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Wherever Books Are Sold!Boomer Travel. Food. Laughter. Breaking the Empty Nest Rules!
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Two-thirds of all the geysers in the world are within the borders of Yellowstone. Superheated water gushes… CONTINUE READING >>
Two-thirds
of all the geysers in the world are within the borders of
Yellowstone. Superheated water gushes hundreds of feet into
the air from some while others spout tiny bursts of steam.
In some spots, boiling
springs and pools of sulfur-rich water dwell next to pits of bubbling
mud called paint pots, all reeking like rotten eggs.
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Once the mighty Mississippi disappears in the rear view mirror, there’s not much to look at for the next thousand miles except corn. An insane amount of corn. It goes on and on and on and then, the corn turns to wheat. An ocean of wheat. Amber waves of grain. Then, a few hundred miles farther West, the wheat turns to tumbleweeds and we can drop the “mid,” we are in the West.To break up the monotony along the way, or perhaps because of it, there are signs. Millions of signs. This is the home field of the billboard. Every business garishly competes for attention. Out there, you’ve got to have a gimmick. See the World’s Largest this, five-legged that, First Ever this or two-headed that. Almost any collection becomes… CONTINUE READING >>
Once the mighty Mississippi disappears in the rear view mirror, there’s not much to look at for the next thousand miles except corn. An insane amount of corn.
It goes on and on and on and then, the corn turns to wheat. An ocean of wheat. Amber waves of grain. Then, a few hundred miles farther West, the wheat turns to tumbleweeds and we can drop the “mid,” we are now in the West.
To break up the monotony along the way, or perhaps because of it, there are signs. Millions of signs. This is the home field of the billboard.
Every business garishly competes for attention. Out there, you’ve got to
have a gimmick.
See the World’s Largest this, five-legged that, First Ever this or two-headed that. Almost any collection becomes a museum, farm implements, “bob” wire, cars, signs and… well, just about anything. Of course, some are more legitimate than others.
When we spied the signs for The Spam Museum in Austin, Minnesota, we jumped at the chance to canned-ham it up!
Like moths to a flame, soon we were pulling off the highway toward the light.
Situated right next to the Spam packing plant, the first thing we (or anybody with a working olfactory organ) noticed was the unique and not-so-savory smell.
A whole museum dedicated to a canned meat? Our wondering eyes had to see, we never pass up a cheesy tourist diversion.
Passing by the bronze pigs being led to slaughter, through the front doors, we were greeted by three thousand Spam cans stacked in a stunning display in the lobby.
This museum is no cheesy collection.
The Hormel folks have done a fine job of capturing the history of their preserved meat-food product through displays of packaging, ads and pop culture references.
See more photos ofthe Spam Museum
Hall after hall of the stuff while the infamous Monty Python Spam-Spam-Spam-Spam song plays over and over (and over) again. Ah memories… the dancing can ads, the smell of frying mystery meat, the bloody fingers nearly severed by the twist key top’s ribbon of razor sharp metal… good times.
Special attention is given to the love-hate relationship between
GIs and Spam.
From what we could gather, the good ole US of A would never have had a chance back in WWII if not for this magical blend of ham and pork by-products shoved into wind-up cans.
An entire exhibit is dedicated to an unseen soldier in a tent bitchin’ about all the spam he and his fellow men-in-arms must consume in the field.
Seriously folks, if an army moves on its stomach and Spam was keeping those bellies filled… it follows that we would all be speaking German if not for Spam.
Something to ponder as we headed towards the next roadside distraction, I mean attraction.
See more photos ofthe Spam Museum
Rumor had it that The Jolly Green Giant resided in Blue Earth, Minnesota.
Once again we found ourselves veering off the interstate and down the exit ramp to investigate.
Catching a glimpse while scanning the horizon for the towering vegetable spokes-model, we made our way toward the green Goliath.
In 1978, the town of Blue Earth, Minnesota paid $43,000 to erect a 55-foot fiberglass statue of the Jolly Green Giant.
The erection was to commemorate the linking of the east and west sections of Interstate 90 and the local Green Giant plant (now owned by Seneca Farms). It was unveiled on July 6, 1979, much to the delight of all future I-90 travelers.
Back out on the super-slab we headed into the Dakota territory to get plumb western. But before we could put on our hats and boots, we had to see one more tribute to corn country, the World’s Only Corn Palace. Mitchell, South Dakota has held the honor of home to the Corn Palace for over a century.
