DOWN(ER) DAY

JUNE 1, 2012   No touring today.  We did an early morning laundry run at the very good facilities here in the park, then put everything away so that we could take the rig out and drive to Annapolis to pick up the scoot.  The parts had arrived from Georgia, and it was ready to go.  We had to park the rig in a nearby mall parking lot as there wasn’t sufficient room at the repair shop.  The mechanic warned us that the headlight no longer worked, there was a (death?) rattle coming from the back of the engine, and we desperately need a new front tire.  It is cupped beyond belief, and was the source of the singing whine I was hearing when we got up to speed.  Curiously, we never felt any effect from it.  I ran my hand over the tire and it felt like a stegosaurus’ back.  We had no time to get repairs done, as we have to be on the road tomorrow.  Hmmm.  Maybe I’ll donate this scoot to one of the boyos, and get a new one?

We made haste getting back to the park because the weather reports were turning ugly.  Unlike SoCal, when they get worked up back here for a “storm watch,” they mean real weather.  We made it back, hooked everything up again, and turned on the t.v.  Oh, yeah.  Here it comes.

Our park is located about midway between College Park and Greenbelt on the map.  We got some pretty high winds and a lot of rain, but the tornados went elsewhere.  We stayed nice and snug in the rig and rode it out.

NAVY YARD AND MALL RATS

MAY 31, 2012      Anchors away, today.  Off to the Navy Yard and the National Museum of the U.S. Navy to reconnect with my inner tar.  Even if you aren’t ex-Nav, this place has some interesting stuff.  It’s the only museum to portray the entire history of the Navy.  The Yard itself has quite a history, being the oldest shore facility of the Navy.  It was the scene of many scientific developments. Robert Fulton conducted research and testing on his clockwork torpedo during the War of 1812. In 1822, Commodore John Rodgers built the country's first marine railway for the overhaul of large vessels. John A. Dahlgren developed his bottle-shaped cannon that became the mainstay of naval ordnance before the Civil War. In 1898, David W. Taylor developed a ship model testing basin, which was used by the Navy and private shipbuilders to test the effect of water on new hull designs. The first shipboard aircraft catapult was tested in the Anacostia River in 1912, and a wind tunnel was completed at the Yard in 1916. The giant gears for the Panama Canal locks were cast at the Yard.  The Museum itself is located in the former Breach Mechanism Shop of the Gun Factory.

On a Thursday morning, we virtually had the place to ourselves.  Maybe having to pass through gate security (this is still an active base) and wander about to locate the right building have something to do with it. 

Three things I found particularly interesting were the deep submersible “Trieste,” a copy of the German WWII code machine, “Enigma,” and a nail made by Paul Revere and used in the construction of the USS Constitution.

Trieste was first launched in 1953 near Naples, Italy, by its Swiss designer, Auguste Piccard. After several years of operations in the Mediterranean, she was purchased by the Navy and transported to San Diego. In 1959 she was transported to the Mariana Islands for a series of deep-submergence operations into the Challenger Deep, the deepest spot in the ocean, part of the Mariana Trench. It has a 50-foot hull, 12 feet in diameter, and is filled with gasoline (lighter than water) to make it buoyant.  Into the thing went Piccard and Navy Lieutenant Donald Walsh.  They were in a sphere attached to the bottom of the hull, that white globe you see in the picture.

The nearly 7-mile descent took 4 hours and 48 minutes.  The pressure down there was 16,883 pounds per square inch (more than a thousand times greater than the pressure at sea level), yet they still saw marine life.  In 1963, Trieste went to the Atlantic Ocean to search for the lost submarine USS Thresher (SSN-593). She was taken out of service soon after completing that mission and went to the Museum.

The Enigma machine enabled its operator to type a message, then ‘scramble’ it using a letter substitution system, generated by variable rotors and an electric circuit. To decode the message, the recipient needed to know the exact settings of the wheels. The Germans, convinced their Enigma messages were unbreakable, used the machine for battlefield, naval, and diplomatic communications.

Although the experts at Bletchley, England, first succeeded in reading German code during the 1940 Norwegian campaign, their work only began to pay off meaningfully in 1941, when they were able to gather evidence of the planned invasion of Greece.

