In This Issue
- Flanigan’s Eco-Logic: A New York / Vermont Travelogue
- Fossil-Free Steel
- Drone Delivery Services
- Microgrids 1.9: Microgrid Perspectives
- San Francisco’s Hydrogen Ferry
- Highways that Charge EVs
- German Coal Plant Closes Really Early
- The NetPositive Podcast Updates
Flanigan’s Eco-Logic: A New York / Vermont Travelogue
Landed at JFK. Terry and I immediately felt the deep and pervasive heat and humidity as we disembarked and headed up the jetway. Yes, it’s an East Coast summer. It’s August 7th, 11 pm, Long Island after lots of rain. Travel mix-ups and delays and we meet brother Bill and Kathy at JetBlue arrivals after midnight. But we’re in good time for Mom’s 91st birthday on August 9th.
Forty minutes later: What a relief when we hit the pebble driveway in Oyster Bay. Away from the airport throngs, away from the intensity of the Van Wyck and the Long Island Expressways… shedding the hustle of travel. A long day.
I kill the engine and we’re struck by a symphony, the insect chorus! It’s loud and pervasive and lovely. The chorus is largely made up of katydids and crickets, order orthopterans. Cicadas apparently do their singing in broad daylight. What a sound, the sound of the night insects. These are “true songs” in the biological sense. They are sung to attract mates.
Birthday preparations all. Digital tiny house images stream in from Snowmass. Enlarging. Framing. Wrapping. Buying ingredients and baking. It’s great to see and hang with family, our first time in nearly two years. We attempted little else except for an exciting meeting in the Bronx. Off to market with Mom; a couple dips in my uncle’s pool. Simple and special moments.
A wonderful family tribute to Mom’s 91st birthday with her three sons coming from Colorado, Vermont, and California. Covid bagged any chance of a 90th celebration. This year, a back-lawn cocktail birthday party for Mom with two of her three siblings, the fourth in Maine for the summer. Two of my local cousins shored up the family ranks. Plus Susan. How very fortunate. Drinks, hors d’oeuvres, a few gifts. We do it up a bit, complete with a few tearful toasts.
Time to drive north to Vermont to see my brother Russell’s family. “Viridis montis” is Latin for Green Mountains! “Vert mont” is the French derivation for Vermont. Full on summer in the Green Mountain state it is. There are big clouds and periodic rain. It’s as green as it gets… a lush landscape that will turn into a bonfire of colors in fall, and then white and bleak in the darks days of winter. I honk as we cross the border from Massachusetts into Vermont.
We gas up in Springfield, Vermont. My brain eases as we pass forests and farms. We turn onto Interstate 89 in White River. Two hours north to Burlington. Our rental climbs up the Richmond hill, and to its top in Williston. We’re ten miles out. From there you can see Vermont’s biggest city, Burlington, high on a plain overlooking the Lake Champlain Valley. Love the floods of college memories for the next few days as we drive around Burlington and pass the University of Vermont (UVM) and the Billings Student Center.
Route 7 south for about 12 miles, past Shelbourne, past a dairy with a massive solar array, then turning off at the Charlotte Ferry Road. We rented a camp in Charlotte right on Lake Champlain. A cabin, rough and plain. Down some rickety — read treacherous — steps to the water. I jump in… fresh, fresh water, and lots of it!
This camp defines funky. Its deck is its selling point, aloft in the trees, looking out over the lake, west to New York and North to Vermont. Water pressure? Certainly not. I had to buy and install a new showerhead to replace the one that fell to pieces on the shower floor. Later in the week, Russell, Ayden, and Kieran bring their motor boat down to the camp and its dock. Terry and I get a high-speed tour of that part of the lakefront thanks to our captain, Kieran.
Camel’s Hump is Vermont’s third highest mountain at 4,081 feet, following Mansfield and Killington. On board for the climb is my brother Russell (who would later grin and say that was his first and last trek up that mountain), his sons Jake and Ayden, Terry and I. The trail was tough with incessant haphazard rocks, roots and mud. Lots of great conversation with Jake made picking our way up the mountain a great pleasure for Terry and I. Jake brought and gave Terry his hiking poles. We pause in “the saddle”… it’s only 20 minutes to the top from there.
We summit, and being on top of the hump as always is thrilling. We packed a gourmet trail lunch, and our deserving crew devoured it. We take pictures. We watch clouds drift by and enjoy the view to the west of Lake Champlain and the Adirondacks. To the east are the White Mountains of New Hampshire.
Time for the second half of this adventure. We pick our way down the rocky trail slowly, for hours. At the trailhead I see a plaque honoring the work of Hub Vogelmann, a botanist and conservation leader I was lucky enough to have as a professor and advisor at UVM. He passed away in 2013. Hub is recognized for focusing the nation’s attention on the threat of acid rain. He did his research on Camel’s Hump tracking the status of the red spruce. Measurements were taken by his students in the 1960s and then a decade later, showing a shocking decline in the well-being of trees, including a loss of half the spruce. His article in Natural History, “Catastrophe on Camel’s Hump” drew strong reactions from scientists across the nation and raised awareness about acid rain.
Saying goodbye to the boys. We have an outdoor and farewell dinner in Burlington at the Farmhouse Tap and Grill, everything local including the booz. Good times. Later we enjoy s’mores and get a house tour at Jake and Mollie’s home. We’re so impressed by this young couple who are rebuilding their home. The new covered porch is really nice.
The next morning, Russ makes us egg-white and spinach breakfast sandwiches, we say our final goodbyes and head south. We detoured in Williston to check on the farmhouse where I lived when I was in grad school, reportedly the oldest house in Williston. Yes, it’s still standing, sporting a fresh coat of paint! Memories flood my brain… saunas, music, the mud people!
Back to Oyster Bay for another night with Mom, and then into Brooklyn to visit daughter Stephanie. We take the Long Island Expressway (affectionately known as the “distress-way”), then hit the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway south into Brooklyn near the majestic Brooklyn Bridge. We’re staying at the Marriott and park way underground. Stephanie’s got a great apartment, though quite tiny. She keeps it so neat and well appointed. She’s painted an accent wall.
We have lunch at a hip cafe nearby and then walk to the waterfront to ferry over to Governors Island for an afternoon concert and throwback party. Costumes. Classy jazz and swing. Prime people watching. Then back to the Piers… we walk and explore. The masses are out enjoying the waterfront and the sunny summer day.
Brooklyn has created a wonderful urban park by repurposing several piers no longer needed for commercial shipping. One pier has been converted to being a clearly popular recreation center with basketball, handball, volleyball, etc. Lots going on. A mix of people with a common love of exercise and the outdoors. Another pier is now a grassy park. There’s a barbecue area with tables along the waterfront. Vibrant. Boats on the river, helicopters in the air. The massive bridges. There’s lots of diversity here, and a common theme of enjoying the fresh air and splendor at hand.
We’re impressed by this part of Brooklyn, the busy East River with the full downtown skyline of Manhattan in our view. We celebrate Terry’s birthday with dinner at Cecconi’s in Dumbo, (Down Under the Manhattan Bridge Overpass), outdoors and just off the promenade along the river. We’re so close to the Manhattan Bridge that the rumble of the MTA trains that cross the river on the bridge periodically drowns out our conversations. There’s lots of boating action on the river… sunset cruises, even jet skis dwarfed by the urban scale. Sun setting, killer view, ideal table, great food, nice toasts. The perfect end to our short and fulfilling East Coast trip.