Olivia's Overlook on Memorial Day

"Hanging on by your teeth" has new meaning. The view of the Stockbridge Bowl from Olivia's Overlook was superb. Marketers everywhere were trumpeting the first weekend of the summer and the elements agreed: it was sunny, cool and still. A perfect afternoon for a walk in the woods. Or so I imagined.



The Berkshire Natural Resource Council has done an excellent job marking and maintaining the trails. Mike and I set off to the south on the Michael H. Walsh trail. After crossing a footbrige at the edge of the meadow, a large sign provided a map described the Walsh, Charcoal and Ridge trails in detail. It warned of "tricky footing" in some sections.

The Charcoal Trail was named for the pits used to make the charcoal used as fuel early in the industrial revolution. By the middle of the nineteenth century, most of Massachusetts had been deforested, and these hills were no exception. Now they have largely reverted to mature forest with tall oaks, maples, white pines and hemlocks forming a thick canopy.



Native azaleas and evergreens formed heavy undergrowth. The "swamp pink" was already in bloom and the mountain laurel was on the cusp.



Mike and I continued further into the woods on the downhill slope with ease. The ascent was where the footing got tricky. For Mike. Under most circumstances, Mike is game for any hike. He will gladly march through heavy snow in sub zero temperatures; he is fearless in front of black bears. But the carpet of dry oak leaves on a narrow, steeply inclined trail bested him. Even with his claws fully extended, he was unable to obtain any purchase. He slipped off the trail and began sliding down the slope on his back. He accepted my hand with the only tool he had left: his teeth. And he hung on as tightly as he could without causing me harm. I slid down beside him, picked him up and carried him back to the trail. Nothing doing. He aimed straight down hill and walked away, completely off the trail. I followed, eventually putting him back on the leash. We made our way back up the hill on an ancient diagonal track which I suspect was originally used to drag logs up to the charcoal pits.



I was not able to figure out the purpose of the rock columns. Druids maybe? Mike was totally disinterested.



He was, however, thrilled to be back on the ridge and in the sun. Haze obscured our westward views but not joy of sitting and enjoying them.

Once Every Other Year

The Japanese passion for cherry blossoms is strongest when the petals are released from the tree and drift to the ground. Gardens are landscaped around capturing that moment. The crab apple trees in my yard were not placed with such care. In fact, one of them blocks a fine view of October Mountain. But for one week every other year I am treated to such a riotous display that I am persuaded not to improve the view for the other hundred and one.

Berkshire Mass Transit Busses

The mass transit system in Hong Kong is among the most colorful and efficient in the world. In addition to the world class rail systems, both above and below ground, it has London style double deck busses, mini busses, ferries, and trams. The Star Ferry and Peak Tram have never ceased to excite me, even after three decades. Everyone in Hong Kong is familiar with the system and almost everyone uses it regularly. It is so good I could not imagine a resident not using it. I was dumbfounded several years ago when I met a not-so-recently arrived British expatriate who had never ventured below ground on the MTR. Perhaps I should have been more understanding.

I returned to the Berkshires about six years ago. Over that time I have seen the shiny blue BRTA busses crisscrossing the county. Until this morning, I had never boarded one. I needed to drop off a car at Hertz in Pittsfield and then return to Lee. Hertz was located near the Allendale shopping center and BRTA route 2/16 began there and terminated in Lee. Perfect. I would take the bus.

No one at Hertz knew where the bus stop was; I asked at least five people. Directly behind Hertz in the shopping center, a clerk at Big Lots advised the bus stop was along side the Big Lots building. At 10:40, right on time, the bus pulled up to the building. Before I could get on, however, I was advised to allow passengers to disembark first. A frail looking old dear, with dark glasses and black gloves, declined my offer of assistance. A couple of big dudes wearing shorts and sporting dreadlocks followed. When I stepped on I was the only rider. The bus was spotless. The only advertising posters inside were public service announcements.

The fare from Allendale to Lee was $3.30, or $1.10 per zone with each town representing a zone. The driver would not make change, but he would make conversation. He suggested that at the “intermodal center” on North Street in Pittsfield, I buy a pack of gum at the coffee shop to break my twenty and then pay the fare. Fine. Contrary to an NPR report earlier this week about increased mass transit ridership in Boston, LA and Miami: “No. More people are not riding the bus around here,” the driver explained. “Only the poor and unfortunate ride the bus; the rest just complain about gas prices but keep driving their cars.”

The NPR story emphasized how the economy in general and fuel prices in particular were compelling the new straphangers to use mass transit. A sad story made only more so by the observation that those still driving were benefitting from less traffic. No doubt unintentionally, this month’s Berkshire Living magazine validated the notion that riding the bus is for the “poor and unfortunate.” Nowhere in an issue dedicated to “green” living was there a mention of the excellent BRTA busses or routes throughout the county.

Tony Luke's

Once upon a time, the Eagle Café at the corner of Fenn and Fourth in Pittsfield, Massachusetts served a great sandwich. The aroma of grilled onions greeted you at the door. We always sat at the bar and watched Nick, the proprietor, slow cook sliced onions on one side of the griddle and fry up Italian sausage patties on the other side. The two were married on a warm bun and crowned with a slice of provolone. It’s been at least twenty five years since I last entered the Eagle Café. Now I do my best duplicate Nick’s sandwich with fresh Mazzeo’s sausage patties, sometimes using the sweet other times the hot.