Back in 1905, the townsfolk of Mitchell made a play to wrestle the state capitalship away from those uppity bastards up in Pierre.
Their big idea? Build a Corn Palace, that’ll show ’em! A cornucopia castle complete with domes, towers and murals all covered with kernels of corn depicting scenes from a new theme each season.
The corn crazies are coughing up $130,000 each year to decorate the mansion of maize much to the delight of the half a million Palace Subjects visiting each year.
The Palace doesn’t just sit around doing nothing while wearing its corn coat.
The hall is the home court of the Dakota Wesleyan University Tigers and the Mitchell High Kernels basketball teams as well as the host of the Corn Palace Festival, the Corn Palace Stampede Rodeo and (we saved the best for last) the Corn Palace Polka Festival.
Personally, we are surprised by the lack of other corn celebrating venues… what’s wrong with Iowa? Where’s their freaking Corn Coliseum? Something to think about as we pulled back out onto the west bound side of the big road.
See much more about the Corn Palace!
If we were ever going to make it across the vast expanse of the great plains we had to put some miles behind us. We simply couldn’t stop at every Ride the Jackalope, See the Two Headed Snake or World’s Largest Prairie Dog that we passed along the way.
But one thing had demanded our attention for many hundreds of miles, it had to be seen.
The signs for a place called Wall Drug begin more than a days drive from the place. In a region infested with signs, Wall Drug sets the gold standard.
Back in 1936, Ted Hustead’s wife Dorothy got the big idea that they could draw travelers off of the highway into their drug store with signs offering “Free Ice Water” and it worked. As time went on, the billboards were put up further and further away from the store in Wall, South Dakota.
At their peak in the 1960s, there were highway signs in every state of the union, over 3,000 in all.
Fans have since spread the signs literally around the world. The mileage to Wall Drug is posted at The Taj Mahal, bases in Afghanistan and even the South Pole.
Metro riders in Paris, bus passengers in London and rail commuters in Kenya have all seen signs for Wall Drug. The phenomenonhas subsided a bit these days but the billboards still cover over 500 miles of Interstate 90, stretching from Minnesota to Billings, Montana. Wall Drug spends an estimated $400,000 on the signs every year, always on wood because, as Ted always said “Painted wood isn’t as fun to shoot at as enameled metal.”
All of this hoopla leads to the mother of all crap shops. In addition to the free water (yup, they still serve it) there are a couple restaurants and more crazy souvenirs than any tired tourist could possibly ponder.
Wall Drug is quite possibly the premiere place to buy all things Jackalope. Stuffed Jackalopes, Jackalope banks, Jackalopes holding a shot glass, Jackalope post cards, it’s a veritable Jackalope jackpot here.
Of course, no western crap shop is complete without the usual candy rocks, rattlesnake eggs, outhouse Christmas ornaments, Buffalo bobble heads and such, and Wall Drug does not disappoint.
After contracting a severe case of tourist trap overload, we rode off into the sunset, out of Wall and into the Badlands.
David & Veronica,
GypsyNester.com
In our never ending search for intriguing foods, a jackpot was hit with what has to be the mother of all unhealthy menus. Seriously, there is a deep-fried cheeseburger on the menu.Heart stopping, artery clogging foods are favorites all over the world and the American Midwest is certainly no exception. In Michigan, it’s Pasties in the U.P., cherry pies in Traverse City and the great Coney Island dogs in Flint. But for real gut busting nothing beats… CONTINUE READING >>
In our never ending search for intriguing foods, a jackpot was hit with what has to be the mother of all unhealthy menus.
Heart stopping, artery clogging foods are favorites all over the world and the American Midwest is certainly no exception.
In Michigan, it’s Pasties in the U.P., cherry pies in Traverse City and the great Coney Island dogs in Flint. But for real gut busting, cholesterol increasing, Wolverine State food nothing beats a gizzard.
That’s right, a good ole chicken gizzard, fried up and thrown down at the gizzard capital of the world, Joe’s Gizzard City.
About 15 miles South of Lansing, in Potterville, Michigan we discovered the undisputed king of the cooked chicken ventriculus.
The what?
That’s just a fancy way of saying gizzard. It’s part of a bird’s digestive system that grinds up food and is where the word giblets originated.
