Saturday, March 21, 2009
Next half
On Sunday morning our host cooked up the cheese blintzes we had brought from Greenpoint and we ate them with sour cream and maple syrup, yum! He also cooked up some eggs, so we were well nourished for our morning ride down to Cold Spring. Before taking off though, we spent a few minutes tossing the disc around, which is something I really need to get into the habit of doing.
The ride down 9D was not bad. At first Brandy was apprehensive about the 55 mph traffic coming on our asses with little to no shoulder. She does not have a lot of bike experience, except in the city or rural roads, but after a bit we were able to relax some since the traffic volumes weren't high enough to warrant concern. It was a scenic ride down the valley and much shorter than expected. Turns out we were staying about half the way between Beacon and Cold Spring and our expected 6 mi ride turned into 3, downhill the whole way for added convenience.
Cold Spring is a small town in the forest on the river. It's smaller, and more affluent than Beacon. The scene is less artsy fartsy, more oriented towards antiques. There were some interesting stores, but after two I was over it. We tried to find a coffee shop where I could get some work done. Unfortunately that was not to be. We found what looked to be hopeful, a little bakery with coffee and nice tables outside, but after ordering a coffee it was discovered that there was no bathroom and the coffee was Seattle's *ahem Best. We stayed long enough to choke down the coffee water and we headed down to the river.
They have a wonderful plaza with benches sticking out into the river. There is a huge stone mount across the river and the river also makes a large turn here, so there is a nice view of the cliffs as well as West Point.
From there we went to bar right next to the tracks in the old depot with plentiful outdoor seating. I got a bit of work done here before we decided to walk around in the woods for awhile before meeting our host for dinner.
There is a nice trail around the south edge of town that passes along a swamp and then a babbling brook in the forest. The trail goes through a forested glen that feels very isolated, but is right next to the town. All throughout it are the foundations and wall remnants of some old factories and the area is strewn with bricks. At the head of the glen, the creek passes through an old dam, right underneath the 9D bridge. After the dam, the creek crashes through a narrow gorge, about 10-15 feet deep. It was a very relaxing place to stop and rest. It was a bit unnerving how the creek sprayed out through the spaces between the old blocks in the dam, but we laid on the rocks beneath nonetheless.
There was a large amount of beer cans and other trash marring the beauty, so we filled up a large garbage bag, which had conveniently been tossed as well, and carried it into town.
Dinner was at a pricey French restaurant, which was fairly decent, although they overcooked my "medium-rare" ribeye.
We ended the night pretty early since we were all leaving at 7 the next morning, capping it off watching some TV show about this chemistry teacher who decided to start making meth after he finds out he's dying, which was fairly entertaining.
The ride down 9D was not bad. At first Brandy was apprehensive about the 55 mph traffic coming on our asses with little to no shoulder. She does not have a lot of bike experience, except in the city or rural roads, but after a bit we were able to relax some since the traffic volumes weren't high enough to warrant concern. It was a scenic ride down the valley and much shorter than expected. Turns out we were staying about half the way between Beacon and Cold Spring and our expected 6 mi ride turned into 3, downhill the whole way for added convenience.
Cold Spring is a small town in the forest on the river. It's smaller, and more affluent than Beacon. The scene is less artsy fartsy, more oriented towards antiques. There were some interesting stores, but after two I was over it. We tried to find a coffee shop where I could get some work done. Unfortunately that was not to be. We found what looked to be hopeful, a little bakery with coffee and nice tables outside, but after ordering a coffee it was discovered that there was no bathroom and the coffee was Seattle's *ahem Best. We stayed long enough to choke down the coffee water and we headed down to the river.
They have a wonderful plaza with benches sticking out into the river. There is a huge stone mount across the river and the river also makes a large turn here, so there is a nice view of the cliffs as well as West Point.
From there we went to bar right next to the tracks in the old depot with plentiful outdoor seating. I got a bit of work done here before we decided to walk around in the woods for awhile before meeting our host for dinner.
There is a nice trail around the south edge of town that passes along a swamp and then a babbling brook in the forest. The trail goes through a forested glen that feels very isolated, but is right next to the town. All throughout it are the foundations and wall remnants of some old factories and the area is strewn with bricks. At the head of the glen, the creek passes through an old dam, right underneath the 9D bridge. After the dam, the creek crashes through a narrow gorge, about 10-15 feet deep. It was a very relaxing place to stop and rest. It was a bit unnerving how the creek sprayed out through the spaces between the old blocks in the dam, but we laid on the rocks beneath nonetheless.
