Photo of the day

As the sun sinks in the Connecticut sky, Roni videotapes the living 9/11 memorial at Sherwood Island State Park. Connecticut was deeply affected by the terrorist attacks on New York City in 2001, and the memorial is dedicated to the people from the state who died that day. The park was a command base for relief efforts. Photo by Glenn.


June 27, 2007
[Day 1] << Go to >> [Day 3]

We haven't even been on vacation a day and already we have a traffic ticket. Actually, this is the first of several toll tickets we collected for the New Jersey Turnpike as we headed north on I-95. Photo by Roni.


This was our first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty, taken from the parking lot in Liberty Park in New Jersey. Note the haze. Photo by Glenn.


The inside of the ferry terminal at Liberty Park is an interesting place for photos. The light plays off the walls and brickwork in subtle ways. Tens of thousands of immigrants have passed through this place on their way to a new life in America. Photo by Glenn.


The Central Railroad of New Jersey depot has been well preserved. It's a nice place to wait for the ferry boat to see the Statue of Liberty. Photo by Glenn.


As you can see, it wasn't the best day for breathtaking photos of the New York skyline. The Empire State Building is all but obliterated in the haze. This was taken at 10 a.m. from the New Jersey shore while waiting for our ferry to see the Statue of Liberty. Photo by Glenn.


On board the ferry, our first stop is Ellis Island. We had the option of getting off the boat for a look around, but chose not to because we wanted to tour the statue then get back on the road. Photo by Glenn.


Ben and Roni look around from our seats on the upper deck of the ferry boat Miss Gateway. Photo by Glenn.


There she is, Lady Liberty. What more can you say? It's as stirring a sight for a first-time tourist as it has been for generations of immigrants. Photo by Glenn.


The best thing about this shot is that we can actually see the statue. There wasn't as much haze by the time we reached Liberty Island at 11 a.m. Being closer to it also helped. Smile, Ben, you're on vacation! Photo by Glenn.


This is the statue's original torch, which is now on permanent display in the museum located in the pedestal. The torch was replaced when the statue was refurbished in 1984. Sadly, visitors can no longer walk up to the torch or the crown. Photo by Glenn.


Roni looks at a display of postcards that include the famous statue, some dating to its late-19th century roots. Photo by Glenn.


Here's something you don't often think about concerning the Statue of Liberty. The statue is made of copper, which is undergoing a nonstop chemical reaction with the air. The blue-green streaks one sees all over the statue's stone pedestal are caused by the corroding metal. Photo by Glenn.


When you are on Liberty Island it is difficult to take a closeup portrait of someone and get the entire statue in the frame, too... Photo by Glenn.


...So here is how you have to do it. Dad, you're making a spectacle of yourself. Photo by Ben.


On the return trip to Liberty Park the haze has lifted enough that we can now see Manhattan. It's 1:40 p.m. Photo by Glenn.


In case you were curious, this is the Ford Taurus we received from the rental company as compensation for the two-hour delay at the airport. The problem with "upgrading" us to a larger car was that it eats more fuel. We're at the Vince Lombardi travel plaza in New Jersey. Photo by Glenn.


At 7 p.m. we are are watching the sun set at Sherwood Island State Park in Connecticut. Traffic has been so bad that we decided to get off the road and look for the park's living 9/11 memorial. Photo by Glenn.


The beach at Sherwood Island State Park is strewn with shells. Photo by Glenn.


Here's a closer look at the seashells. They make a delightful crunching sound under foot. Photo by Glenn.


How many geese constitutes a gaggle? It looks like we've got one, whatever the number. This is but a small sample of the very large flock hanging out at the shoreline. Photo by Roni.


What a way to end a long day. It's 11 p.m., and instead of relaxing in our hotel room in Mystic, Conn., we are milling about outside in the parking lot as the fire department responds to a false alarm. Photo by Glenn.

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Looking for liberty

Wednesday, June 27 (Day 2) — After the trials and tribulations that ended the first day of our trip, we were looking forward to today being much more relaxed. Not only would we not have to deal with the tight regimen of air travel and challenges associated with finding a hotel room in an unfamiliar large city, but we would hopefully have time to rest up a bit while enjoying the sights we had come to see. That was the plan, at least.

