On To Niagara

Fall Odyssey 2006
October 1, 2006--Sussex, NJ to Lowbanks, ONT (382 mi)

Up at 8:30am today. I got hung-up watching a Goldie Hawn Biography on TV and didn't get out the door from my little backwoods Sussex, NJ motel until 10:15am or so. I should know by now that it's a bad idea to have the TV on in the morning while I'm getting ready--precious morning hours can get wasted, and today they did.

The landscape was wet this Sunday morning and the air smelled clean from last night's rain. I found a diner in town called the Sussex Queen where I stopped for breakfast: poached eggs, hashbrowns, the usual fare. When I returned to my car after breakfast, and as I was just about to turn the ignition, I noticed a man in his late 60's motioning to me through my windshield. With his wife at his side, he gave me an expression of disapproval while pointing to the front of my car. I got out to see what was up. Wearing a scowl the man said: "Hey...you're in an OHIO parking space and you've got COLORADO plates!" I didn't know how to respond for the first 2 seconds after this accusation was issued, but then the man smiled and told me he was just kidding.

The jokester was a Mr. Gallagher from Sussex, NJ. He and his wife had, like myself, just finished breakfast at the very crowded diner and he figured he'd have some fun with a tourist. I wound up chatting with the Gallaghers for a full half hour in the parking lot and enjoyed every minute. They were locals that had enjoyed plenty of travels of their own. They were really interested in my cross country roadtrip and had a lot of information about surrounding regions. They were approximately my parents' same age and I found myself forming a bit of a brief surrogate bond. If my parents were still around I would have probably spoken with them everyday on my trip to let them know the interesting things I was experiencing. Speaking with the Gallaghers gave me an outlet for my need to connect with my parents. My own father could have easily pulled the same parking space accusation stunt as Mr. Gallagher did--I found them to be similar personalities in a way.

When I was back on the road I found myself thinking about my parents and missing them. I was on this roadtrip partly to help process my thoughts and feelings about losing my folks, and today as I neared my family's ancestral home town of Niagara Falls, Ontario. I couldn't help have them both clearly on my mind.

From Sussex I took Route 565 southwest to Hwy 206 and then westward on Route 560 toward the Delaware River. I had been on this route once before on September 11, 2002, the day I attended the first annual commemoration of 911 in Manhattan. This time through I stopped at the little corner general store/restaurant (photo below) at the Route 640/560 junction in Layton, NJ to see what it was like inside. The restaurant looked like a great little breakfast stop so I tucked away in my mind the idea to stop here for breakfast on some future roadtrip outing.

I was amazed at how busy these country backroads were. I was less concerned about safely crossing the Avenue of Americas in Manhattan than I was with crossing Route 640 in front of the Layton Country Store (above)--it took some effort for me to snap a photo without a speeding motorcade in the frame.

This particular highway junction is fun for me because as you can see from the photo (below) of the road signage this is how a traveler gets to historic Dingman's Bridge from the New Jersey side of the Delaware River.

My Pennsylvanian Dutch ancestor and namesake, Andrew Dingman (photo above), started his own little Pennsylvania village in the mid 1700's after he built a ferryboat to service travelers across the Delaware River. For approximately 150 years the Dingman's operated the ferry across the Delaware until 1900 when the existing bridge was erected. I find it interesting that my ancestors built a bridge that still stands today--I had spent the first 4 years of my career building big steel bridges that will no doubt remain standing well long after I am gone from this world.


I hung out around the bridge for a little while taking photos and chatting with the guys taking the tolls (above). They were interested that my name is, in fact, Andrew Mark Dingman. They gave me some contact info so that I could get in touch with the historical society to see how the geneology works exactly. Years ago my dad's brother, my Uncle Gary, told me that the Dingmans were of Pennsylvanian Dutch ancestry and THAT little revelation led me to travel to this location for the first time 4 years ago.

Just down the road from the bridge, about a quarter mile or so, there exists the Delaware Cemetery which was established sometime prior to 1820 according to it's sign (below). A brief tour of this spot reveals that many Dingmans of old must have lived and died in this area. Of note I located a marker (below) for an Andrew Dingman (1804-1889) who I'm guessing is the great grandson of the Andrew Dingman who came over from the Netherlands in the early 1700s and established this area; he is also likely the son of Judge Daniel Dingman who built the stone house next to Dingman's Bridge in 1803.
Among the dozen or so other markers bearing the Dingman name I noticed there was a Colonel Dingman from the American Revolution era, a Daniel Dingman (1835-1900) that was a soldier in the American Civil War (below)...