Gizzards are a popular food throughout the world, served grilled in Asia, stewed in Portugal, curried or barbecued in Pakistan, with mashed potatoes or a Perigordian Salad in France, in gumbo or even pickled here in the States.
But for real greasy gizzard flavor, they’ve got to be battered up and deep fried.
Battered and fried is what Joe’s Gizzard City does best! Not just gizzards, the fine chefs at Joe’s will fry up anything and everything. All of the usual suspects are there on the menu — fish, onions, shrimp, potatoes and even cheese.
But the true CPR inducting, defibrillating, rib spreading bang for your buck has got to be the Triple D Burger.
A whopping third pound of ground cow topped with onions, pickles, tomatoes and American cheese, dipped in batter and doused in hot grease. Bun and all.
Consult your physician before attempting to eat this puppy, as most insurance carriers count the Triple D as a preexisting condition.
If that’s still not enough, perhaps some deep fried meatballs, pickles or olives on the side will round out the meal.
Too heavy?
Well then try the Battered Dog Melt. Nothing like two hotdogs battered, deep fried and covered in chili and cheese for a light snack. Joe has even figured out a way to fry up spinach dip in stick form.
That’s just messed up. Seriously.
Be sure to save room for dessert. Really, how can cheesecake, Oreos or ice cream get any better? Well by coating them in batter and deep frying them of course.
The granddaddy of them all has to be the “Frinkie.”
A deep fried spongy snack cake smothered in caramel and chocolate sauces, slathered with whipped cream topped off with a cherry. The candy cherry allows one gets some fruit with one’s meal!
Everybody wins.
On our visit, we decided to stick to the namesake and order the famous original gizzards.
The menu called it a half pound, but it was more than enough for a big snack for both of us… with a lot left over.
Joe, Jr. must have some kind of wacky scale back there in the kitchen. Maybe he inherited it from his dad Joe, Sr., as Joe’s has been passed
down from generation to generation of the Bristol family since 1960.
Gizzard City guarantees that their gizzards are so tender you can cut them with a spoon and they were. Asking around, we discovered the secret is that they are pounded and boiled before being dipped and fried.
Served “bite-sized” in a basket with cocktail sauce, we popped the little nuggets down our gullets until our grease quotient had been met and surpassed. Tasty enough, but for us, a little went a long way.
While they’ve been known to batter and fry almost anything at Joe’s, it’s the gizzards that make them world renowned.
They go through 400 pounds of the battered bird bites every week.
And speaking of batter, Joe knows how to use that too, to the tune of about 25 pounds a day. Now that may sound like a lot of breading and chicken parts, CUZ IT IS, but that won’t last a couple hours during the true gizzard chowing madness of Gizzard Fest.
Every June for nearly a decade now, downtown Potterville — both blocks of it — is cordoned off for the one and only festival of gizzard gluttony… Gizzard Fest.
Three days of music, dancing, tractors, fireworks, food, beer and the star of the show… gizzards.
The undisputed highlight of the weekend is the big gizzard eating contest. Two thousand pounds of poultry parts are prepared for the perfervid participants.
The contestant to consume two pounds of fricasseed chicken guts fastest is crowned the champion. This is often closely followed by the less public gizzard puking ceremony.
We stumbled upon Joe’s Gizzard City completely by accident. Lured in by the big fiberglass chicken on the side of the interstate, we just followed the droplets of grease leading to the front door.
So now the next time you’re thinking, gee, I sure could go for some gizzards, you’ll know right where to get them.
Just don’t get them stuck in your craw.
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
We take making a meal out of appetizers very seriously. Having them at multiple restaurants is even better. For this appy crawl, in the heart of Manhattan, we enlisted help from our middle child, Decibel, the black-wearing, taxi-flagging, fast-walking, free-lancing, f-bomb-dropping, urbanite New Yorker.Feeling generous, we asked Decibel to decide on three restaurants she’d been waiting to visit until Mom and Dad could be there to pick up the tab. She rattled off three so fast that we knew she must have been waiting for us to ask 22 to decide on three restaurants she’d been waiting to visit until Mom and Dad could be there to pick up the tab. She rattled off three so fast that we knew she must have been waiting for us to ask and next thing we knew she was at our hotel room. The girl is like the… CONTINUE READING >>
We take making a meal out of appetizers very seriously. Having them at multiple restaurants is even better.