From 1941 onwards, Bletchley’s experts focused upon breaking the codes used by German U-boats in the Atlantic. In March 1941, when the German armed trawler ‘Krebs’ was captured off Norway complete with Enigma machines and codebooks, the German naval Enigma code could finally be read. The Allies could now discover where U-boats were hunting and direct their own ships away from danger.

The German Navy, rightly suspicious that their code had been cracked, introduced a fourth wheel into the device, multiplying the possible settings by twenty six. The British finally broke this code that they called ‘Shark’ in December 1942.

Loyal readers (or the hopelessly lost) will recall that in 2010 we saw another Enigma machine (in terrible condition) during our trip to the Outer Banks and the Graveyard of the Atlantic museum.

Mom would have liked our visit to the Navy Museum, being a former WAVE during WWII stationed at Jacksonville NAS, Florida.  There were some nice displays about WAVE life.  I suspect the pay wasn’t all that bad for the early ‘40s.  Anchors away, Mom. 

There were dozens of ship models on display, enough to make any hobbyist’s heart go aflutter.  Loni, however, remained calm.  This is the USS Leyte, CVA 32, an Essex-class WWII carrier.  When I was transitioning back from the Tonkin Gulf in 1969, I hitched a ride back to Subic on a sister ship, the “Bonny Dick” (Bonne Homme Richard, CVA 31).  It was, as I remember, incredibly cramped and a far cry from the larger Connie and the Hawk on which I had been stationed.

Outside the Museum is berthed the USS Barry, a Cold War-era destroyer that is open for touring.  Ever the old salts, we went aboard.  A pretty complete self-guided tour of nearly all sections of the ship.  That’s the captain’s sea cabin at lower left.  Not much, but pretty luxurious for a smaller ship.

Done with our tour, we had lunch at the very good cafeteria there.  Afterwards, we decided to walk the Mall, or what we could see of it during it’s revamping.  We saw the usual suspects,

and some stuff that was new to us.  We decided to walk around the tidal basin to get to the Jefferson Memorial.  On the way we ran into one we hadn’t visited before, the FDR memorial.  This was really quite good.  It stretches over 100 yards or so of paths and displays, including a lot of bronze statues.  Not as lifelike as those soldiers above, but interesting in their own right.  It makes for a great stroll.  The men in coats represent a Depression bread line.  Fala looks a bit poofy to me.  The water feature would be a draw during the hot summer months.

I think the Jefferson Memorial is my favorite of the various monuments.  I like the light play through the columns, and his writings etched in the walls.  Gosh.  Warning: political rant!  Do you think Scalia and the other “original intent” diviners ever stood here and read Jefferson’s words about a living Constitution?  Do ya?  OK, rant over.  That didn’t hurt, did it?

This was a long day, but one of the best.  Washington truly is beautiful, and best enjoyed just before the Summer hordes arrive.  Like I said, we almost had the place to ourselves.

READ ALL ABOUT IT!

May 30, 2012       The Newseum was spectacular!  Don’t miss it.

One of the few museums in D.C. that is not part of the Smithsonian complex, this is a standout in every way.  We started with the Gallery of Pulitzer Prize –winning photographs.  Wow.  We weren’t permitted to take photos, so can’t give a visual, but we lingered long in here.  Many of these we remember as front-page news during our lives.  Utterly amazing photos.

The only downside to this place is its layout.  The interior is like out of an M.C. Escher drawing.  We constantly were pouring over the map, often to no avail, to try and figure out how to get from one area to another.  For all the cool exhibits, the place is a navigation nightmare.

 

There were sections devoted to sports reporting, pieces of the original Berlin Wall, great books, history of news, first amendment freedoms, broadcast studios

the oxymoronic reporter’s ethics center, the 9-11 attack, including a spire from the top of one of the twin towers,

the journalists’ memorial, a world news gallery where you can read the front pages of newspapers around the world on the day of your visit,

interactive game kiosks to test your skills as a reporter, a gallery on the evolution of electronic news gathering technology . . . . whew!  We got hungry.  Fortunately, the Newseum sports perhaps the best museum cafeteria in the city, operated by Wolfgang Puck’s team.  It was a little daunting for some,

but the food was worth it.  We both scored with beautifully cooked salmon with herbed breading on a bed of Napa cabbage, a side of mac-n-cheese (Loni opted for potatoes), and perfectly-cooked veggies.  All that for only $10.75! 