What happened in reality was that a few days prior to the start of our trip, Roni decided that our plan to see all of New York City in a single day was probably just a bit too ambitious. If we hoped to see the Statue of Liberty, we would do better to stop there on our way toward New England rather than try to piggyback a visit on with a bus tour of the city when we are there next on July 3. So we agreed to do the statue today. Because you must take a ferry out to Liberty Island and there is only so much room available if you want to tour the statue once you're on the island, you have to reserve a block of time in which to make your visit by way of a "time pass." Roni ordered our tickets online on Sunday, at a price of $13.25 per person including the $1.75 handling fee, for the 10:30 to 1:30 slot. The tickets were placed at will-call on the condition that we arrive an hour before our scheduled ferry departure. Roni thought that meant we had to be at the ferry terminal by 9 a.m. Doing the math, that meant we would have to leave our hotel in Philadelphia no later than 7 a.m. to travel the estimated 90 miles to the New Jersey ferry terminal. That assumed the directions provided by Google Maps were accurate and that we didn't get bogged down in traffic on one of the busiest freeways heading into the largest city in the nation.

So just like that, what was supposed to be a "liesurely" drive from Philadelphia to Mystic, Connecticut, became another race against the clock. As a result, I got very little sleep for the second night in a row, worried that we would oversleep and miss our 7 a.m. deadline for being on the road. I was up well before six, and we left our hotel right on time. We thought we'd wait on breakfast until we got closer to the ferry terminal. Mistake No. 1.

We hopped on to northbound I-95, where I hoped to stay as long as possible. That would be until traffic became unbearably congested or we were forced onto toll roads, of which there are too many on the East Coast. The humidity was back this morning and the temperature climbed as we traveled onward. Good thing the air conditioner in the Taurus is working at its chilly best. The drive gave me time to experiment a bit with the car's controls. For instance, last night it took me forever to figure out where the knob for the headlights was located. I later considered that I had never found the emergency brake nor was I sure I wasn't driving with it engaged. Once I finally discovered the brake lever off to the lefthand side of the floor, I was relieved to learn that it was off. When it comes to the automatic transmission, I still don't know what the difference is between a plain old "D" and "D" with a white box around it. They are side-by-side on the steering column and I've been using the white-boxed one for all my driving. Is that hurting my fuel economy? I've no clue. But I'm only getting 24.9 miles to the gallon, which is a far cry from my Toyota Corolla back home. I'll investigate this on the Internet when I next get the chance. Aside from all that, the Taurus is a big, muscular machine. I'm not comfortable driving it yet, especially on the narrow roads they have in these parts. Everywhere I go I feel like I'm in the way of the locals, who want to run me over if I go the speed limit. I'd probably want to run me over, too. Let's see... slow moving car with Georgia plates and a young family with cameras inside. If that doesn't just scream tourists then I don't know what does. We have started a running joke about us not being from California at all, but Georgia. "We're on our way from Atlanta to see them NASCAR drivers at New Hampshire. Hoo-wee!" (We know its a cheap stereotype, but it's cut the tension through some frustrating moments while we've been lost on the journey.)

I-95 turned out not to be too bad for the first 80 miles or so. We listened to a couple of local radio talk stations before flipping around the dial to find some old classics from the sixties and seventies. How appropriate that we heard "I Say A Little Prayer" as we're praying that we'll make it to Liberty Island State Park on time. I try to get Ben interested in the scenery, to get into the excitement of visiting a state where he's never been before, but he is still catching up on his sleep and spends most of the trip out like a light on the back seat.

We pass the exit for Trenton, N.J., and I'm feeling good that we're making good time staying on a free highway. Then we start seeing the signs for the dreaded New Jersey Turnpike. If you stay on I-95 there's no way around it. We took our toll ticket and figured we'd just go with the flow. New Jersey is proud of its turnpike system. I guess they don't mind being nickeled and dimed every time they drive a few miles. It's not like out west where we have diamond lanes to speed up the commutes of carpoolers but there is still free freeway access for all. Here, everyone pays. I also had to get used to the way they split up their lanes on the turnpike. At one point the road literally divides, with trucks forced to go one side and cars given the option of traveling with the trucks or zipping along in an autos-only group of lanes. Had I known what I was doing I would have opted to ride with the cars, but naturally I got muddled up with the trucks. As we neared our destination and the road began curving to the east, I found myself rubbernecking for my first-ever view of New York City. As we came over the crest of a bridge I finally saw it, shrouded in haze. I tried to get Ben's attention. "Hey! There's New York!" Alas, he was fast asleep, missing the moment. We got off at Exit 14B in Jersey City and paid the $3.75 that was required. Somehow the 90-mile trip to get to the park wound up at more like 120 miles. And it was closer to 9:30 a.m. We were running late.

