The last resort
Getaway or not, mineral collecting in New York
by Sally Cragin
Occasionally Hollis the Mountain Man craves the comfort of human contact -- and
the local news not printed in the Tritown Bugle. At such times, he
ambles down the Mountain Lair's dirt road to visit his nearest neighbors, the
Tarbox family of Tarbox Automotive ("Collisions? A Specialty").
He finds Hasky Tarbox senior tilting back in a broken wooden swivel chair and
smoking a cheroot. The legs of Hasky junior protrude from beneath a Volvo
that's more paint than metal, and more rust than paint. Leaning against the
garage door, wearing a smudged beige smock, and a resigned expression is
$erena, the waitress at Happy's Coffee and Qwik-Stop Cafe.
"What went this time?" asks Hollis.
From beneath the car he hears, "Cracked oil pan," and then Tarbox junior
scoots out. "Damn lift's broke again," he says and in a quieter voice adds,
"plus Dad's too fat to get under the cars anymore." Sometimes Hollis
suspects that Hasky deliberately skrews up the repairs of $erena's car just to
get her back in the garage again, but they've been dating in public for the
past six months, so the Volvo's automotive difficulties must be genuine.
One of the essential components of living in the country is a reliable pair
of
wheels, and if they're not reliable, then a dependable mechanic, Hollis thinks.
City folk get soft with their public buses and walkable distances. Years
earlier, his Uncle Wilton was only able to live in the Mountain Lair during the
winter because he had tricked-out a Model T with sled runners. Hollis's
vehicles were similarly eccentric. After years of driving beaters and winter
rats, he got a real truck and found the experience life-changing. Having the
means to get away, even if you never got away, was as good as a vacation.
For the most part, however, Tritownies are content to stay put. This year
Tarbox senior's missus dragged him down to Atlantic City for a gambling weekend
to celebrate their 35th anniversary. And last year $erena, who plays the oboe,
had been to Washington, DC with the school band. As for Hasky junior, he had
hitchhiked to Florida the day he graduated from Tritown High, spent a few days
drunk on the beach where he boiled redder than a lobster, and slept in the bus
all the way back north. No, Tritownies don't travel well.
Still, Hollis couldn't resist. "Going anywhere this year?" he asks coyly.
"Hah," scoffs the young people in the garage. "Just the camp," says Tarbox
senior.
Many stay-at-home Tritownies own a shack, cottage, or bungalow on or near a
body of water that's located three miles or so from home, usually in the next
town. This provides all the pleasure of a change of scenery without the
inconveniences of actual traveling. One can go to work as usual, but come home
to an idyllic lake setting, eat barbecue every night, and go to sleep listening
to the chirp of the crickets and the persistent whine of the mosquitoes that
always get in through a gap in the sagging window screen.
"Sounds nice," says Hollis, whose home near Picture Pond makes everyone think
his life is thoroughly relaxing year-round.
"I'd like to go to the Cape," says $erena. "But there's no way in this
car."
"You need a little red sports car," suggests a besotted Tarbox junior.
"A convertible!" sighs $erena. "I'd feel like I was on vacation just driving
around."
There is silence, and then Hasky Tarbox junior slides back under the Volvo.
Several hammer taps are heard, and then the screech of ripping metal. Hasky
emerges, brandishing a blackened, dented object. "I'd really like to go to
Sweden," he says mildly.
"Sweden?!" squeals $erena.
"And find the quality-control officer of this particular car," he continues.
"And make him get me drunk enough to be able to FIGURE THIS DAMN THING OUT!"
THE SECRET TO A QUALITY one-day getaway is moderate driving time, no change of
clothes, and a certain element of exotica at the other end. Leave early, arrive
home late, and savor every hour.
A climb up Mt. Monadnock will make you feel like you've gone a
long ways away, especially when you reach the summit and can gaze into
three states (New Hampshire, Vermont, and Mass.). There are steep,
rock-clambering trails, and prolonged hiking trails with a gradual ascent. Wear
shoes with ankle support and don't forget the bottled water.
See the ocean, nap on the sand. Drive to the North or South Shore, but
not deep into the Cape. The advantage of the North Shore is Woodman's
Clam Shack, in Ipswich. With our valley topography, it's easy for Tritownies to
get used to feeling hemmed in -- a visit to the seashore and gazing at far
horizons will refresh claustrophobics.
Visit the Butterfly Place, in Westford. Pay one price and you can stay
all day in the phenomenal glass atrium where a winding path undulates through a
very convincing ersatz tropical rain forest filled with zebras, morphos,
cecropia moths, and other winged wonders. Once you arrive, you won't want to
leave. (120 Tynsboro Rd., 392-0955)
The following destination is a three-hour drive from Tritown and points
south,
so it could be a one-day getaway, but that's stretching it. Figure on camping
or staying in a motel nearby, and plan for a two-day jaunt at the glorious
Crystal Grove Diamond Mine and Campground, in St. Johnsville, New York.
Although an hour west of Albany off the Thruway (Route 90), it's worth the haul
if you have budding geologists or crystal fanciers in your family.
This part of New York state is not a typical tourist destination (Lake George
is far to the north, and the Catskills to the south) but is quite picturesque
and nicely underpopulated. You'll find farms, lakes and hiking, and even some
Amish communities. But hold out for the minerals.
At Crystal Grove, you'll find a forest and a meadow with a dolomite ledge
exposed. (Dolomite is a mineral similar to limestone, with one crucial
addition.) The ledge isn't spectacular or anything, just a boring,
elephant-gray kind of rock, but a closer look reveals a thick seam of quartz
crystals. Sometimes the crystals appear in rounded cavities and resemble split
geodes.
These gems are clear as window-glass, but the clincher for a collector or
jewelry-maker is that many of these quartz crystals are what's referred to as
"doubly terminated." Unlike most crystals, which have one end plugged into the
rock, these have separated and have two nicely-faceted ends. Some are an inch
long, others are a centimeter or less, but you're guaranteed to find them.
Geologists still don't understand why this particular bit of rock -- which
extends all the way west to Herkimer -- yielded up double-terminated crystals.
How to get at them? Bring a crack hammer, a trowel, and a gardening claw, or
rent this stuff for a buck or so at the Rock Shop. There's plenty of broken
rock lying around to sift, in case you don't want to bother banging the rocks.
(Although this is a worthy activity for a hyperactive youngster; just insist on
safety goggles.)
Send a SASE for a Crystal Grove brochure, 161 County Highway 114, St.
Johnsville, New York 13452. For more information call (518) 568-2914.
Sally Cragin teaches "Nature Writing and Memoir" at Ritter Library, in
Lunenburg on August 18 to 21.