Mountaineer Fernweh

The food.  I just can't forget about all the food. On a recent trip to Cleveland, I spent Friday evening at Progressive Field, or "the Jake" (for its previous name).  It's not quite as user friendly as Oriole Park in Baltimore, its immediate MLB predecessor by the same architect.  A 2015 renovation resulted in more box seats, lower capacity, and higher ticket prices than what I am used to.  That may also have something to do with winning the American League Pennant last year, too!  Ticket booths are away from the downtown side, so it really helps to purchase in advance, or you will have to walk around the stadium from most hotels. I've never seen such long lines for food at a ballpark.   It's not for lack of availability,  as selections run from the traditional dogs or bratwurst to pizza, Mexican, and vegetarian options.  I should have downloaded a map to my phone first; I was looking for a specific Mexican vendor and couldn't find it.  I en

Since 1845, with an interruption during the Civil War, the United States Navy as trained its commissioned officers on the banks of the Severn River in Annapolis, Maryland.  Located on a scenic campus opening to the Chesapeake Bay, the Academy forms the heart of this sailing town. As a military installation, the Academy is unusually user-friendly.  Once you arrive at the visitor's gate at the corner of Randall and Prince George Streets, signs direct you to the security station, and then they tell you exactly what to take out and off. The Naval Academy is the most compact of the three military campuses.  It is easily walkable, and half a day is appropriate for most interested visitors.  A guided tour ($11 adults/$9 students) is available, and takes you through most of the important public buildings.  (The Jewish Chapel and Academy Museum are not part of the tour but are open to visitors.  All public buildings are open free of charge and a map is available.)  Before you enter

The most scenic leg of the Cardinal begins at White Sulfur Springs and continues to Charleston.  Riding first along the Greenbrier River to its confluence with the New River at Hinton, this eons-old valley was given national park status in 1978, and the rugged region is replete with gorgeous scenery, dotted with the remnants of industry that has largely faded into the past.  (On east bound trains, a volunteer historian details the historical sights between Charleston and White Sulfur Springs.  Regrettably uneven speaker systems in the trains mean you may, or may not, understand what is being said.) The New River flows north, within a few miles of the Summit Bechtel National Scout Reserve.  On my trip, a young man in a Scouting uniform heading to the reservation was seated nearby.  Since I haven't been involved in the organization in a couple of decades I tend to say, "I  was  an Eagle Scout."  The young man reminds me "once an Eagle, always an Eagle.&q

Amtrak’s Northeast Regional and Acela often feel like microcosms of the cities that they travel between.  So do the stations, which become cities in miniature, as Bostonians, New Yorkers, and Philadelphians rub shoulders with folks from Baltimore and the capital region.  Washington's Union Station, the glorious Beaux-Arts monument whose front doors open to the Capitol, is one of these places-complete with a shopping mall.  Perhaps the grandest of the East Coast train stations, it possesses the elegance of Grand Central without the feeling that you might get run over by another passenger.   This isn't my first trip on the Cardinal, and Union Station always gives me a sense of leaving the bustling east coast behind.  The ornate East Hall is the home of a steakhouse and and art dealers, while the old arrivals area includes the aforementioned food court and mall.  My destination, Charleston, WV, has seen a significant population and retail drain in recent years, and t

I love to travel.  I also love to take pictures and tell people about them. When a friend first suggested I write a travel blog last year, the name I had in mind was "Assateague and Appalachia."  Having been confined largely to exploring the far and obscure corners of the Mid-Atlantic for about five years, it seemed to be a good choice.  As a tribute to that original conception, my first entries are about Assateague Island National Seashore and Frank Lloyd Wright's "Fallingwater," located in the mountains of western Pennsylvania. I realized I wanted to do more, though.  The blog's name, "Mountaineer Fernweh," is just a description of me: a native West Virginian with what the Germans call "far-sickness."  Upcoming entries will cover new breweries and colonial churches of Maryland's Eastern Shore (not at the same time!), as well as Amtrak's Cardinal to West Virginia, but look for entries from beyond and far-beyond soon.

Looking south from Ocean City's Pier, a fishing spot jutting from the chaos near Trimper's Rides and Ripley's  Believe it or Not! at the south end of town ,  a different world lies just across the inlet: Assateague Island.  A barrier island targeted for development in the post-War era, the Ash Wednesday storm of 1962 put an end to those plans, and the already extant state park became a part of a nature preserve that is one of the largest seaside parks on the Atlantic coast. Assateague Island is most famous for its feral horses, divided by a fence into two herds at the state line.  The more famous Chincoteague “ponies” of Virginia are herded across the water each year to the island of the same name, where the local fire department holds an auction for the healthiest of them as an annual fundraiser.  The Maryland herd is treated as wildlife, and artificial birth control is used to manage its size.  Because of their limited diet on the Island, the auctioned horse

I'm behind a coal truck.  Actually, four coal trucks.  With one lane of PA 381 closed as a piece of heavy machinery cuts away at a mid-summer mudslide, I find myself waiting for the traffic signaler to change the sign to "slow," while wondering how long it will take the behemoths ahead to complete their slow crawl up the hill, where my trip terminates in less than a mile. Perhaps the most amazing thing about Fallingwater is not the combination of nature and engineering that Wright called organic architecture, but the very tenacity it took to place it there.  This is not the easiest weekend home to find; and according to my tour guide, the leisurely two-hour trip from Pittsburgh was three to four for the original owners.  Even today, curvy, spottily marked roads, often lacking a shoulder, lead to this sanctuary from the Steel City. Fallingwater was built in 1935-36 for the Kaufmann family, owners of a large department store in downtown Pittsburgh.  Kauffman&