Category Archives: Trip Ideas

22 Hours On A Train

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First rule with Amtrak has to be to lower your expectations. Case in point; after 15 or so hours there were several serviceable bathrooms and several with toilet paper but precious few with both. But there were some highlights mostly found in the company we kept. Like playing poker with a trio of step cousins from the great northwest (we pretended wads of napkins were money and Henna more than held her own). We also swapped jokes with Grayson (a carpenter with a poet’s eye) and took note of the absurd like the Amish teenagers who snuck away from their families to surf the net a bit with a borrowed smart phone.  We even were able to sleep a bit.  All of this kind of made up for the hour and a half we were stuck in the middle of nowhere wondering if the engineer would ever get us going again. He did and we ended our day in Times Square happy to be on the road once more.

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The Trip Begins (almost)

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Hennacornoelidays friend and super cool Edison Park buddy Ragan recently sent Corey the following link describing how a family sold everything they owned in order to visit over four hundred national parks in an Airstream Bus.  It is a good read and maybe even a bit inspiring.  It is also a totally unrealistic option for 99% of families (for starters, if everyone dropped out then who would man the road side farm stands).  Also, for the record, we happen to like our jobs not to mention our friends and family.  When taking to the road we always look forward to the return.

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But what if we, as Americans, tried to be just a tad bit more European?  And by European I mean we strive to spend a minimum of one month a year on vacation.  Maybe being paid for this time off is a stretch (although it would be European).  But ask yourself, would you be willing to take a one twelfth or 8% pay cut in exchange for one solid month of freedom? Not sell everything you own and live out of a van, but maybe put off a few house repairs in exchange for a couple of sunsets on the beach.  As educators, Corey and I are lucky to be able to choose that option.

On break from the day to day grind

On break from the day to day grind

In about a week we walk away from the comfort and security of our home.  In an effort to conserve resources (namely money) we are bringing along the tent and have also become familiar with airbnb.  We also have introduced ourselves to various businesses and lodgings i.e. we went looking for free stuff.  These efforts resulted in a reduced car rental price and a free night at a hostel in Reykjavik.  It is therefore only polite (and maybe a bit expected) to give a shout out to these fine folks.

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Sadcars might be a bit misnamed as there is nothing sad about paying less money for your car rental.  Yes there fleet is a bit…mature.  But per the website and a few online reviews the cars are well maintained and a great alternative to paying maybe a thousand dollars or more a week for a more recent vehicle vintage.  The place also reeks of genuine coolness as they man a very clever blog on their website to go with individualized travel suggestions.  If my 1998 Jeep Cherokee is good enough for Chicago, a similar looking car should be fine for Iceland.

Bus Hostel Reykjavik

Last hostel I stayed in was in the late ‘90s when my friend Dan and I resorted to “borrowing” eggs from the employees in order to eat dinner.  Ah, the memories.  From the website, Bus Hostel Reykjavik (bushostelreykjavik.com) looks a lot snazzier than that dwelling in England’s Lake District.  For starters they have a smart looking bar with a piano. Fancy.  Other photos on their website show candle lit dining (seriously) and clean dorm and private rooms (we are staying in a private room).  They also keep a fun blog going (all these Icelandic blogs should not be too surprising given that Iceland has one of the highest literacy rates in the world).  I think though that egg-stealing is frowned upon.

All smiles

All smiles

That is all for now.  Time to get back to planning and packing.

Along Route 66: Funks Grove, Il (just east of Springfield)

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The people of Funks Grove do not take kindly to folks putting a “y” in their sirup.  Why?  No idea.  But they have been tapping into their Sweet Maples since the 19th century.  After the Mother Road came into being it was only natural that they would sell a few gallons by the side of the road.  If you come by in mid-March you will likely see Mike Funk overseeing gallons upon gallons upon gallons of sap boiling away into a much smaller quantity of gloriously sticky and sweet smelling sirup.  The sirup then is bottled a few feet away from the stove and sold next door by his family.  The Funks encourage questions and picnickers making this a perfect rest stop for the road weary.  Nearby is the Sugar Grove Nature Center which we left for our next visit.  After tasting the sirup I can tell you that there will be a next time.