We found Liberty Park and paid our $5 admission to the big parking lot at the end of a cobblestone street. Roni's idea was that we would fare better seeing the statue from the New Jersey side instead of the New York side, where it was assumed the crowds would be much larger. Judging from the sparse number of cars in the parking lot, she was right. We hustled on up to the ferry terminal office, located in the restored Central Railroad of New Jersey depot, where she picked up our tickets, and then headed outside to wait for the next ferry. We had just missed one and would have to wait another half hour. We killed time by walking along the docks and checking out what once had been a busy connection point for trains shuttling immigrants to America. We could see the Statue of Liberty in the distance, but for all the haze we could barely make out New York City, even though it was just on the opposite shore.

We hadn't eaten anything yet. Roni and Ben got some snacks from a push cart, but I held off thinking that once we were finished with the statue tour we'd go find a proper meal. Mistake No. 2. One of my goals this vacation is to not load up on junk food, which is too easy to do, and gain back the 35 pounds I've lost since January 2006. When the ferry began boarding we were ushered into a security tent where they made us put all our bags and metal objects into trays for the X-ray machine. They also made us remove our belts, which isn't good when your shorts are two sizes too big on you, as they are in my case. Once on board the ferry boat Miss Gateway, we made our way to the top deck and sat on wood benches to observe the view from the harbor.

First stop was Ellis Island, which we decided not to see because it would take longer than we wanted to stay. Any time spent there would mean less for Lady Liberty if we wanted to make it to Mystic before dark. After a few minutes the boat continued on to Liberty Island, giving us our first up-close view of the famous statue. I must say that this was an excellent way to break the ice on our trip, seeing a famous landmark on the very first day despite our fatigue. We got off the boat and quickly made our way to the line for the statue tour, still worried we had already missed our tour time. As it turns out, the tickets we had allow a tour of the statue any time from 10:30 a.m. up to 1:30 p.m. It was only a few minutes after 11 o'clock, so there was still plenty of time to go inside the statue.

We waited in line inside another tent located behind the souvenir shop. A guard stood at the front of the line, controlling access to a door. I heard recorded voices in the next room and figured it must be a video presentation on the statue. Wrong. Turns out it was another security screening, only this one was much more strict than the first. Not only were we required to give up bags and remove belts, but we had to stand inside a machine that hits you with jets of air to make sure you aren't packing weapons or somesuch. You wait for the person in front of you to clear the machine, then a little green light goes on and you proceed inside. A computer voice like something out of the movie "Aliens" says "Air puffers on," and then you get hit with the air. All this while trying to hold up your beltless pants.

Once through security you head into the base of the statue, where the flame from the original torch is on display, all yellow-orange stained glass. Through a door there are displays on the construction of the statue as well as a collage of postcards in which the statue has appeared. They no longer allow visitors into the torch, nor the crown of the statue's head, but you can walk up the 156 stairs to the top of the pedestal. Roni took the elevator while Ben and I took the stairs. At the top there is a door to a narrow walkway on the outside where dozens of people line the railing for photos. It was too bad the weather wasn't nicer because there would have been a splendid view of New York City. The haze was dissipating somewhat, but still not enough for our liking.

We finished up the tour inside and returned to the island where there is a large walkway around the statue's front. I shot so many photos of the statue that I finally put away the camera. Been there, done that. Besides, I was so hungry and hot that I was starting to get spacey. I needed to eat. We stopped for a few souvenirs in the tent before heading back to the line for the ferry. It was about 1:15 p.m. When we saw the huge line I thought it might be 5 o'clock before we got off the island, but then we realized that the long line was for the New York ferry; our line for the Miss New Jersey was next to nothing.

We made it back to the car and were ready to get back on the road. Our original plan had been to continue into Long Island and find Roni's childhood home in Islip. From there, we would take another ferry to Mystic, Conn. But it was so late in the day already and we had a lot of driving left to do. We bagged the Long Island idea in favor of taking I-95 through New York City to Connecticut, assuming it would be faster than waiting for another boat. Mistake No. 3. Naturally I made a wrong turn getting onto the New Jersey Turnpike, and even though I got off at virtually the same exit I had to fork over 45 cents. The second attempt was successful, and soon we were heading north again.