...and a Virginia Dingman (below), the 3-year old daughter of a clearly broken-hearted Dingman couple who had the following epitaph inscripted on little Virginia's marker: "VIRGINIA -- Daughter of D.W. & Priscilla Dingman -- Died June 19, 1862 aged 3 years 9 months & 7 days -- This lovely bird so young and fair Called hence by early doom Just came to show how swe't a flow'r In paradise would bloom".

Now, most people don't stop at old cemeteries to contemplate the deceased. But at this spot I did just that, and with great interest, because my mind had for some time been in the business of pondering life and death and the meaning thereof. I thought about the unavoidable nature of death and I wondered how long it would be before I too would be finding the next world beyond. I imagine that it will not be unlikely that I'll even have the opportunity to meet all of these supposed ancestors of mine mentioned above, including the little girl once known as Virginia Dingman.

I guess that in writing these thoughts I've probably taken a bit of a detour from my travel log. But then again, I believe that we are all just travelers in this life--that our real home and family exist in some other world beyond. In taking this hiatus from my former work schedule and exploring the backroads of America like this there have been many opportunities to ponder my life and to breathe in fresh air and just simply FEEL alive. I hope that when I finally do land back on my feet in the next "job & alarm clock" segment of my life here on earth that I do so with a good balance and a mind focused on the Big Picture. We're just not here for very long--we really DO need to stop and smell the flowers every so often.

I left the Dingman's Ferry region at around 2pm. I was done with backroads at this point--I just wanted to get to the Niagara Peninsula before too late tonight. I was done with memorials and with hanging out alone in the middle of nowhere--I was very ready to meet up with my aunt and uncle at their place on Lake Erie.

I took Pennsylvania Route 739 northwestward from Dingman's Ferry to I-84 through Scranton, PA and then I-81 due north to Binghamton, New York. I had stopped in Dalton, PA just north of Scranton to get fuel and oil for the Accord. Motor oil has DEFinitely been THE commodity on this roadtrip. The Accord was at a point in its' life that it needed 2 to 3 quarts of fresh motor oil each time I filled the fuel tank up--it was like the oil vaporized as soon as I started driving.

I took I-86 from Binghamton, NY westward to Bath, NY where the freeway becomes I-390 heading due north once again. I made the mistake of leaving I-390 near Mt. Morris, NY to avoid taking the I-90 toll highway further north. Instead I took Hwy 20 westward from Mt. Morris to Buffalo, NY (see Buffalo City Hall photo below). Hwy 20 turned out to be a sloooooow goooooo! I had in front of me, nearly the entire stretch of Hwy 20 (a distance of 50 miles), some jackass maverick that made it his goal to not let me pass: no matter WHAT! He drove well under the speed limit when there was no way I could pass oncoming traffic, and then sped up to well over the speed limit when the oncoming lanes were clear for me to pass. It was plainly this person's twisted little game with me. I hadn't encountered this kind of blatant unneighborliness on my entire cross-country trek, and now I was forced to endure it on my most "spiritual" day thus far.

Because of the delay across Hwy 20 I didn't cross over the Niagara River's Peace Bridge (photo above by others) at the U.S./Canadian border until nearly 8:30pm. I was hoping to cross over the bridge while there was yet some light left--I love the view of Lake Erie opening up to the south from the crest of the bridge deck. No dice. My first stop in Canada was at a Tim Horton's in Fort Erie, Ontario to pick up a few of my favorite treats, so illusive in the United States: the butter tart.
Once I was on the Niagara Peninsula I took Route 3 westward to Wainfleet, Ontario, past the Marshville Chocolate shop, down Feeder Rd SW to Boulton Ditch Rd south, Lakeshore Rd west and then onward another 2-1/2 miles until I finally, after 13 DAYS and 3501 MILES of meandering, reached the one place on this earth that I feel completely at "home": a little 50 year old cottage on the lowbank north shores of Lake Erie at the end of a road named after a farmer. And it was here at this cottage that I met up with my aunt & uncle at 9:15pm and started my 2 week stay on the Lake.

So, by way of proper illustration: 3501 miles is the distance to drive from San Diego, California to New York City, and then back to Chicago, Illinois. That's quite a roadtrip indeed. And I still had to drive back to Denver, Colorado--eventually.

