Weekend at Bernie's

I recently listened to a podcast where the son of internationally famous negotiator and bestselling author Herb Cohen described his father's stories from his Brooklyn childhood. In particular, he was impressed with the colorful characters who populated those stories. Herb's son said, 

"I grew up with stories. It was very romantic and exciting for me ’cause I grew up outside of Chicago, very suburban. And when I talked about my friends on my block, they were Todd, Mark, Dennis, Jamie, Chris. When my father talked about his friends on his block, they were Inky, Sheppo, Hoo-ha, Gutter Rat, who was called that even by his own mother, ..."

I smiled when I heard that, since my Brooklyn childhood friends include The Curl, Penaldo,  Goonobs and his younger brother Junior Goo, along with four Greek brothers, two whom went by their Greek nicknames, Kostaiykee (my transliteration) and Dmitri, while the other two were The Elder Statesman and The Walrus. The group of us formed a core of a more extended gang of neighborhood friends, hanging out in the Greeks' backyard (they and Goonobs lived next door to each other, so there was kind of critical mass at their houses), shooting hoops, tinkering with cars, playing drinking games, and so on.

I'm providing this history in an attempt to provide an idea of the depth of such Brooklyn street friendships. Herb Cohen stayed lifelong friends with his Brooklyn pals (who included Larry King and Sandy Koufax - what a group!), and even though I don't see my friend Charles (a.k.a. Goonobs) very often, when he invited me to his 60th birthday celebration, I immediately said yes even though it meant a six hour drive each way.

Charles is one of my few friends who has stayed in Brooklyn all these years, but he has also recently become the owner of a somewhat rundown farmhouse on 90 lovely acres in the Southern Tier of New York State - basically the middle of nowhere about a half hour from Oneonta. I will not go into the whole story of how Charles came to own this place, except to say that it was yet another well meaning idea hatched by his father Bernie, who has always been and at age 85 remains a major force in his sons' lives. You can see Bernie in his prime here.

The drive up through Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New York was uneventful - it's a pretty non-descript part of the country - and before I knew it I found myself turning onto the steep gravel driveway that leads up to the house. I must say, the place presents well when you first pull up. The setting is lovely - the house and barn are sheathed in rustic native hickory planking, there's a pond, and just lovely greenery all around. Also, from the driveway you can't see the two derelict RV campers Bernie has dragged onto the property to serve as additional housing. For a Brooklyn-born Jewish guy, Bernie has a remarkably redneck sensibility.

The barn

The house

The pond

Bernie, who splits his time between New York and Florida, makes frequent trips up to the farm and is actively involved with renovations on the property (have I mentioned that he's 85?). Unfortunately, he tends to go for the cheap and quick over real quality - like I said, he's a city boy with redneck building ideas. As I walked up to the house I immediately stumbled across (almost literally) a Bernie-ism. To accommodate Charles' mom, who uses a mobility scooter, Bernie had installed a handicap ramp up to the front entrance - but not the sturdy metal or concrete kind of ramp I see around my neighborhood. No, this is some bright yellow plastic ramp which is slippery and sags when you walk on it, and which is also about a foot too short, so it's supplemented with some wood pieces. Both sides of the ramp have what are I guess are intended to be handrails, made of sections of aluminum fencing roughly sawn to the right length. Neither Charles nor his brother like this jury-rigged handicap ramp, but their dad is a force of nature who basically does what he wants.

When you enter the house you discover that (a) it came with the first floor fully furnished - in fact, overfurnished, (b) Charles and his family have moved a bunch of additional stuff into it, and (c) everything is moved around because parts of the place are under renovation. The result is that there's the feeling, at least for someone like me who doesn't like clutter, of way too much stuff crammed into the space. My understanding is that the place in its current state is much improved over how they found it, bt it's still pretty stuffed with stuff. Whew.

If this living room had less stuff in it it would be quite nice

While the first floor is in good shape and will be quite nice once the clutter is pared down a bit, the upstairs had basically been abandoned by the previous owner and is in a terrible state of disrepair. Up a very steep and narrow staircase you find yourself in rooms which have 1940's (or thereabouts) wallpaper - at least where there's still plaster on the walls. It appears that at some point there was significant water incursion which caused major damage to the walls and ceilings. In some places the ceiling has been stabilized with duct tape, while in others everything has just crumbled down to the studs. Add in the low gable ceilings and the overall first impression is pretty creepy. But if you take a breath (preferably through a respirator - I'm guessing there's mold aplenty up there) and look around, you see that with some work, it all could be lovely - and probably will be, after a period of work.

