Navigating New England

We went to New Hampshire to see a bike race in Portsmouth. It’s called the “Portsmouth Criterium” and there was a huge crowd.

We really didn’t expect a bike race but when you go places there’s always a surprise. Those guys went around the streets of Portsmouth faster than any car could ever. It was amazing to watch 50 speeding bicycles hit poorly seated manhole covers and launch into the air.

In New England lots of people run. Almost any road had joggers along the edge. Since the Colonial planners didn’t imagine such things when they randomly laid out these roads they didn’t leave any room for runners. Thus traffic is substantially slowed waiting for a chance to get around a runner. People also ride bikes a lot. Same issue. Oddly this seems to meter traffic so nobody is going fast enough to have a wreck.

That means a lot of drivers who want to go any distance find the big roads. The interstates and big state highways with 65 mph speed limits. They have random tolls. You can be driving along 70 mph not bothering anyone and around the next bend a big sign says you need to stop and pay a toll. That is if you don’t have one of those EZPass things. Luckily I took one of my fake Good-To-Go transponders and attached it to the rental car.

Speaking of cops; they’re a scary looking bunch. They drive big fast Chrysler type vehicles, such as the 300 or the Dodge Charger. A lot faster than a rental car, anyway. They have snappy uniforms and Smoky Bear hats. They carry big guns and have serious looks.

Air travel these days is also kind of fun. When you get to a big city airport they have an airline employee near the ticket counter area whose job is to yell at people and get them into lines. We Americans apparently know nothing about lining up.
For some reason our airline had a large crowd of people wanting to fly somewhere and some of the other airlines had nobody. Too bad we can’t just change our minds and go to an airline with no line.

Anyway, the airline employee trys to get us into various categories of lines. One is for people without boarding passes who need to check luggage. One for people who don’t want to check luggage but need a boarding pass. One is for those who printed a boarding pass at home but still need a real boarding pass that only the airline ticket agent can issue. One for bags that have no passenger but do have a boarding pass. And a special line for rednecks. That line is actually a big circle that goes around some giant airport “art” sculpture. Once in awhile one or two rednecks realize they passed the same points three or four times and slip out to join a real line.

Once you get that all sorted out and hand over two weeks’ worth of clothing in your finest Piggly Wiggly luggage you head for the Security line. I got my bag checked and turned to see how the redneck line was doing. As I negotiated my way out of the crowd I said aloud “OK now where’s Security?” and bumped into three heavily armed policemen. “Wow,” I said, “Now that’s what I call service!” The biggest one said, “That’s what we’re here for.” So I now have proof that at least one cop has a sense of humor. Just don’t expect a rental car to outrun a New Hampshire State Trooper and then make a joke of it.

While in New England I visited several boat related sites. They build boats there and they are very proud of it. One place I visited in Bath, Maine, was located on the actual site where old sailing ships were built. They still had the contours on the bank where they built the ship and then slid it into the water. They have a big steel sculpture of the bow and stern in the exact position where a boat was built so you can see how it was all done.

Another interesting aspect is that whenever I was taking 3D photos at the various sites people would come up to me and comment about my 3D rig. They all recognized that I was taking 3D pictures. I’ve been to a lot of places and most people who talk to me just ask why I’m using two cameras. In New England they seem to understand it’s for 3D.

Of course whenever you travel to an unfamiliar location you need to figure out how to get places. It’s always a challenge, especially if you want to avoid the toll gates.

I’ve grown fond of using GPS as a navigation aid. Mostly I study the map and decide where I am and where I’m going. Then I use the GPS to determine how badly off course I am.

But for this trip I decided to give it a new twist. My smart phone has GPS capability so instead of toting a Garmin on the trip or paying the rental company for one I decided to try the phone version.

It worked. I’d enter the address of the place I wanted to go and the phone told me where to turn. Even warned me to get in the left or right lane to be ready to turn. So that’s why they call it a smart phone. The picture on the tiny screen was not much help so I didn’t look at it much. Safer that way.

The smart phone GPS is particularly helpful in these coastal New England locals because the streets and back roads twist and turn so much. Just heading out in search of a specific place will get you lost. On the other hand when my phone tells me to turn here and five minutes later I actually arrive at t he place I’m looking for it’s like a minor miracle.

Something I found in New Hampshire that we don’t have in Washington: New Castle Public Library. That’s right; they have a library in their New Castle. And a zip code. So maybe the mistake here was to make Newcastle all one word. Seems like a clue.

The phone GPS has a couple of oddities, though. There’s a way to display a map showing where you are. I parked a few times and tried to access the map but only got it by luck and patience. I still don’t know if I could go right to the map feature. Another one is the propensity to use the Interstate system. It wanted me on I-95 and “NO NONSENSE, MISTER!” even to go from one part of a town to another. But unlike the clinically stupid TOMTOM GPS it was able to recalculate the route and eventually succeed in getting me there even if I refused to use I-95, with its random toll gates.

Getting back to the world was only a little hairy. Apparently when you take off your shoes at the security gate you can’t put them in a plastic bin. I don’t know why they want your shoes loose in the x-ray machine. Oh, and while the TSA guy is giving you hell about that point he throws your carry-on bag to the floor and then apologizes. Great! My iPod gets shock tested just because I put my shoes in a plastic bin. I don’t recall when I became a suspected terrorist, but I think it’s time for me to reform.

And, if you like adventure; make a connecting flight through Chicago. I expect some of the other big hubs are just as crazy but Chicago’s terminals seem to be the most congested. The walkways are narrow and then they allow all kinds of vendors to set up shop right out there where we’re trying to sprint to our next flight.

So my advice is this: Get a GPS and use it. Get rich and fly in private jets. And get a riding lawn mower. Everything else is just icing on the cake. One more thing, don’t annoy the New Hampshire State Police.

Al