For this appy crawl, in the heart of Manhattan, we enlisted help from our middle child, Decibel, the black-wearing, taxi-flagging, fast-walking, free-lancing, f-bomb-dropping, urbanite New Yorker.
Feeling generous, we asked Decibel to decide on three restaurants she’d been waiting to visit until Mom and Dad could be there to pick up the tab.
She rattled off three so fast that we knew she must have been waiting for us to ask and next thing we knew she was at our hotel room. The girl is like the wind.
Before we could catch our breath, we were chasing Decibel around trendy SoHo — NYC speak for south of Houston Street. Attempting to take in the sights while keeping up a brisk New York gait, we were abruptly chastised by Decibel:
”Quit looking up — you look like a tourist!”
Apparently, being a tourist is not the optimal thing.
We arrived at Aquagrill in the blink of an eye.
Aquagrill
Spring and 6th
The oysters, oh, the oysters. Veronica was in heaven. She actually wept.
We sat at the end of the bar near the oyster specialist to take in the full mollusk experience. We were handed a list of oyster choices — assuming there would be two or three –and were bowled over at the medieval scroll we were given. There had to be thirty choices!
The specialist, picking up on Veronicas bovine look, sweetly suggested that he choose for her. And choose he did. He shucked those fat bad boys like the pro he was and whomped down a platter of the most beautiful invertebrates wed ever tasted. We might be ruined for life.
Making our way through SoHo, past the fashionable shops and even more fashionable people, it felt like we had stumbled into a Woody Allen movie — or perhaps The Devil Wears Prada. Everyone was beautiful, dressed to the nines and sporting some serious footwear!
Really? Those girls can walk that fast in those skyscraper heels? Impressive. Lacking the will to keep up, we sauntered on to our next destination.
Lure
Prince and Mercer
Walk into Lure and experience what it was like to spend some time with the Onassis clan aboard one of their ridiculously fabulous yachts.
Wait — really — its a yacht in the middle of SoHo.
We sat and watched the stylish New Yorkers blaze by through the portholes–its seriously groovy.
Its a boat in the middle of Manhattan, its called Lure, its obviously a seafood restaurant. If the quality of their sushi is any indication, were guessing that the entrée menu is to die for.
Spring Pea and White Asparagus Soup
Somehow this soup was frothy AND hot. Had hunks of shrimp (oh
the texture). We tasted mint. Loved it.
Sushi
We had the salmon sushi and the House Roll. This roll consisted of shrimp tempura and cucumber with an outer rim of spicy tuna and dollops of yummy sauce. Add the black sesame seeds in the rice and youve got the makings of one fine roll. Decibel deemed it freakin awesome and Decibel knows her sushi.
The stunningly huge wine list reads like a juicy romance novel. It had to be
removed from Veronicas sweaty hands by management. We have all kinds of inappropriate adjectives we could use here, but lets leave it at sexy, shall we?
We elected to do a bit of a digestive stroll. It led us out of SoHo proper, but still within appy crawling distance. We were fortunate enough to experience a true NYC moment. This sign was found outside a posh shop — not exactly something one would see in say, Sheboygan.
The best part?
This guy sat down at his computer, chose a font, laid it out nicely and nestled it into a protective sleeve to save it from the elements.
BRA-VO pissed off New York City bike dude!
Decibel’s next suggestion was tapas, ba-by! A restaurant sanctioned appy crawl if there ever was one–tapas are small portions–so order away!
Café Español
Bleeker and Thompson
Decibel walked into Café Español and immediately pegged it for a great place to go on a date. It WAS pretty cute.
The menu contains five types of sangria–white, red, cava, mango and strawberry. We tried the red and it was delicious, but
— careful — it’s very strong.
Order by the glass, just to be safe. Don’t eat the fruit if you want to be able to walk out the door unaided.
Pimientos de Piquillo
Roasted spicy sweet peppers–yeah! These were REALLY good
Spanish Olives
Wonderful combo–some stuffed with nuts or pickles. Pimentos and capers, oh so yummy.
Tortilla Espanola
Very authentic egg and potato “omelette”
Champiñones Rellenos
Mushrooms stuffed with bland bread crumbs or what tasted like bland bread crumbs anyway. Skip this one.
Vieriras en Salsa Verde
Also not good. Scallops–only fair–and the sauce was bland. Really didn’t stand up well to the evenings previous shellfish experiences.