Upstairs bedrrom

The upstairs master bedroom

The barn is also interesting. You could say the old farmer (the most recent owner's father) was a frugal country guy, or you could say he was a hoarder, but boy, he crammed a lot of stuff into his barn. Old furniture, baby carriages, a TV set from the 1940's, .22 ammo, tools, and so on and so on. Parts of the barn were built as chicken coops, and there's still 70 year old chicken poop in them. There's a loft filled with stuff. The main barn is filled with stuff. The chicken coops are filled with stuff. Exploring the barn is one of those things that's kind of fascinating and scary at the same time. There are a lot of interesting and potentially valuable things, but also - omigod, So. Much. Stuff. But isn't it cool to have a barn?!

Barn - main area

Barn photo

The worst of the chicken coop area

In terms of sleeping arrangements, I chose to stay in the larger of the two campers - the one without water damage to the sleeping area. Staying in the camper was a little more civilized than my other alternative, the crumbly, moldy upstairs bedrooms, though still, Bernie-isms abounded. Power was supplied to the trailers by, in effect, a long extension cord running from the barn. The wire gauge seemed adequate for the load, which is good, but the cable just ran along the grass and had at least one big splice just sitting on the ground - potentially dangerous in the rain, or even if someone tripped over it! I tried turning the water supply (a garden hose run from the house) to the trailer on, but shut it off when water began to mysteriously appear on the trailer's kitchen floor (meaning no water or toilet without walking back to the house). The built-in lights  and fan in the trailer didn't work (maybe they're on the 12V power circuit?), but the outlets did so lighting was supplied by a couple of thrift store table lamps plugged into the outlets. I've got to say, it was still much more civilized than sleeping in a tent, but it was a few clicks short of a 5-star rating.

My accommodations

So, what did we do all weekend? Not a lot, but plenty. I rarely get to see Charles and hadn't seen his brother in over thirty years, so we had a lot of catching up to do. Friday afternoon we went on a walk around part of the property - he hasn't explored the whole place yet. Friday night Charles' friend Ed arrived. We made a fire in the chimenea and sat outside and enjoyed the evening (much cooler than in DC this time of year!). Saturday we had planned to go paddling at a nearby lake, but the birthday boy decided he just wanted to relax.

On our walk. You can see the house down below. We are a ways from the edge of the property.

When we were kids, Charles and his brother had the reputation of being klutzy - if there was a way to hurt yourself or break something doing any activity, they'd find it. So, Saturday when Charles decided to go outside and play with his new shotgun, it worried me a little bit. OK, maybe more than a little bit. Meanwhile, his brother was engaged with trying to jury rig a connection between a propane tank and the BBQ grill using various parts cribbed from the trailers and found in the barn. I sat there wondering if I was going to die by an errant shotgun blast or propane explosion. I'm happy to report that neither of these things happened, and kudos to Charles for having the sense to hold off on intoxicants until he was done shooting.

You have no idea how scary this is

Mid-day Saturday our friend Sheri and her husband Ken (and their dog) showed up. Sheri has had an interesting life - at one time she dated Arlo Guthrie's tour bus driver. She traveled on tour with Arlo and mingled with all those old-line folkie musicians. Pete Seeger was on the invite list to her wedding (he didn't attend, but Sheri has saved a lovely personalized note from Pete's wife Toshi). I met Sheri when I was in college and she was dating a guitar player friend of mine. Over the years she's become very close with Charles and his family. But it's been maybe seven years since I've seen them, so we spent a bunch more time just kinda hanging around catching up.

Charles, Gordon and me

The brothers, Sheri and me

At one point we all decided to see if there were fish in the pond by dropping in a fishing line (Louisiana-raised Ken served as our fishing expert). Fishing became pretty boring pretty quickly - no bites - so we propped up the fishing pole on the dock and just sat in our chairs and relaxed, enjoying the scenery and some beverages. Our tranquility was eventually disturbed when a fish took the hook and swam away, pulling the fishing pole (which no one was holding by that point) into the water, causing Charles to jump in after it. Unfortunately, the fish got away, but we successfully determined that the pond has fish! We got another little nibble later on, but again the fish escaped. Charles had better luck with a fishing net he dropped into the pond, which netted (literally), a bunch of minnows, a handful of slightly larger fish (juvenile bass?), and a turtle (which fortunately we freed before it drowned).