There was a large amount of beer cans and other trash marring the beauty, so we filled up a large garbage bag, which had conveniently been tossed as well, and carried it into town.
Dinner was at a pricey French restaurant, which was fairly decent, although they overcooked my "medium-rare" ribeye.
We ended the night pretty early since we were all leaving at 7 the next morning, capping it off watching some TV show about this chemistry teacher who decided to start making meth after he finds out he's dying, which was fairly entertaining.
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Hudson Valley
Happiness abounds now as I am currently on Spring Break. No, I am not sitting on a beach someplace sipping piña coladas, nor am I hitchhiking across some remote nation; rather, I am sitting in my office eating take out Italian food on my lunch break. I surely blew my load already this semester when I took off half a week to travel to Belize on $180 tickets, and now I must work work work.
This did not stop me though from taking a little advantage of the break. Brandy took off work on Monday and we took a little trip upstate. We caught the Metro North train on Saturday to Beacon, which is in the Hudson River Valley. Here we were picked up by our Couchsurfing host, who nervously asked in our first phone conversation whether we were law enforcement, and further, whether we were 420 friendly. Important questions surely for someone who smokes daily, but certainly not an issue for us. It is a shame that in our advanced country one must be worried that a house guest may see a stem or seed and condemn.
But I digress. He was a friendly, and quite talkative fellow originally from Yorktown, and he immediately took us off to a spectacular hike up Breakneck Ridge. The Hudson Valley is truly a special place, the likes of which I have not seen in my travels. One of the wider rivers I have seen, the Hudson travels more or less straight south through a deep valley girdled by ridges, cliffs, and mountains, in the typical rounded, leafy Appalachian style. There are numerous protrusions into the river that add to depth of the scenery.
Our climb was a steep and straight one up the side of the valley. There was plenty of scrambling and opportunities for scaling, and we were soon rewarded with spectacular views of the river, which was smooth as glass this day. This was also nice because it was in the 50s, and a wind might have made things a bit less enjoyable. At the top there was also a small swamp filled with cattails and other such vegetation, which seemed odd considering you could see a drop off just past this little depression.
After the climb, we made a loop through the woods and returned to the car starving and tired. Back at the apartment we cut up a cantaloupe and ate much of the kielbasa I had brought.
After a brief nap we headed into the town of Beacon. We strolled the ridiculously long Main Street, which was quite lively due to a combination of it being "Second Saturday," which is a monthly event where all of the many art galleries have showings; and that is was the day of the St. Patrick's Day pub crawl on the other end of Main Street. This event was filled with underagers completely wasted. It ended predictably with a brawl, which we managed to have passed just before its outbreak. No sooner had it begun when over a dozen cop cars flew down the street. They must have been itching for something to do because they swarmed like crazy to what sounded like a small fight. There was a group of guys in front of us and one said, in a mocking redneck cop accent, "It's time for us get back where we belong. Yup, back to Poughkeepsie." Word on the street the next day was that someone was tasered, although this was likely a different incident.
Other highlights include a glassblowing demonstration and a super-powered pogo stick, which I was able to handle well for awhile, but the thing eventually went out of control and I narrowly avoided landing on a parked car.
Dude had to head down to some crappy other town for a friend's birthday, so Brandy and I went to what I would consider to be one of the better coffee shops I've yet encountered in the NE. It is a very chill place with tons of natural light, couches, and space. Best of all, it is right across from a delicious cheesecake shop.
When the coffee shop tossed us out at 9, we headed back down the Main Street, which is about a mile long, in search of nightlife. There were only three places that were open, a dive bar overflowing with drunken tools, next door to a fancy-looking Italian restaurant with a bar, and a pretentious-looking wine bar on the far end of the street. Skipping the douchefest, we entered the Italian place briefly, but found that overflow from lamo pub had infiltrated and filled all of the bar seats, leaving only dining seats or standing, so we resigned ourselves to pretension. When we got to the wine bar, we found that we had misjudged and that it was not nearly as pretentious as we thought. In fact, it was quite as their name, "Chill" Wine Bar, implied - Quotes included. We drank delicious wine and relaxed there for the rest of the evening.
The next day we did some stuff.
