Friday, April 11, 2008

And it's Ho! Let’s Go to Wellsville NY!!

I’ve not been there for 61 years, at least.

It’s so easy.

QEW to Lewiston, I-190 to 219 to Genesee (roughly), East to 19, South to Wellsville.

A doddle.

Usual hassle at the border. US Immigration seem to forget that they are the front-line ambassadors for tourism, and hassle any 61-year old who, after checking with the border guard, tries to park to use the public washrooms. Instead I set off down I-190 with a full bladder. Great it was to be bursting for a pee on a high-speed highway after waiting to cross at the border.

Here is a URL to Google maps: http://tinyurl.com/5gw8fk

We stopped in Boston for lunch; big surprise for Ms B, who had casually mentioned on Wednesday that she’d like to go to Boston. Nothing easier, I thought. Take the Rice Road exit off the 219 out of Buffalo.

We lunched at the Three Girls diner. Great food. Lousy spelling right across the (printed) menu and the Daily Specials white board. Great food, but. And they can’t count. There were five girls serving.

Was Ms B impressed about “Lunch in Boston” at such short notice? Not really. She’s getting used to it.

After lunch, East along Genesee, which morphs into Telegraph, to Pike, and then south down #19 all the way to Wellsville, excepting for the road construction detour around the 417 crossover.

Here we are in the lobby of the Microtel in Wellsville NY. Inflation has reached the adhesive labels, but not the more permanent labels. As I usually do, I popped in quarters to retrieve a local paper, only to find it is yesterday’s paper. Spent a pleasant two minutes perusing the movies I might have watched had I been here last night.

Microtel motels look like this on their web pages. They look like this in real life too. An experiment, on our part, having had the occasional less-than-satisfactory experience at some of the big chains, and on learning that the Olean Microtel was booked out, I reserved two nights here. I’m glad we did.

The motel was cheap ($150 for two nights, and that included federal, state and local taxes!) and clean. The room was smaller than the bigger chains – only one queen size bed instead of two, no lounge chair, but we use it only as a place to change clothes, shower, and sleep, so who cares?

I spent the money we saved on meals in classy restaurants in downtown Wellsville.

We dined at the Beef Haus. Not a German Wurst in sight. Or on site, either.

I had seen “Pulled Pork” on the menu in Boston, and it was on the menu at Beef Haus. So I had it. It was not bad (shredded pork with a serving of beans), but it is not on my have-to-have-again list.

Wellsville lies in a valley. I know that it lies in a valley; it is surrounded by hills that rise 600 to 800 feet above the town. As I wandered the cloudy streets Saturday morning I was reminded of Prince Rupert B.C. The view above is from outside the motel, on the bridge across the culverted stream.

The main street is dead. At first we suspected that a Wal-Mart had opened recently, but none was in sight. There is a Tops, a K-mart and a Walgreen’s, but nothing to suggest the vacuum-like effect of a new Wal-Mart. Wal-Mart towns are readily identifiable by the high proportion of service businesses that have taken over retail space – dog-groomers, lawyers, palmists, health-and-family care, and so on.

It looked like a field day for a fire hall reunion. Each appliance has its name above the doorway of its garage spot.

McEwen

Genesee

Tanker

Emerald

Dear old 2-M-6. Is this the fire chief’s truck?

Saturday morning, after our first breakfast at Texas Hots, we headed South, down #19, crossed the Pennsylvania border and headed for Gold. At Gold I screamed “Slow Down! Hang a right!!”, and then continued with “Slow Down!” until we zoomed right past the watershed sign. I made Ms B back up so that I could take a photo. I am so North American now.

This is the watershed between the Gulf of Mexico and the Atlantic. To the east of this spot lies the Susquehanna basin. Waters to the North flow through the Finger Lakes region.

Here is the view to the West. Over that small rise lies the Allegheny, the goal of this trip. For me.

Pausing only to check the grammar, and possibly the semantic antics of the cemetery sign, …

Oh yes. Here’s another shot of the watershed. The trailer parked here shows up in Google Earth. Been there a while ….

Here’s a screen snapshot from Google Earth. There’s the trailer. Near the top-right you see the shadow cast by the watershed sign. In the lower and centre-right, a small stream decides to make its way to Chesapeake Bay via the beautiful Susquehanna.

Ta da! Heading further west, about 400 yards, we crest another rise and the Allegheny river valley is laid out before us. “Welcome” the sign says “to the Allegheny watershed”.

Away in the distance a car is being driven across the river, and the driver is too ignorant to stop, get out, and kiss the ground. Tut Tut!

Here is a shot of Ms B during her “You can’t be serious” phase.

Here is a shot of me, having leaped the Alleghany river for the first time this day; the fifth time in my life. Clearly visible is the impact of eating breakfast at Texas Hots in Wellsville. Behind me is what I believe to be the first contributing tributary to the Allegheny River.