Suitably stuffed, we perused the rest of the exhibits till nearly closing time.

In a bit of serendipity, I came across this display.  Ellsworth is Mom’s home town!  Wonder if she knew this guy?  Probably not.  He was 20 years her senior, so probably left for the bright lights while she was a babe, and returned long after she had moved away.

This was one of the highlights of our trip, and well merits the two-day pass.

HEROES’ REST

May 29, 2012      Arlington National Cemetery is a must see on any visit to D.C., especially on Memorial Day weekend.  We only spent a brief time there yesterday, and that mostly at the Women’s military monument.  Today we’d see the rest.

We entered through these fancy gates and stopped first at the Memorial Amphitheater, which is the site of the Memorial Day and Veterans’ Day ceremonies.  Dignitaries and the favored sit on the marble benches within the ring of flags.  Most of the action was yesterday when the Prez presented the wreath, so the place was empty today.  Loni’s trying to keep herself shaded in the stifling heat.

Adjacent to the Amphitheater is the Tomb of the Unknowns, where the wreath was presented.  The Tomb was established in 1921.  A sentinel of the Third U.S. Infantry maintains vigil around the clock, pacing 21 steps alongside the tomb, pausing for 21 seconds, and then returning.  The changing of the guard takes place every half-hour March through September, then every hour the rest of the year.  Interestingly, the unknown soldier from Vietnam was disinterred in 1998 when he was identified through an advanced DNA process.

We then hiked over to the Kennedy gravesite, which lies at the foot of Arlington House on the hill beyond.  Bobby’s grave is off to the left of the tree at the left of the pic, and is marked by a simple white cross.

Arlington House is now the Robert E. Lee memorial, and therein lies a tale.  It originally was built (1802-1818) as a memorial to George Washington by George Washington Parke Custis, the grandson of Martha by her first marriage, but who was raised (after his parents’ deaths) by George and Martha as their son.  Thus he was George’s stepson while being Martha’s grandson.  The house was the centerpiece of Custis’ 1100 acre plantation.  In 1831, Custis’ only surviving child, Mary, married the then Lieutenant Robert E. Lee, and they resided at Arlington House for 30 years until he resigned his commission and moved south to head the Confederate Army.  U.S. federal troops then occupied the house as a headquarters.  D.C. became flooded with dead soldiers from the war, and by the end of it there were nearly 16,000 dead buried on the old plantation.  So, that’s how the memorial to the rebel commander sits perched in the catbird seat above the National Cemetery.

We kept wandering around, enjoying the grounds, but were sobered by what they held.  Real heroes. 

By mid-afternoon we were hungry and thirsty, so we headed back into town and decided to check out the Newseum, repository of five centuries of news history and technology.  Since the place has so much to see, a ticket is good for two consecutive days, a good deal since we were getting there late in the afternoon.  We decided to not try for the exhibits today, but rather to look the place over generally and to catch the views from the top level gallery.  They were pretty darn good.

Of course, we had to mug for the camera as well.  Loni’s holding her “just-in-case” umbrella.

Looking the other way down Pennsylvania Avenue is the headquarters of my old outfit, the Federal Trade Commission, with its iconic statues of the heroic FTC-er reining in the runaway horse of free-market capitalism.  Or something.  Whatever.

Closing time was coming up, so we skedaddled for the metro to beat the 5:00 rush.  We had to get groceries on the way back, since the scoot is still laid up in Annapolis.  Fortunately, there is a grocery store on the route the bus takes from the metro terminus to our park.  All we had to do was to get our shopping done in time to make the next bus back home.  Mission accomplished.

ROLLING THUNDER

May 27, 2012     After our disastrous Friday, we spent yesterday as a down day around the rig.  Lazy breakfast, read the Washington Post, gave each other haircuts (drawing quizzical looks from passersby), laundry, and sponging bugs off the rig (no full washing allowed).  The park emptied out a lot on Thursday, but its starting to fill up again and is projected to be full for the Memorial Day celebration.  Dinner was spaghetti & meat sauce.