This did not stop me though from taking a little advantage of the break. Brandy took off work on Monday and we took a little trip upstate. We caught the Metro North train on Saturday to Beacon, which is in the Hudson River Valley. Here we were picked up by our Couchsurfing host, who nervously asked in our first phone conversation whether we were law enforcement, and further, whether we were 420 friendly. Important questions surely for someone who smokes daily, but certainly not an issue for us. It is a shame that in our advanced country one must be worried that a house guest may see a stem or seed and condemn.
But I digress. He was a friendly, and quite talkative fellow originally from Yorktown, and he immediately took us off to a spectacular hike up Breakneck Ridge. The Hudson Valley is truly a special place, the likes of which I have not seen in my travels. One of the wider rivers I have seen, the Hudson travels more or less straight south through a deep valley girdled by ridges, cliffs, and mountains, in the typical rounded, leafy Appalachian style. There are numerous protrusions into the river that add to depth of the scenery.
Our climb was a steep and straight one up the side of the valley. There was plenty of scrambling and opportunities for scaling, and we were soon rewarded with spectacular views of the river, which was smooth as glass this day. This was also nice because it was in the 50s, and a wind might have made things a bit less enjoyable. At the top there was also a small swamp filled with cattails and other such vegetation, which seemed odd considering you could see a drop off just past this little depression.
After the climb, we made a loop through the woods and returned to the car starving and tired. Back at the apartment we cut up a cantaloupe and ate much of the kielbasa I had brought.
After a brief nap we headed into the town of Beacon. We strolled the ridiculously long Main Street, which was quite lively due to a combination of it being "Second Saturday," which is a monthly event where all of the many art galleries have showings; and that is was the day of the St. Patrick's Day pub crawl on the other end of Main Street. This event was filled with underagers completely wasted. It ended predictably with a brawl, which we managed to have passed just before its outbreak. No sooner had it begun when over a dozen cop cars flew down the street. They must have been itching for something to do because they swarmed like crazy to what sounded like a small fight. There was a group of guys in front of us and one said, in a mocking redneck cop accent, "It's time for us get back where we belong. Yup, back to Poughkeepsie." Word on the street the next day was that someone was tasered, although this was likely a different incident.
Other highlights include a glassblowing demonstration and a super-powered pogo stick, which I was able to handle well for awhile, but the thing eventually went out of control and I narrowly avoided landing on a parked car.
Dude had to head down to some crappy other town for a friend's birthday, so Brandy and I went to what I would consider to be one of the better coffee shops I've yet encountered in the NE. It is a very chill place with tons of natural light, couches, and space. Best of all, it is right across from a delicious cheesecake shop.
When the coffee shop tossed us out at 9, we headed back down the Main Street, which is about a mile long, in search of nightlife. There were only three places that were open, a dive bar overflowing with drunken tools, next door to a fancy-looking Italian restaurant with a bar, and a pretentious-looking wine bar on the far end of the street. Skipping the douchefest, we entered the Italian place briefly, but found that overflow from lamo pub had infiltrated and filled all of the bar seats, leaving only dining seats or standing, so we resigned ourselves to pretension. When we got to the wine bar, we found that we had misjudged and that it was not nearly as pretentious as we thought. In fact, it was quite as their name, "Chill" Wine Bar, implied - Quotes included. We drank delicious wine and relaxed there for the rest of the evening.
The next day we did some stuff.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Conference calls and hordes
It's pretty humorous when there is a conference call going on in my office. Being a lackey, I am not usually involved, so when I walk down the hall I hear the same voice echoing from four or five closed doors. I typically also get to witness a chagrined face in every office, intently focused on the phone, with a hand on forehead.
In other news, I have decided to call the New Jersians, whom I must battle as I pass through Port Authority on my reverse commute, The Hordes from the Hinterlands. I am sifting through copious amounts of photos from various days of my commute and hopefully will post them eventually.
In other news, I have decided to call the New Jersians, whom I must battle as I pass through Port Authority on my reverse commute, The Hordes from the Hinterlands. I am sifting through copious amounts of photos from various days of my commute and hopefully will post them eventually.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Beagles and Bridges
As I was biking over the Pulaski Bridge this morning another biker sped past me, wearing a backpack. Sticking out of that backpack was the head of a beagle. Yes, it did appear to be alive.