Manhattan or Bust

Fall Odyssey 2006
September 30, 2006--Farmingdale, NJ to Sussex, NJ (206 mi)

Up at 7:30am and out the door by 8am today. I was excited to see the Atlantic shores in the morning sun. Also, I fully intended to go into Manhattan today--I was really looking forward to that as well! I drove the 10 miles to the coast from my hotel--first thing. It was a perfect morning to see the Atlantic Coast for the very first time. I walked out on a pier (above) at Ocean Grove, New Jersey and down their boardwalk for awhile and just breathed in the beautiful morning. I felt maybe a little like Lewis & Clark or something. I know that's a ridiculous comparison, but after 12 days of meandering travel along the backroads of America I had kinda' "lost" myself and any notion of "home" and had become a little mini-explorer. If there had been no ocean I would have just kept on going. Ocean Grove was my very random selection of where to experience the Atlantic Coast for the first time. It was a great choice--I loved this little ocean town. It has an amazing collection of "Painted Ladies" (below), or restored Victorian era homes--the town's full of them much the way San Francisco is.



I stopped for breakfast at a place called Patty K's (below) on Main Ave in Ocean Grove. I had asked locals to point me to a good spot nearby and this was the concensus. I sat under the shade trees at a sidewalk table and listened to Patty K's offering of a John Lennon soundtrack as I ate. After poached eggs, bacon, pancakes and grapefruit juice I went along and visited some of the art galleries along Main Ave, then stopped to send out some postcards, then I went for a very satisfying walk around surrounding neighborhoods to see the Painted Ladies up close.

One of the prominent town sites in Ocean Grove that I came across was the Great Auditorium (below)--a place that the town seems very proud of indeed (if their selection of local postcards is any indication). The Auditorium was built in 1894--Theodore Roosevelt was the first of several U.S. presidents to speak to crowds in this place. While I walked around the structure and its' adjacent parks I could plainly hear a gospel choir and church organ loudly rehearsing from within. I tried to find an open doorway to enter in and watch the rehearsal, but the old place is kept very locked up it would seem.

I was pretty excited to get off to Manhattan, but I was not anxious to put an end to my morning walk through the neighborhoods of Ocean Grove, New Jersey. I finally started my drive northward by 11am. I went along the main coastal roads Hwys 71, 57 & 36 passing through towns such as Asbury Park, Long Beach and Highlands, New Jersey. Asbury Park, NJ is a place of note to Bruce Springsteen fans. It was once a very prominent resort town, but it started falling apart during the turbulent race riots of the 1960s. While I was stopped at one traffic light in Asbury Park there were several pairs of (approx) 12-year old black boys standing along the road's median. All of them wore football jerseys and were holding out football helmets for donations. I had my window down already since it was such a perfect day. I handed them a dollar and told them not to stop until they collected at least $100. They were trying to get funds for their Pee Wee fotball league. A few adult coaches stood watching nearby occasionally yelling out orders to the kids.

My immediate goal at this point was to catch the Seastreak automobile ferry into Manhattan from the marina in Highlands, NJ. It was a perfect weather day to sail into New York Harbor, pass by the Statue of Liberty, and pretend to be arriving in America for the very first time having sailed from some far off Old World location like Parker, Colorado or something. I arrived at the Highlands, NJ marina at 12 noon sharp, parked my car and walked to the ticket office by the pier just in time to watch the 12 noon ferry leaving for Manhattan! I was crest-fallen when I discovered that the next ferry to Manhattan didn't leave until 3pm. I made the decision to just drive myself into Manhattan in my trusty Accord. If I had only been 10 minutes earlier---jeeeez! I could have saved at least a few minutes if I hadn't stopped in Sea Bright, NJ to use a roadside port-a-potty (which to my unequivocated approval bore the monicker: "Johnny On The Spot"--why didn't I think of that?).

I was pretty upset to miss the ferry into Manhattan, but I was even more upset at the amount of times I got lost in this coastal region of New Jersey. Whoever is in charge of road signage in this area is a complete and collossal jackass! Never will you experience so many blatant examples of misleading directional information in the Free World as you will in coastal New Jersey. Wow. I was floored. That was also part of the reason that I was late to the marina. The marina signs actually led me into another town altogether and I had to double-back only to find the streets to the Highlands marina completely blocked-off by the police and fire departments. The annual Highlands Town Picnic, which occured right in the middle of the road, took unmistakable precedence over my plans to play "Immigrant" on the ferry boat to the Big Apple. But, no matter I suppose. I was still having a stellar day of it and so I kept up the drive toward Manhattan. It did make me a little crabby though--what a spoiled brat, eh?