Today, Sunday, we took our usual transit downtown to watch the Rolling Thunder parade of motorcycles.  This has become an annual event, and we even thought of participating on the scoot (Rolling Thimble?) but the breakdown squelched that idea.  Probably would have been not a very good idea, as we would have been, as late entries, at the back of the pack.  And how big was that pack?  Try a quarter of a million bikes.  Yup, 250,000 were scheduled!  They start out at the Pentagon, where they stage, then follow a set route down Constitution Avenue, the Capitol, and finish at the Tidal Basin area.

Of course, the metro picked this weekend to shut our primary line for repairs at one point, so we had to bus to a more distant station, ride a few stops, bus to another station, then finish on the metro to downtown.  The parade had long started by the time we got there, but not to worry, the endless flow of bikes, mostly Harleys, was slowly streaming by.

Many of the bikes were decked out with real or pseudo patriotic regalia:

As you can imagine, a little of this goes a long way.  I made a brief video, which seems to have a freeze-glitch at the 12 second mark; just move your mouse around a bit to get it moving.  After 45 minutes or so, we’d had enough.  It was very hot and the parade was just more of the same.  We decided to bail and head to a museum.  We hadn’t finished with the National Gallery of Art so we went back there.  I’ll be merciful and spare you:  no more pics of paintings.  After we had spent another 2 1/2 hours at the museum, we came out to find the parade still going on as if we hadn’t left it.  These weren’t bikes making multiple passes;  everyone got one go-round.  But 250,000 cycles takes a l-o-o-o-o-o-ng time to pass.  With the heat, we just had a big dinner salad once we got home.  Lettuce, potatoes, beans, squash, broccoli, red pepper, onion, tomato, and crumbled bacon.  Yumm.  We’re running low on groceries, so we’ll have to figure out how to go shopping without the scoot.

Monday was Memorial Day and the temps in D.C. got close to 100.  Our indoor rig thermometer registered 97!  A traditional parade was planned for the afternoon, so we decided to spend the morning at Arlington cemetery.  Again with the repairs to the metro, it took us 1 1/2 hours to get there. 

We arrived at Arlington to find the roads closed and tons of police all over.  Aha!  Of course, today’s when the President places a wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier.  As we were making our way on foot, his motorcade swung out and came down the avenue right next to us.  Loni says she saw him waving at us, but as I was working the camera I didn’t catch it.  What an ugly limo.

We started our visit at the new Women In Military Service For America Memorial, which is located in the building at the end of the boulevard on which the President is traveling above.

and set out to find an entry about Mom, who served as a Wave in WWII, stationed in Jacksonville, Florida at the Naval Air Station.  They have a raft of keyboard/monitor stations where you can type in the pertinent info and locate your veteran.  Took a couple of tries, and some asking at the desk, but we got it to work and, voila!  There she was.

We ended up buying a bunch of WAVE-related trinkets, and a copy of this posting, and gave them to Mom and Christmas.

We gave up on the rest of the cemetery for today.  It was brutally hot, and we had to walk back to downtown for the parade.  We started hoofing it, but bailed on that idea as we passed the entrance to the metro, and took that instead.  We established our beachhead on the curb, and settled in to view the parade. 

It pretty much was a larger-scale version of what you’d see at any parade in the country.

Lots of marching formations,

bands galore from high school to military, period costumes, vehicles looking like they just escaped from the Red Square,

and my favorite, always, the bagpipes.

The grand marshal of the parade was good old Chuck Yeager, an American icon if ever there was one.

Then the usual grab bag:  astronaut Buzz Lightyear Aldrin, a B-52 flyover, and the reviewing stand.  And stand they did, for the whole dang thing.

We cut out before the end in order to beat the mob back to the metro, and made it back to the rig in good time.  Loni made flounder with a carrot risotto, washed down with COLD beer!  God bless America.

BREAKDOWN!