Saturday, January 31, 2009
My commute
Just a few notes about my commute, but before this I must happily proclaim that I will be on the beach in Belize by this time next week. Now, I generally am not too fond of flying internationally for only four nights, and I'm becoming less and less fond of even flying domestically for short times due to the unbelievable environmental effects of jet travel, but this was a deal that simply could not be ignored. I am a member of an organization (which shall remain nameless since I don't want any competition, suckas) which sends email alerts regarding cheap fares for your local airports. Most of them are only slightly good deals, but they sent a special email alert about incredibly cheap tickets EWR-BZE and we had to jump on them ASAP. I hadn't ever really considered going there and the only thing I knew about Belize was from the excellent book, "Our Man in Belize." I didn't even know my class schedule, but we went ahead and committed to four nights in Belize for a grand total of, with taxes, $180 per RT ticket. That's right, $180, and it would have been $140 if we could have stayed longer.
Now on to the commute:
I am in the unenviable position of having a monster of a commute that takes anywhere from 1.5-2 hours, and has lasted longer when traffic has been atrocious. No, I'm not stupid enough to drive, although that would take slightly less time on average. I'd really rather be punched in the cock repeatedly that to subject myself to that, besides the fact that anyone who travels by car (especially my inefficient van) when there is a reasonable transit option is really a pretty awful and useless person. And by reasonable I do not mean that it picks you up at your door and drops you off at work. Anyhow, I subject myself to this commute in the name of love, with the knowledge that it is only temporary and that I will not set foot in Jersey for the whole summer unless I have a frisbee in my hand and sand underfoot. That's another thing I cannot understand, how people can do this to themselves FOREVER.
It really isn't all that bad. I actually get quite a bit of reading done, of which I have plenty, and I can also sleep pretty well during the long haul portion.
I have two parts to my commute: the trip from my door to the Port Authority or Penn Station, and the long haul trip to New Brunswick. I have two choices for the long haul. The first is to take NJTransit commuter rail, which costs $17.75 RT and takes anywhere from 42 min to 1hr 15min. And it sucks ass. I really just don't like it, at least not compared to the alternative, which is the Suburban Transit aka Coach USA bus. The bus costs $13 RT for students. It is much more comfortable than the train and does not have blazing lights in your face. It does not make stops or have announcements. It is never crowded and people aren't talking like they do on the train.
Occasionally some cock knocker will watch a movie, but then I just plop my arms on the back of their seat and watch it over their shoulders. I have, however been having some annoyances with drivers who leave early, which is absolutely unacceptable for a transit operator.
The best part of my trip is right after we come out of the Lincoln Tunnel and I get a lovely view of midtown Manhattan, often with the sun rising behind. I have been taking pics and will be posting the many faces of the Manhattan morning eventually.
The subway is another story, although I will try to avoid the gritty details since breakfast is almost ready.
I have to leave at least 45 min before my bus is scheduled to leave. I have three choices, provided I do not bike. I can walk a nice ten minutes through the park to the L train and transfer to the Broadway line, but then I have to take the godforsaken L train. This damn train is always completely packed and it has a penchant for breaking down in the tunnel and making me miss my bus.
My preferred choice is to take the dreaded G train. This is the stigmatized enemy of every New Yorker, but I feel that it has a bad rap. There are some serious problems with it, but it sure makes my commute better, generally. I will take the G to the 7 and then walk a block from Times Sq to PA. I usually prefer doing this walk outside, but sometimes I walk through the tunnel.
There is this very short guy with a small head in the tunnel who plays the accordion. This always brightens my morning. The plethora of street and subway musicians is one of my favorite things about New York. I want to give this accordion play money, but I walk in the reverse commute direction and would have to brave a river of frowning New Jerseyites to cross over to where he is playing.
I am lucky in that I can look at the platform to see if there are a lot of people waiting or if the train has just passed. If it has, I can catch a bus that also takes me to the 7, although in the morning it can take an inordinate amount of time since the stops are spaced ridiculously close together. In one two block stretch there are three stops and someone always is getting on in the morning.
But, I am off now to clean up from breakfast, have a drink with my outgoing roommate and then go to a potluck where we will be signing up for the CSA summer share.