Nata con Nueces
Saved the day–vanilla ice cream with a caramel ribbon topped with caramelized walnuts. Caramel. Goooood.
Also see:
The Appy Crawl Philosophy, All Appy Crawls
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
Summer’s coming to an end but instead of lamenting, let’s look at the bright side. Fall is arguably the best season for doing a little GypsyNesting right in your own backyard. The cool crisp weather is perfect for hiking and biking along nearby trails and the colors are spectacular. State and County Fairs are going on all across the country and, as we learned in Hillsdale, can be a smashing good time.
For us sports fans, it’s football season. If there is a pro team nearby, the speed, the size and the… CONTINUE READING >>
Summer’s coming to an end but instead of lamenting, let’s look at the bright side. Fall is arguably the best season for doing a little GypsyNesting right in your own backyard.
The cool crisp weather is perfect for hiking and biking along nearby trails and the colors are spectacular. State and County Fairs are going on all across the country and, as we learned in Hillsdale, can be a smashing good time.
For us sports fans, it’s football season. If there is a pro team nearby, the
speed, the size and the spectacle of the NFL are pretty awesome, but so are the prices. Personally, I prefer leaving a sporting event with both of my arms and legs.
The local college squad can provide some topnotch talent for about half the price, unless the nearest institution of higher education is one of those football programs that has basically become professional. For sheer bang-for-your-buck it’s hard to beat good old high school football.
There’s always a high school nearby and it doesn’t need to be your Alma Mater, in fact, I think it’s better if it’s not. No reliving the old glory days, I’m just an impartial observer.
We were lucky enough to hit a homecoming game against an arch rival on a recent visit and, I can tell you, it’s tough to beat. The big game on the field. The students, in their glitter and face paint, rootin’ for the home team. And, of course, all the goofy pageantry that makes homecoming such a special event.
As the teams battled mightily on the field, we discovered the Future Farmers of America concession stand. What bargains and the money goes to a good cause.
Plus, who doesn’t want a pickle
for just a buck at the big game?
As the second quarter ended, the hometown favorites took a 14 – 10 lead into the locker room.
The half-time show began as the Homecoming King, Queen and their Court of runners-up were chauffeured around the field in open-topped Jeeps provided by the local car lot.
The three car parade came to a halt in front of the home stands to accept the wild applause and
adoration of the student body that elected them. Just seeing teenagers actually smiling was worth the three bucks we paid to get in.
The cheerleaders did a short dance to Hey Baby before three of them raced off to play in the marching band. As the band took the field we noticed that in addition to the cheerleaders, another kid was not wearing the beautiful polyester quasi-military band uniform.
On closer inspection, he was wearing football pants and Under Armour. Yup, one of the players had shucked his helmet, jersey and pads, scrambled out of the locker room, donned a band hat and grabbed a trombone just in time to do some serious jamming on a Blood Sweat & Tears medley.
Talk about double duty! Just a side note… aren’t these the same songs that we played back in school band?
The epic battle continued with much back and forth and plenty of abuse heaped upon the refs. Unfortunately the home town boys gave up the lead
and lost the big game on a late touchdown by their hated rivals.
They’ll have to wait until next year, but we don’t.
See you next Friday night!
David, GypsyNester.com
Can a city with over 5 million residents seem open and uncrowded? It can if it’s Toronto. Canada’s largest metropolitan area is without a doubt urban, yet the feel is neither hectic nor claustrophobic. Toronto’s city planners were careful to include open and green spaces in the waterfront and surrounding business district, lending the city it’s unique feel.
In keeping with this unconfined spirit, Toronto is remarkably bicycle friendly. The city has about three hundred miles of bike paths… CONTINUE READING >>
Can a city with over 5 million residents seem open and uncrowded?
It can if it’s Toronto. Canada’s largest metropolitan area is without a doubt urban, yet the feel is neither hectic nor claustrophobic.
Toronto’s city planners were careful to include open and green spaces in the waterfront and surrounding business district, lending the city it’s unique feel.
A big part of that atmosphere are the urban living spaces incorporated into the city. Many have chosen to take advantage of all the city has to offer by choosing to live in condos rather than houses in the suburbs.
In keeping with this unfettered spirit, Toronto is remarkably bicycle friendly. The city has about three hundred miles of bike paths and by 2011 that amount will more than double.
Lake Ontario’s Waterfront Trail makes up a part of these. Running all the way from Niagara-on-the-Lake to the Quebec border, the trail passes directly through Toronto’s downtown.