May 25, 2012       A day that will live in infamy!  The weekly events rag told us that this was graduation week at Annapolis.  While we could not get into the actual grad ceremony, the public was welcome at a dress parade to be held today.  We debated trying to get there via public transit, but abandoned that as too cumbersome.  We decided to take the scoot.  Our only reluctance was the weather.  Scattered thunderstorms were forecast.  So, we packed our ponchos and overalls raingear and hit the road.  With the help of Google and AAA, I plotted out a route that hopefully we could follow and which avoided freeways.  About 30 miles or so, we figured an hour would do it.  This was our first significant ride since I, uh, dumped us in the Santa Monica mountains, so Loni was a little wary at first.  But all went well, and we cruised into the brick streets of Old Annapolis . . . until the scoot sputtered, caught, sputtered, and d-i-e-d.  There being no hood to pop, I crouched and gave it the good stare.  I thought I’d let it cool, and then retry to fire.  Nope.  It would cough and die.  Repeatedly.  This is not good.

Fortunately, I had done two things before setting out on this trip.  I added the scoot to our Coachnet road service policy, and I bought our first smartphone, an iPhone 4.  I was still a rookie at using it, but I went online and searched for Vespa dealers.  There were only two within 50 miles, but one of them was right here in Annapolis.  Hooray!  I phoned them up, explained the situation, and asked if they could take us in.  The nice gal said yes, although unsure how much could be done on a Friday afternoon during grad week.  They didn’t have a fetching truck of their own, but she gave me the names of two tow companies that they use.  I called the closest one and gave them our location and made sure they understood that it was a scooter.  About a half hour later, he comes rumbling down the street and, miraculously, finds parking just beyond us.  We had to push the scoot up onto the flatbed, which wasn’t flat at this point.

I had to hold it at the top while the driver jumped down to fiddle with the tie-down straps.  He had a lot of trouble figuring out how to secure it, and finally admitted he was fairly new and had only hauled motorcycles, never a scooter.  After a lot of fumbling, he finally got it tied to his satisfaction.  I was dubious, and said so, but he said this would work just fine.  We piled in and rode with him to the cycle shop.

All went well, with me craning back to check on the scoot’s stability as we drove along.  We reached the shop’s driveway, and made a sharp turn into it.  BANG!  I looked back through the window and did not see the scoot.  He stopped immediately, uttered a low, unintelligible curse, and we got out.  The scoot had fallen over, but was still on the platform.  But, the fairing had landed edge-on to the side rail of the bed, and now sported a nice gash-dent where the impact point was.  The side pod was further dented (old readers will recall that I dropped the scoot off the back of the RV), the left brake handle was bent, the left marker light was demolished, and who knows what internal injuries.  The driver couldn’t stop apologizing, begged me to let him pay for the damage and not tell his employer, etc. etc.  I said we’d have to first let the shop sort it out.  He lowered the bed and I backed the scoot down and off.  He then “helped” push it to the shop.  In doing so he broke the plastic gripper that keeps the folding carrier in the open position.  Why didn’t he just shoot the scoot?  It would be a quicker death.

The shop guy came out to look it over.  He hit the starter and . . . it fired right up, and kept running!  WHA?  He took it for a brief ride and then into the shop.  About a half hour later he comes out and says we have a busted fuel pump.  Estimated cost:  hundreds of dollars.  Oh, and he doesn’t have one in stock.  We went outside to mull our options, like, go get the rig and pile the dead scoot on it.  The mechanic came out and told us he had some good news.  He was researching the part, and found that there had been a recall for these pumps.  Apparently, Vespa tried to save money by having them built in China, and the Chinese manufacturer used some plastic part that was subject to meltdown.  So, the repair would be free, but he’d still have to order a replacement from Atlanta.  Over Memorial Day weekend.  From order to complete fix, he estimated a week.  We were due to be moving on in a week, so we told him to go ahead.