Now on to the commute:
I am in the unenviable position of having a monster of a commute that takes anywhere from 1.5-2 hours, and has lasted longer when traffic has been atrocious. No, I'm not stupid enough to drive, although that would take slightly less time on average. I'd really rather be punched in the cock repeatedly that to subject myself to that, besides the fact that anyone who travels by car (especially my inefficient van) when there is a reasonable transit option is really a pretty awful and useless person. And by reasonable I do not mean that it picks you up at your door and drops you off at work. Anyhow, I subject myself to this commute in the name of love, with the knowledge that it is only temporary and that I will not set foot in Jersey for the whole summer unless I have a frisbee in my hand and sand underfoot. That's another thing I cannot understand, how people can do this to themselves FOREVER.
It really isn't all that bad. I actually get quite a bit of reading done, of which I have plenty, and I can also sleep pretty well during the long haul portion.
I have two parts to my commute: the trip from my door to the Port Authority or Penn Station, and the long haul trip to New Brunswick. I have two choices for the long haul. The first is to take NJTransit commuter rail, which costs $17.75 RT and takes anywhere from 42 min to 1hr 15min. And it sucks ass. I really just don't like it, at least not compared to the alternative, which is the Suburban Transit aka Coach USA bus. The bus costs $13 RT for students. It is much more comfortable than the train and does not have blazing lights in your face. It does not make stops or have announcements. It is never crowded and people aren't talking like they do on the train.
Occasionally some cock knocker will watch a movie, but then I just plop my arms on the back of their seat and watch it over their shoulders. I have, however been having some annoyances with drivers who leave early, which is absolutely unacceptable for a transit operator.
The best part of my trip is right after we come out of the Lincoln Tunnel and I get a lovely view of midtown Manhattan, often with the sun rising behind. I have been taking pics and will be posting the many faces of the Manhattan morning eventually.
The subway is another story, although I will try to avoid the gritty details since breakfast is almost ready.
I have to leave at least 45 min before my bus is scheduled to leave. I have three choices, provided I do not bike. I can walk a nice ten minutes through the park to the L train and transfer to the Broadway line, but then I have to take the godforsaken L train. This damn train is always completely packed and it has a penchant for breaking down in the tunnel and making me miss my bus.
My preferred choice is to take the dreaded G train. This is the stigmatized enemy of every New Yorker, but I feel that it has a bad rap. There are some serious problems with it, but it sure makes my commute better, generally. I will take the G to the 7 and then walk a block from Times Sq to PA. I usually prefer doing this walk outside, but sometimes I walk through the tunnel.
There is this very short guy with a small head in the tunnel who plays the accordion. This always brightens my morning. The plethora of street and subway musicians is one of my favorite things about New York. I want to give this accordion play money, but I walk in the reverse commute direction and would have to brave a river of frowning New Jerseyites to cross over to where he is playing.
I am lucky in that I can look at the platform to see if there are a lot of people waiting or if the train has just passed. If it has, I can catch a bus that also takes me to the 7, although in the morning it can take an inordinate amount of time since the stops are spaced ridiculously close together. In one two block stretch there are three stops and someone always is getting on in the morning.
But, I am off now to clean up from breakfast, have a drink with my outgoing roommate and then go to a potluck where we will be signing up for the CSA summer share.
Friday, December 12, 2008
Stolen light
Some knucklehead stole the tail-light from my bike in Long Island City the other day. I actually wasn't too pissed, but what a hassle. And the whorehouse of a thief isn't going to get shit for it anyway since it's pretty old and crappy. Kind of reminds me of when my jacket got stolen in Germany. I lost a lot and someone else gained nothing. Sigh. Just goes to show that people will steal anything that's not tied down, which makes it even more amazing that my landlord can leave his kid's bike out front unlocked and it never gets jacked.
I suppose I am just procrastinating here since I have a huge paper to write. I am almost done with the semester - just this paper and my GIS project, which will be relatively easy, just a bit time consuming.
Next Fri I fly out to WI for Christmas and I'll get to spend some time in Madison, Wausau, Sheboygan and maybe even Milwaukee. I'm looking forward to seeing some real winter weather instead of the weaksauce, somewhat cold we've been getting out here.
I suppose I am just procrastinating here since I have a huge paper to write. I am almost done with the semester - just this paper and my GIS project, which will be relatively easy, just a bit time consuming.
Next Fri I fly out to WI for Christmas and I'll get to spend some time in Madison, Wausau, Sheboygan and maybe even Milwaukee. I'm looking forward to seeing some real winter weather instead of the weaksauce, somewhat cold we've been getting out here.
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