We stopped at the Vince Lombardi travel plaza for lunch. The turnpikes have lots of service plazas where you can buy gas and food and sundries such as souvenirs and travel items. The reason is to save motorists from exiting the turnpike to find such things along the way, which would require paying multiple tolls and taking out additional fare tickets. The prices on most of what we saw seemed reasonable, so we got some barbecue sandwiches for us while Ben had Burger King. There was a clever T-shirt that I almost bought but didn't. On one side it had the ugly green logo of the New Jersey Turnpike Authority, and on the back was printed, "Where's the exit?"

We picked the worst possible time to hit New York City: 4 p.m., right at the start of rush hour with a thunderstorm moving in and blackouts that were affecting parts of Manhattan and another borough. The traffic heading for the George Washington Bridge was awful. It allowed plenty of time to see the view, but the view was nothing but haze and grungry buildings and lots of cars. (Note to self: Avoid driving in New York when we return.)

Traffic wasn't much better in Connecticut. We slogged our way along I-95 while listening to weather reports on the radio of flooding caused by a series of nearby thunderstorms. We were all hot and thirsty, so we stopped at a service plaza outside of Stamford to buy drinks. We had less than 100 miles to Mystic, but at the rate we were going it would be midnight before we got there. We shuffled along some more until we reached Westport and saw a sign for the Living 9/11 Memorial and decided our time would be better spent seeing things other than the bumpers of weary commuters.

We followed the signs to Sherwood Island State Park, which only later did I learn is Connecticut's oldest park, founded in 1914. It is 234 acres that faces the Long Island Sound. The Living 9/11 Memorial is located near the shoreline, on a grassy knoll that overlooks the sound. There was what appeared to be a sailboat regatta bobbing along the waves when we arrived about 6:30. Ben discovered the shell-strewn beach and was quickly off to explore it. Roni and I checked out the memorial, which was erected in 2002 to remember Connecticut residents who died in the World Trade Center attacks. According to a plaque at the site, smoke from the collapsed towers was visible from the memorial site, which was used as a base of operations for relief efforts.

The sun was heading down and we wanted to get back on the road, hoping we could still reach Mystic before dark. It took a bit to retrieve Ben, who had wandered far down the beach in search of bird feathers and shells. I left the camera with Roni and jogged out to reel him in.

Once back on the interstate, traffic was finally flowing. We didn't make Mystic before dark, but we did arrive around 9:30 p.m. and checked into Room 123 of the Best Western Sovereign Hotel. The clerk at check-in told us we'd missed just about all the places we might get a real dinner, except for the Ground Round which was located adjacent to the hotel. We elected to leave our things in the car and go grab dinner first. The food was good if not spectacular.

By the time we'd finished eating, it was close to 10:30 p.m. We unloaded our gear and were about to get Ben off to bed despite his protests that back home it was only 7:30. I pulled out the laptop and started downloading the first photos from our trip to the computer, getting ready to start the daily travelogue entry — or rather yesterday's entry, for I am already a day behind. Suddenly there was a noise out in the hallway. I went to the door to investigate. "Is that a fire alarm?" I asked out loud. Apparently I wasn't the only one wondering, because there were a couple of people in other rooms with their heads poked out the door. Indeed, it was a fire alarm. And I thought I smelled smoke.

So we did what you're supposed to do in a fire: we evacuated. I put my shoes and socks back on, gathered my ID off the table, scooped the camera and camcorder back into their bag, pulled the plug from the laptop and took the whole mess with me, with Roni and Ben close behind. Of course we'd left all our clothes in the room, but at least the most expensive stuff would be safe when the flames turned our hotel into ashes. We congregated outside in the parking lot with dozens of other displaced guests and waited anxiously as the police and fire departments arrived. What a story this would be for the folks back home: Two days on vacation and we'd been screwed over by our rental car company on day one and watched our hotel burn down on day two.

But the flames never came. Roni, always the journalist, decided to go investigate and learned that it was a false alarm. Apparently this happens a lot, the hotel folks tell her. Nothing like a little excitement at the end of a long day. We never hear any sort of official announcement that the coast was clear, but eventually folks start wandering back to their rooms and we do the same. The fire drill has cost me almost an hour and I'm ticked because I really planned to use tonight to catch up on the travel journal. Sigh. Looks like I'll be in catch-up mode tomorrow as well.

This page was last updated on Sunday, July 29, 2007 at 00:23 hrs.

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