That left us lost in Annapolis;  actually, lost on the outskirts of Annapolis as we were in the boonies in a commercial park.  The guys at Chesapeake Cycles couldn’t have been nicer.  The manager went online and researched bus routes, and found us one that would get us to the nearest terminus of the metro system.  Unfortunately, its nearest stop was a couple of miles away.  No problem, he gets out his own truck and drives us over to the spot.  He wasn’t too sure which side of the street we should be on, but said to ask around.  We thanked him and got out.  Well, none of the signs seemed to indicate the line he had identified.  We walked around to see if there were nearby stops, and went in to two businesses to ask, but no one had heard of it.  We finally found a stop that had multiple bus line signs, including an old one that had our company’s name on it, but a different route number.  I used the iPhone to google the company, found a website with a number, and called them.  The person who answered just said “hello.”  I asked for the company.  He said they’re out of business.  “AUGH",” I said, or words to that effect.  He then told me that they were a new company that had taken over the old one’s route.  After explaining what we needed, he directed us to a stop about a half mile away, and gave us the only remaining pick-up time that afternoon, about an hour away.  We hoofed it down the road, found the stop, and settled in.  We had no idea what the bus would look like, so we were hopping up and down as an assortment of city and private buses/vans came by this stop.  Finally, about 20 minutes late, one of those airport shuttle-type vehicles (like take you to remote parking lots) pulled up with the right name on it and we got on.  I have to say, I felt we were in the third world as far as the casual nature of this operation.  People standing up talking with the driver the whole time.  The driver himself a teenaged kid.  An eclectic clientele.  A bus that, while fairly clean, had seen better days.  Beggars can’t be choosers.  We were happy to be heading in relatively the right direction.  We must have traveled an hour and a half, both city streets and freeway, before getting to the New Carrolton metro terminus.  We then made our way back, changing trains, and catching the park bus home.

This had been our most frustrating day of all our travels.  But, if this is the worst, I can’t complain too much.  Loni made a “leftovers hash” for dinner (a whole lot tastier than it sounds), and I bought a tub of peach ice cream at the park store.  All, gradually, is well.  But it’s strange not to see the scoot parked outside.

WE ‘OD ON ART

May 24, 2012     We got a lazy start this morning, but that just meant there were fewer people on the metro when we did head to town.  We decided to do the West building of the National Gallery of Art, which houses more traditional things for the most part.  We were seriously overdosing on paintings after a few hours.  It’s hard to appreciate these works when they’re piling on in gallery after gallery.  That said, it was a gluttonous feast.  The sailing piece is Winslow Homer, of course.  The shark attack is by John Singleton Copley (1778) and supposedly portrayed a real story – the would-be victim later became the Lord Mayor of London.

There seem to be certain paintings that capture your attention.  This is one that I really liked, mostly for the expression on her face and her languid posture and flowing gown.  It’s by John Singer Sargent, painted towards the latter part of his life (1911) after he became tired of doing the usual portraits.

Loni particularly liked this bronze tableau.

Three more that piqued my interest.  The shipwreck is by Claude Joseph Vernet (1772), the trio is by Sir Henry Raeburn (1792), and I’m pulling a blank on the man and girl.

We broke for lunch and ate in the museum at the Garden Café.  Pretty pricey for such mundane surroundings, but it was convenient.  I had some sort of fish and white bean concoction (on the right), but god only knows what Loni was eating.  She thinks it had peppers and root veggies, but can’t really remember.  She does think it was delicious.  

After lunch, we had fuel to get back to the galleries and more paintings.  This time, I actually wrote on a scrap of paper what struck my fancy.  Clockwise, from upper left:  “Madame Picasso” (1923), “Botticelli’s “Guiliano de’Medici” (1499), “Gallery of the Louvre” by Samuel F. B. Morse (yes, that Morse), the only DaVinci painting in America, his portrait of Ginevra dd’Benci (1474-78), bust of Lorenzo de’Medici (unknown), bust of Guiliano de’Medici by Veirocchio (1475).  I was fascinated by the portrait and the bust of Guilliano, as each artist captured the same sense of smug hautiness that must have pervaded the man.

Below is another that intrigued me.  Georges de la Tour’s “The Repentant Magdalene” (1640).  The placement of the light source behind the skull, the diaphanous sleeves, and her pensive expression were brilliant.

Loni began to get a migraine from the air conditioning, which was working overtime, so we left.  As soon as we got outside into the 85 degree/90% humidity weather she was cured.  We walked around for a while, but were frustrated by the closed mall.

About the only thing we could get close to was the Capitol Building, which looked pretty nice with the blue sky/white clouds background.  They were setting up in front of it for the concert they were going to have on Memorial Day.

Walking back to the metro, we stumbled onto a Gordon Biersch brewpub and decided to get out of the heat and have an early dinner.  Best thing on the menu appeared to be their burgers.  We rarely eat ‘em, but go whole hog when we do.  Garlic fries, good slaw.  The beer wasn’t bad, either!