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Mike Funk helping the sap boil


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Along Route 66: Becky’s Barn (a little west of Springfield, IL)

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Becky's Barn

Becky’s Barn

Although sometimes little more than a frontage road paralleling Interstate 55, Route 66 survives mostly intact through Illinois.  This includes approximately one and a half mile of brick road laid out 1931.  Immediately adjacent to this section is Becky’s Barn which is definitely a cut above the typical antique/road kitsch barns you see dotted along the highway. For starters there is owner Rick Hargett, an unabashed pro-union anti-Republican cuddly bear of a man who much more closely resembles Willie Nelson than Ralph Nader.  Besides the numerous bumper stickers celebrating his views he also gives a 20% discount to all union members and soldiers (“The union builds the country and the soldiers protect it”).    Sadly the namesake of his store, Becky, passed away last January.  After flirting with closing down the store for good, Rick instead decided to stay open.  And on a beautiful, almost summer like day in March, we were glad he did.  Open Thursday through Sunday 10 A.M.-5 P.M. To get to their website click here.

Corey, Rick, and Rick's friend

Corey, Rick, and Rick’s friend

On Route 66

On Route 66

Winter to Spring: Starved Rock

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Late December (2014)

We took a detour on our way to Springfield to check on our favorite frozen waterfall. Now if you look closely you can see a flowing tongue of water breaking apart its’ icy shell.

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We redid the same hike in two seasons and found them not to be the same at all. Fewer eagles and more tourists for starters. Also we spent less time looking down (those stairs are slippery in Winter) and more time just sitting on benches with our eyes closed soaking up the sun.

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Missed you warmth.

Gros Morne

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Western Brook Pond

There were no moose living in Newfoundland prior to 1904. That is when the British introduced four moose to the island in an effort to promote better eating habits among the islanders. From that modest stock there are now well over 100,000 moose in Newfoundland. There favorite pastime is to jump in front of moving cars. So it was a little bit scary when the fog rolled in midway through our journey south from St. Anthony back to Gros Morne. While locals and kids on bikes passed me by, I gripped the steering wheel tight and made it back safely to the national park.

Relaxing at end point of Lookout trail

The Tablelands
Gros Morne is like no park I have ever been. Among the oddities are bays with water so still they look like lakes along with fjords that have been landlocked for tens of thousands of years. Oddest yet are the Tablelands ands which are portions of the earth’s mantle exposed for tourists to climb over. There is no other known place like it.
It is also very much a living museum. Created the same year Corey and I were (1973), it is nestled in a hard-working family fishing world where many of the park interpreters spent summer after summer salting and canning the fish their fathers caught. Within the park boundaries there are several villages that consist of little more than a few scattered houses facing the sea and the equipment needed to bring the fish to market. Many of the people we have met over the past week are fishermen elsewhere on the island who have done this work for generations. Talking with them (especially the older generation) gives one a real appreciation for how hard it is to make a living off the sea. Catching the fish is the easiest part (and is done almost exclusively by the men). You then had to gut them, salt them, wash them, dry them, can them, and then clean the cans for market. One family operation cleared over 100,000 pounds of fish in a single summer. They were paid a cent and a half of pound so $1500 was divided among three families (with a work week lasting every hour of the long Newfie summer day).

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The curious thing about Newfoundland is the limited amount of fish ready to buy at market. Fish here is a commodity sent south to Maine or east to Europe. Maybe you keep a little for the home, but there is none to buy at the local grocery shelves. Truth be told there is little else to buy and in the end that might be why we come home.

Paint Pots and Nova Scotia

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Ahhh…the red’s, blues and green’s are so much brighter here. We drove from Hopewell Rocks, a by product of erosion and tide, to this perfect beach. First we skipped rocks then tried to enjoy the Nova Scotia night but were swarmed by unrelenting Mosquitos who then buzzed outside our tent all night. Actually worse than what it sounded like. Off now to Cape Breton and hopefully the bugs do not come with.

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