Toronto is very much an international city with a huge variety of cultures represented. About half of the residents were not born in Canada — creating a culinary jackpot and we couldn’t resist eating our way through.
An appy crawl had to be done.
We began our savoring and cycling adventure by picking up The Waterfront Trail at The Beaches Park just east of downtown.
For the first few miles, we pedaled along the water on a wildflower strewn trail before entering the bustle of the city’s main waterfront.
Ferries and tourist boats line the docks while incredible apartments that look like the decks of cruise ships mix with shops and restaurants overlooking the lake.
We chose a perfect spot for a brief rest, a spot of refreshment and a relaxing nibble. Wallymagoo’s has cornered THE prime location in Toronto’s waterfront.
Even though the Great Lakes are fresh water, something certainly seemed right about having oysters and shrimp while sitting on the dock of the bay. We were careful not to fill up, as there was more appy crawling to be done.
There are several parks along the the waterfront, our favorite being The Music Garden conceived by celebrated cellist Yo Yo Ma and landscape designer Julie Moir Messervy.
The landscaped interpretation of Bach’s First Suite for Unaccompanied Cello is a journey through the music with dances from Spain, Germany, France and England represented in the gardens.
In the evenings, The Summer Music in the Garden Series hosts performers from all over the world.
After riding through the park, it was time for the second leg of our appy crawl. Sticking with our seafood theme, we choose Oyshi Sushi, nestled in the heart of downtown.
Sitting at the sushi bar, we marveled at the beauty of the chef’s creations.
No detail was missed. Our fare was just as delicious as it looked, some of the best sushi we’ve had. The salmon was melt-in-your-mouth and buttery, the roe in the roll exquisite…oh yeah, and a seafood soup with life changing properties.
Toronto was turning into quite a town for us Foodies.
The Toronto skyline is completely dominated by the CN Tower, billed as Canada’s Wonder of the World. All day it had been looming over us, taunting us, perhaps even challenging us. We had to scale it.
Built to serve as a radio and TV communication platform in 1975, at just over 1,815 feet to the top of its antenna, it was the world’s tallest free standing structure. The Tower held this title for over 30 years.
It has since been dethroned but this is of little consequence as you are zooming up in an elevator with a glass floor. Who thinks up these things?
Next stop, 113 stories up. The Tower is fully surrounded by windows offering a full panoramic aerial view of the Toronto and Lake Ontario. Stunning.
We leisurely finished our appy crawl at 360, the Tower’s restaurant, home of the world’s highest wine cellar (changing the definition of “cellar,” perhaps?).
We indulged in the Bruschetta Three Ways, the first olive, second artichoke tapenade with pesto, and last an eggplant, caper and rosemary oil. Delicious –gives new meaning to getting high and getting the munchies.
Properly fortified, we felt strong enough to gaze down through another glass floor.
Tween-aged boys were showing their bravado racing around, performing gymnastics and mugging for their nauseous parents’ cameras while an infant crawled across the two inch thick glass without a care in the world.
We found it harder to be so cavalier stepping out on to a transparent floor a quarter mile up in the air. It goes directly contrary to all of the signals that the eyes are sending to the brain. It also makes the stomach feel somewhat unhappy.
We made our way gingerly out on to the glass. It was worth the experience but even now, we get a little queasy just thinking about it. Still, we obviously hadn’t had enough since we continued our journey up another 33 floors to the Sky Pod.
The Pod does not feature see-through floors (praise God!) but the windows face downward enough to bring on the vertigo.
They also bring on a truly spectacular view. We were graced with a beautiful sunny day so we could see all of the way across Lake Ontario, over a hundred miles.
While we were taking in the entire panorama, some water rolled off of the roof and ran past the windows.
Luckily neither of us are acrophobic because I have to say, there was something really, really freaky about watching the drops fall 1,500 feet. We decided it was time to get our feet back on the ground.
On our way back into The United States the customs agent asked
us why we had stopped in Toronto. Caught a little off guard and being a sarcastic bastard at heart, David replied because it was there.
That earned us a quick shake down and search. Those zany customs folks just don’t have any sense of humor, do they?
Maybe we should have told him the real best reason to stop in Toronto is because IT ROCKS!