Today at Tony Luke’s in Philadelphia, I encountered a worthy companion to Nick’s sandwich: Italian link sausage (sliced into strips the long way), sautéed peppers and provolone on a hoagy bun. Outstanding.



Tony’s is definitely a guy place. At noon, I reckoned males outnumbered females ten to one. I’m told there are more women at night but I suspect they are humoring their dates after the game or a night on the town. The menu tells story: all manner of cheese steaks. Try the roast pork and broccoli rabe with sharp provolone. Perhaps as a sign of the times, the prices on the wall menu were covered. Everything is going up. Judging from the billboard riding on top of the restaurant, the owners still have an excellent sense of humor.

Peak Forsythia

The picture of my house on Google Earth is sharp. The outline of the roof is clear, trees stand out as individuals. It was taken on a day much like today. And at exactly this time of year. I know because there is a big patch of yellow at the end of my driveway. The forsythia. It peaked today. Last week it was still snowing; today it is in the eighties. Tomorrow the forsythia petals will blanket the ground.

Google's spy cam was not sharp enough to show the mailbox polo hits, however. Or which hero scored the winning blow.

Earth Day in Central Park

Three years ago, Christo transformed Central Park. I was reluctant to spend a gray February day in the park and was fully prepared to be disappointed. I wasn't. In fact, I was converted by The Gates within seconds. The installation was magic. The scale was breathtaking, the execution was impeccable; but for me the beauty was mostly in the mood The Gates created. Everyone in the park or near it was thrilled. For three of the most dismal winter weeks, those bright orange flags made New York a sunny place. Yesterday, Central Park had much of the same vibe. Rather than emanating from the vision of one artist, however, it came from the efforts, and perhaps relaxations, of many: Pope Benedict XVI, the local Earth Day organizers, Frederick Law Olmsted and the sunbathers.



Along Fifth Avenue, throngs gathered to see the pope. Signs read "WE LOVE YOU"; some waved Vatican flags. There was lots of music and singing, mostly Latin American. Kids waited with their parents and dogs; no crying or snarling. Everyone was in a fine mood and the helicopters hovering directly overhead did nothing to dampen it. I saw Pope Benedict for a few blinks an eye, encased in his white popemobile. Lots of waving, cheering and then it was time for a walk in the park.



There were activities all over. Like the police spotters guarding the pope, Red Tailed hawks watched us from skyscrapers; we spied on them through Swarovski scopes. One meter yatching enthusiasts raced remote control boats in the Conservancy Water. Following in Dylan's footsteps, Don McCloskey sang protest songs to a new generation at the band shell. The music was part of an all day program organized by peacexpiece. Paul Kostabi provided direction for a collaborative patchwork mural, said to be the world's largest and longest "eco mural." Sunshine Burger and Wholemato handed out organic whole food veggie burgers with the best ketchup I've ever tasted. Glint and Rely Records distributed Dawn redwood seedling kits with instructions how to propgate them (and a web address to track where they are eventually planted). Lennon fans decorated the Imagine Mosiac with dozens of cut flowers.



It was sunny, warm, and positively bursting with life. The grass was lush, the daffodils and tulips were glorious, and Olmsted's trees were sprouting fresh foliage which cast a lemon lime light. New Yorkers were soaking it all in. I can think of no better place on Earth to be on this particular day.

Rogue in Ellenville

Chef Marcus Guiliano at the Aroma Thyme Bistro hosted a feast when Rogue craft brewers came to Ellenville. The five course menu was launched with Kells Irish Lager (which Marcus had on tap) to complement Marcus's spinach and apple salad with two blue cheeses (Rogue Crater Lake and Smokey Blue); the apple notes in the Kells were great with both the greens and the cheeses.

The Uber Pilsner cleansed the palate on the way to the next course: soba noodles with stir fried mushrooms and Long Island micro greens paired with Morimoto Soba Ale. The buckwheat noodles worked but the beer didn't. The beer was true to its ingredients but they are better in the noodles.

Next we had Emperor Fish with a Thai style coconut curry sauce accompanied by Rogue's Morimoto Imperial Pilsner. Both were outstanding and worked very well together. I will definitely be drinking the Imperial again. Morimoto has a big golden beer worthy of an Iron Chef.

At this point, Marcus interrupted the meal with a bonus 3 litre bottle he had been cellaring for three years: Hazelnut Brown Nectar. This could have been dessert. Rich and heavy with a hint of nutty sweetness.

Next came a couple of ales and a lamb steak with polenta and roasted onions (gotta love the onions). The Dead Guy and Saint Rogue Red both were up to the task. I'm not sure I was though.

Now came dessert: Sherry & Fruit Trifle with a glass of Chocolate Stout. Officially, there was no choice but to love the stout because the representative from Rogue had her picture on the bottle. Maybe it was the trifle which pushed me over the edge. Whatever it was, I was pinned to the mat and had to cry uncle. I never even tried the Old Crustacean. Marcus confided he still has some in the cellar.