Here is a shot of me demonstrating my finesses in leaping back. Points earned for artistic merit?

Here is a shot of Ms B during her “OK. Now get me back” phase. She was not required to spit in the Alleghany, but I did, spit. So now if anyone asks me if I’ve ever been to New Orleans I can reply “Part of me has!”.

The marker at the creek, North side of #449 east of Coudersport.

East of the first sign is the second sign.

Ho hum. On to Coudersport. We had a nice cup of tea & coffee cake in a local café, then wandered outside to take a shot of what we thought was the biggest building in town.

Home of the failed Rigas empire Adelphia. I failed to take a photo, but you can read about the corporate headquarters building here and here .

Above and below are two shots of the dead main street.

Coudersport PA is a prime example of what I call a red-brick town. Twenty years ago these were marvelous places to wander on a weekend morning or afternoon. Lots of small shops with friendly local owners; time to chat, purchase the odd book, and wander into the next store.

Today so many of the towns are dead; they are not much fun for a stroll.

Above you can count the empty stores. Sad. Terribly sad.

We left Coudersport and drove West and North to Olean, on the (drum roll) Alleghany. Ms B wanted to “pop in” to The Bon Ton department store. I sulked until I found a Mr. Black from Wellsville, sitting on a bench in the mall. He filled me in on some of the aspects of Wellsville that I had missed.

We drove back to Wellsville along #417. Forty-five minutes.

Supper at Italia. Very nice. Cheerful and accommodating staff.

The motel room has a window seat. I lay down on it when we arrived. Nice touch!

The room is small by most chain standards, although we didn’t trip over each other. Here is a shot from the window to the doorway to the corridor.

The same guy/firm owns Dunkin Donuts, so all too often you’ll find a Dunkin Donuts sharing the Microtel property. Sunday morning I walked across to the store in light snow. Ugh!

Wellsville has a movie theatre that still shows, well, shows. Note the service storefronts creeping into the main street.

On the Saturday I visited the local library. Impressive building from the outside. Even more impressive on the inside. The reference collection was astounding.

I played with the huge globe (on “gimbals”?) until I was dragged kicking and screaming to the outside world. Very friendly library staff.

Ms B wanted a shot of The Pink House. I decided to take a shot of the house opposite, which looks like a prototype for The Pink House.

… and then took a shot of the rear of the library, across the creek. Well, Genesee River, actually. The Genesee flows north through Letchworth State Park and the Mount Morris dam.

OK. Above is my shot of The Pink House. Now go here and compare the second photo on that site with my photo (above). You can see that the seasonal change shows a difference. You know that I was there just last weekend. How come the car is still parked there?

Behind The Pink House are two other Pink buildings. Looks to me like the servants quarters and the gatekeepers cottage.

And so out of Wellsville and north up #19 to Letchworth State Park. We paid our $6 and headed for the Glen Iris Inn. A small herd (flock?) of deer surprised us as much as we surprised them. About a dozen skipped across our path. (I forgot to mention the eagles on Higway 19, on Friday and again on Sunday; idiot-like I didn’t have my camera out of the bag, so we cruised past saying “Ooh!” and “Ah!”).

Movie (290 KB) deer skipping across the road.

Outside the Inn, the fountain merrily builds and destroys its own ice-sculpture.

Movie (979 KB) The falls are spectacular. Niagara they are not, but close you are!

Above is a shot taken from the level of the Inn. A path leads down to the observation platform.

Here is the front of the Inn.

Spring is being sprung!

The dining-room was near-empty, but since we made the mistake of asking for a cup of tea or coffee, we were shown the two easy chairs in the gift shop. I refused to sip tea while being stared at, so I went outside to sulk. Ms B went to the washroom to sulk. I have trouble understanding a management style that risks losing custom and goodwill by being inflexible. Who knows? Had we been seated at a table, we might have elected to choose a light salad, or a dessert. Or both. Their loss.

Movie (1,769 KB) I lucked out and saw a freight train crossing the high trestle bridge above the Upper falls. The movie doesn’t do it justice. It looked like a scene from Medina .

Movie (1,731 KB) The Gorge.

And so we drove slowly down the 20-mile park. The grass is green, but the trees were bare. More deer. We start at them. They stare at us. A few scamper across the road. We all stare. They win. I drive on …..

The gorge is spectacular; there are many spots where one can park and observe.

And so home. Here we are at the Fort Erie Peace Bridge crossing.

Odd, but when you enter the U.S.A. the kiosks are surmounted with colorful flags of the states of the U.S.A. You are entering the United States, see, and there are fifty of them, flags-all-a-waving-welcome.

But when you enter Canada you get a couple of thirty-inch high red plastic maple leafs that weren’t selling too well in the souvenir shop.

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