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com
Who knew that there was a little taste of Texas way up in Ontario? Yup, oil that is, black gold, Texas tea, a Canadian story ripped right from the antics of the Beverly Hillbillies.
Like Jed Clampett, the locals thought the greasy goo oozing out of the ground was just a nuisance – until some city slickers came along and wanted to pay for it, that is.
The whole story is told at The Oil Museum of Canada in Oil Springs, just South of Oil City and Petrolia, on the corner of Oil Heritage Road and Gum … CONTINUE READING >>
Who knew that there was a little taste of Texas way up in Ontario?
Yup, oil that is, black gold, Texas tea, a Canadian story ripped right from the antics of the Beverly Hillbillies.
Like Jed Clampett, the locals thought the greasy goo oozing out of the ground was just a nuisance until some city slickers came along and wanted to pay for it, that is.
The whole story is told at The Oil Museum of Canada in Oil Springs, just South of Oil City and Petrolia, on the corner of Oil Heritage Road and Gum Bed Line.
By the way things are named around here, we started to get the idea that oil’s big in these parts.
So big in fact, that it’s been immortalized in the stained-glass windows at the Christ Anglican Church in Petrolia.
Yup, those panes next to Jesus, usually reserved for the saints and such, are all filled with scenes from the nearby oil fields.
Under his feet reads “And The Rock Poured Me Out Rivers Of Oil.” We had no idea that Jesus was so into fossil fuels.
150 years ago, the few folks scratching out a living on this strip of land between Lake Huron and Lake Erie didn’t think much of the nasty, black tar they called gum. All it was good for was ruining their land and water.
But then, in 1858, someone hatched a plan to use the gunk for asphalt to pave roads. The men started digging up the gum, standing in the awful muck, scooping it up in buckets and sending it off to the Big City where folks had use for it.
This digging of gum revealed an unexpected surprise, underneath the tar there was oil!
Back then oil was used for lamps, lubrication, paraffin, medicines and other necessities but not so much as a fuel.
The gasoline that was left over in the refining process was burned off as waste since there were not yet any internal combustion engines to use it.
All of that “waste” would come in quite handy about now, wouldn’t it?
An Oil Rush commenced and thissouthernmost section of Canada was absolutely crawling with prospectors. In fact, the first commercial oil well in North America was in this area.
Here’s where the Mother of Invention stepped in, an ingenious device called a jerker system was invented to pump oil from numerous wells at the same time using just one steam engine.
Remarkable in its complex simplicity, a maze of cables, connectors and wooden rods harnesses the power from the large engine and sends it to pumps all over the field some of them thousands of yards away.
In fact, a working example is still in use, pumping away on the Oil Museum grounds.
The Oil Museum sits right on the site of the first well and the smell of oil literally hangs in the air. Inside the main building there are two floors of exhibits.
The first housing displays of interesting oil business and technology memorabilia. Antique oil cans, service station signs, advertisements are mixed in with diagrams and descriptions of the geology and machinery that make up the history of the oil business.
One display seemed a bit too excited about what it called the world’s first oil spill! The flow from this gusher decimated the area with 100,000 barrels of crude fouling the fields and water all the way to Lake St. Clair.
Now that’s something to celebrate! Not.
The main floor also includes a theater showing a short and somewhat hokey film that gives a fact filled look at the story of North America’s first oil patch through the eyes of a letter writin’ Oil Rusher’s wife.
The basement is another story (no pun intended). A strange conglomeration
of artifacts with nothing whatsoever to do with oil, or even Canada for that matter, are laid out for perusal.
Bugs and guns, a collection of eggs, scarves and clocks, knives and spears from around the world are all displayed in glass cases and along the walls.
But, wait, there’s more — what arrangement is complete without an opium pipe, a conch shell or an elephant tooth?
The curators vaguely tied the items into the museum by pointing out that there is oil in the places where they came from and that oil men kept them as souvenirs.
For us, the most entertaining part of the museum was the Oil Springs Heritage District Driving Tour.
We drove the two mile loop on the nearby roads and found goofy life-sized dioramas of odd metal sculpted men and beasts of burden in old-timey oil production scenes.
Each spot has its own radio frequency, so we tuned into narrations from Angus but you can call me Slick (get it–like “Oil Slick”) in his Texas drawl over a background of delta blues music. Of course, this IS the deep
South, of Canada, so that makes it all fit right in, eh?
Y’all come back now, y’here?
David & Veronica, GypsyNester.com