Turtle upon release from the net

Fish from the pond

Ken and Sheri headed home around dark. The brothers and I made another fire and spent yet more time relaxing. Sunday morning we all packed up and got on the road pretty early. I wanted to get a jump on the long drive home, and the brothers were scheduled to meet up in the afternoon in Brooklyn with their father.

All told, a very nice weekend. The farm is a place with amazing potential, though I think Charles has his work cut out for him for the next decade or so. It was nice to catch up with old friends, and - contrary to my usual nature - just slow down and relax for a weekend. 

Mason Neck Lotuses

I launched my kayak from Mason Neck with two goals: (1) since it was lotus blossom season, to visit the grove of lotuses (can an area of water flowers be called a grove?) I discovered last year, and (2) to get in a ten mile paddle. It's hard for me to believe, but it's mid-July and I have neither broken ten miles on a paddle nor practiced rolling this year. Sheesh. Anyway, I succeed in my first goal, but there were so many distractions that I didn't nearly achieve the second (according to Strava my trip totaled 7.1 miles). 

There's not much to say about Mason Neck that I haven't said before, so this post will be mostly pictures. Mason Neck remains my favorite local place to paddle. The big, open bay, the birds in the wildlife refuge, the easy launch - all great. 

On this trip I didn't head across Belmont Bay towards the Occoquan (and therefore didn't check on my geocache). Rather, I followed the shoreline with the goal of heading to the lotuses and then out into the river. I was surprised on the paddle out that I saw not a single eagle, but they must just have been on coffee break or something, since on the way back I saw so many that I eventually gave up photographing them.

Sticking the nose of my boat into the lilies.

The lotus grove (or whatever it should be called) sits behind some breakwaters near where the bay opens out into the river. I was a week or so early - the lotuses were just starting to bloom - but with the lotus flowers and the water lilies, it was still pretty spectacular. The lotuses at Kenilworth Gardens are pink; these are yellow.

That bee appreciates the flowers too!

A sunny day - the flower looks illuminated.

After nosing around the lilies and looking at them from both sides of their extent (see, I avoided using the word "grove"), I continued on, around the corner into the river, where, it appeared, the eagles had finally shown up for work. There were a lot of eagles in immature plumage mussing around like the teenagers they are, plus plenty of eagles in mature plumage. Every once in a while an eagle would fly past low to the water like something out of Top Gun. I couldn't get pictures of these high speed maneuvers - by the time I'd get my camera out they'd be long gone - but it was fun to watch.

Here's a subset of my eagle photos. I didn't even bother photographing any other birds - heck, as I mentioned above, I couldn't even get all the eagles.

I think this is an immature bald eagle

Because I had spent so much time looking at flowers and birds, I turned around well before the five mile point. On the way back I stopped at the paddle-in campsite, which seems to be little used and poorly maintained. There are three campsites, each with a gravel pad. The whole place, including the campsite pads, is now overgrown with weeds. Two of the campsites site right next to each other, and the third is very close by as well. Best used by friends, or neighborly people. Up the hill there's a Portapotty, which means there must also be a road back to civilization. The landing area is a small beach. From the beach there are some crumbly steps up to the campsite, and a wood ramp which looks intended for people to slide their boats up to campsite level (there's really not enough room at the bottom to securely beach them).

I had brought my good camera with me (hence the better than usual eagle photos). This camera is not fully waterproof, but it is supposedly splash-proof - can get a little wet. I always carry the camera in a dry bag, but on this trip I was a little sloppier than usual about keeping water off it. It never got really wet, though. Still, when I got back to the launch I found that the viewfinder screen wasn't working. I thought I must have shorted the whole thing out. Plus, there was condensation inside the eyepiece. I figured the camera was toast. Fortunately, once it dried out it resumed working properly. Lesson-learned: splash-proof, not so much. I still managed to get a few pictures, including a little head sticking out of the marsh. I thought it was a frog, but was informed that it was a turtle.

Turtle (or maybe a frog) in the marsh by the put-in.

A snake which swam past my kayak,