So, after falling victim to several more misleading New Jersey road signs and losing maybe an hour's time doubling-back to my intended path, I finally passed through the Lincoln Tunnel(below) into Manhattan by around 2:30pm. By 3pm I had parked my little green Accord at the QuikPark at 310 West 38th Street--just a few blocks away from the Empire State Building. The valets made me leave my car keys with them and I also was instructed to leave my car doors unlocked. I wasn't too thrilled about this, especially since I had a TON of stuff with me on this road trip including my 1983 Gibson Heritage Flying V. So I put as much of it as I could in the locked trunk and then relinquished my valet key to the valets.

My first order of business once I was on foot in Lower Manhattan was to stop at a deli and get a big slice of pepperoni pizza and a cold Coke straight from the can--tasted soooo good! Nothin' sez "Manhattan" like sitting inside some old looking deli and eating pizza--eSPECially when they're loudly playing the Bee Gee's "Staying Alive" on their stereo system. I felt like some sort of movie cliché sitting there with a big grin on my face. I DO love New York.

A block away from the deli I came across Madison Square Garden (below). I immediately noticed that the Garden's marquee prominently displayed the message: "Tonight 8pm ERIC CLAPTON". I stood under the increasingly overcast skies and did battle with my desire to see Clapton in concert there in NYC. But I've seen Clapton in concert twice in the past, and I figured that I would rather not be stuck for hours inside a concert arena after all the effort I had just put forth in to getting TO Manhattan. I just wanted to walk around and explore the city until it got late.

Arriving at that monumental decision, I then made a beeline straight away to the Empire State Building (photos below). The elevator to the Empire State Building's observation deck is not quite as accessible as Meg Ryan made it seem in "Sleepless In Seattle". No sir. After fully 70 minutes of cattle-gate line-ups and winding hallways I finally made it to the 102nd Floor observation deck. It was 4:50pm and the sunlight was fading fast.

I had paid an extra $14 to travel 16 more floors upward from the main 86th Floor observation deck to the 102nd Floor deck. I guess I HAD to do this on my first trip to the ESB, but it was clearly a waste of coin. The 102nd Floor deck is fully enclosed by tinted, smudged, and graffiti-ed windows. Yuck. I was hoping for an open-air deck where for the additional $14 gratuity I would be permitted to climb on the precipice of the building's parapet and balance precariously with eyes closed and arms spread wide like Jeff Bridges in "Fearless" (1993). Instead I found myself locked inside the tiny circular observation deck listening to German, French, British, Japanese, Indian and Mandarin dialect from the other curious big-spenders I traveled up 102 floors with. The photo above shows the view looking south toward the Statue of Libery and the photo below shows the view looking north toward Central Park.

I was sooooo excited to be on top of this building...finally! Another boyhood dream realized. And speaking of Jeff Bridges references, I couldn't help not think about "King Kong" while I went around spying on the city below. I only wish I had made it to the top of the World Trade Center towers before it was too late. It was interesting to see the "King Kong" reference on one of the info placards on the 86th Floor observation deck (see photo below)--until I spotted that I thought I was just being silly thinking about Kong. But no.

I stayed on the 86th Floor deck longer than I did on the 102nd Floor deck because it was, in fact, an open-air deck. It was terribly crowded (below), and the skies were quite overcast, but I was not disappointed by my visit to the top of New York City--rather, I was quite thrilled!

After leaving the observation decks I took the elevators down to street level again where I watched a really dumb, 20-minute motion-simulated feature about NYC in the Empire State Building's "Sky Ride Theatre". This cost me an extra $18 and plainly exposed me as a first-time tourist of the lowest calibre. Jeeez, the film was even narrated by Kevin Bacon--why not DeNiro or somebody like that, eh? In total I had spent somewhere around $50 to experience the ESB for the first time. What was I supposed to do--the place is impossibly compelling. I HAD to do all that stuff! I was back on the street by 6:30pm. It was nearly dark. I got one good night shot (below) of the Empire State Building from a few blocks north.
Riding to the top of the ESB was my #1 goal in NYC. Mission accomplished. Afterwards I spent from 6:30pm to 11pm wandering the tourist-filled streets of Manhattan in search of visions familiar to me from many years of television and film exposure. First stop: Times Square (below) where I watched a little Andean acoustic quartet perform.

