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August 15 - 22, 1 9 9 7
[Tales From Tritown]

The last resort

Getaway or not, mineral collecting in New York

by Sally Cragin

[Tritown] 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.


The Tales From Tritown archive


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