for ever and ever! Let Freedom Ring!
ReplyDeleteWhat a fantastic trip! Thanks for sharing your road saga & photos!
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