Next, I made brief stops at Radio City Music Hall (below) where they were hosting Celebrity Jeopardy...

...and Rockefeller Plaza (below) where David Letterman USED to hang out...
....now it's just Conan and his dog and pony show...

The last stop of my NYC night walkabout was Grand Central Station--the quintessential tourist must-see. My favorite reference to this place is from my friend Andy's first visit there a few years back where he mused to his fellow tourists: "this place is like Grand Central Station or something!". I felt this same sentiment when I first walked through the main entryway, paused at the elegant grand stairs and considered the towering concourse before me (below).

As I wandered through the Station I realized that I had not eaten since that deli pizza and it was now getting near 9pm. I browsed the restaurants in the concourse, but nothing seemed to be a fit. I settled for a chocolate gelato to get the ball rolling, but I was after something more substantial.

I went over to the Station Master's Office counter to ask advice on nearby restaurants. The two girls working the Station Master's Office wound up being my best "find" in Manhattan yet. Both were cute black girls of about 25 years of age. The one named LaShawn was very engaging indeed. We ended up hanging out for the next hour or so at her counter after she pulled out some NYC maps and let me share scallion pancakes from her take-out order. I was famished so I dug right in to the savory Chinese fare. LaShawn noted my enthusiasm and suggested that rather than my walking to some restaurant somewhere outside, why not just order more take-out from the place that brought over the scallion pancakes. Brilliant!

LaShawn picked up the phone and called up Ming's Delight (594-3rd Ave, NYC 10016--between 38th & 39th St 212-922-2888) which is only 4 blocks east of Grand Central Station. They clearly knew who she was since she simply said: "this is LaShawn at the Station. I have another order for ya'..." She even told them to speed it up because the order was for "a friend" that had a train to catch. I wasn't actually trying to catch a train, so I thought that this was a nice persuasive touch on her part. LaShawn said I had about 20 minutes until the food arrived. I went over to one of the station stores to buy a cold bottle of Coke and then slowly I wandered back through the main concourse where after only 15 minutes I heard LaShawn announcing my name over the main Public Address system: "Mark, please report to the Station Manager's Office...Mark, please report to the Station Manager's Office immediately!"

So, with a huge grin on my face off I went to pick up my take-out order. I feasted on the best chicken & broccoli and scallion pancakes I've ever had. This just may be the best Chinese take-out shop I've ever discovered--anywhere--period! Notice that I've included the address and phone number above--I'll be in NYC again and when I am, I will gladly order from Ming's Delight yet again!...yippee kai....yippee yeeaaaahh!! My fortune cookie from Ming's instructed me that: "One should count each day a separate life".

I went and sat down to eat my take-out at one of the tables around the station's restaurant court. Two very cute girls of about 21-years of age sat down right next to me even though there were empty tables as far as the eye could see in the now closed-for-business food court. They each had the most enormous collection of shopping treasures all bundled up in the stylish, heavy-paper bags of every prominent clothier in Manhattan. They started taking photos of each other with their new gear, so I offered to take a few shots with them posing together. I wondered just how safe it was for two pretty little white girl tourists laden with $1000 worth of fashion schwag to be flaunting about the NYC subway as it approached 10pm. That wasn't my problem, but I do hope they survived the subway with all their bags intact.

After my Grand Central Station/Ming's Delight foray (see photo above--Grand central Station with Chrysler Bldg in rear) I had to make haste back to my poor little green vulnerable Accord and its' unlocked doors--the garage locks up for the night at 11pm. I walked fast enough that I had just enough time to write up a few postcards at a Times Square deli and mail them off before getting back to the garage. It only cost $14 to park there for about 8 hours--pretty reasonable, and nothing had been damaged or stolen. I think NYC looks scarier to the outsider" than it really is.

I was back on the road by 10:55pm. I took the Lincoln Tunnel back over to New Jersey and followed I-95, then I-280, and finally Hwy 15 north-westward into the New Jersey boonies near the Delaware River. After some jostling around on the backroads I settled in at the low-grade Rolling Hills Motel in Sussex, NJ at 1:15am. I was KNACKered! Lights out came at 2am. Judas what a day.