This is the last of 3 posts covering this trip. You really should read them in order. Here's a link to the first part.
The photo album for this entire trip can be viewed here.
The pictures are in chronological order, with captions. All the
pictures in this post and the succeeding two posts are part of that
album.
AFTER WE LOADED UP our rented Chevy Equinox, we headed down the road to Pittsburgh, by way of Fallingwater, with an unplanned stop at Punxsutawney to see the site of the famous groundhog's annual 15 minutes of fame.
Punxsutawney Phil, said famous groundhog, makes his appearances in Gobbler's Knob, a park area on the east side of town. It's been going on for nearly 140 years now, and Phil is in remarkably good shape for so venerable a celeb. According to sometimes-reliable sources, these appearances usually attracted a couple thousand people until the movie Groundhog Day came out in the early 1990s; after that, and until Covid, the crowds jumped to about ten thousand people. Even though the movie was shot in Illinois.
There ain't nothing going on at Gobbler's Knob in mid-June.
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Fallingwater
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Maybe this is because everybody who's out for a little tourist travel in that part of Pennsylvania is down the road at Fallingwater. This is the house that Frank Lloyd Wright designed for some of the Pittsburgh elite, the Kaufmann family, who owned a local department store back when those were profitable. They had a cabin on some property up in the hills and wanted a house. They hired Wright, who was known to them because their son was interested in Wright's design theories. In the course of about three years, Wright designed an unarguable masterpiece, Fallingwater, though not a particularly practical one. It, along with a couple of other projects around that time, made Wright the most famous architect in America since H.H. Richardson, and perhaps the most famous ever. At least as famous as Punxsutawney Phil.
The house is set in grounds circumscribed by a "run", which is what Pennsylvanians call a stream that flows down a hill or mountain side (as opposed to the ones that flow along a valley floor). The grounds have been augmented by the acquisition of adjacent lands going up to the Youghiogheny (pronounced "You-go-HEN-ny") River, and the whole area is heavily wooded. The house sits right over a twenty-foot-high waterfall, ensuring that everything either rusts or leaks. When we visited, workmen were reconstructing the bridge that goes across the run as you approach the house. The many levels of the house (and the guest house, right above it on the hillside) are cantilevered out from the rock, and seem to float. As in most of his famous projects, Wright designed not only the house, but every window and floor and every stick of furniture that went into it. We didn't get to go inside the house -- those tours are booked up well into next month -- but we could see into the rooms, as much of the house's walls are glass.
After Fallingwater, we were heading into Pittsburgh when the realization dawned on us that we were missing the England:Scotland game in the European Championships. We pulled over at what looked like it might be a bar, and I got out to see if there was a TV. No, it was a small grocery store, but there were two guys standing on the front porch. So I asked them if they were locals. Actually, what I said was, "Are y'all f'om 'round here?" and they looked at me for a second as though I'd addressed them in Akkadian. Then the translation kicked in for 'em, and I said I was looking for a sports bar that might have a TV, and that I needed it "right now." It was already well into the match. So the two guys discuss where they might suggest we go, and decide that a certain bar in a nearby town would probably be the closest. And as luck would have it, one of the guys lives right near there and will be happy to lead us to it. So, Yay! we got to watch the second half of perhaps the dullest England:Scotland soccer match since the invention of television. At least the beer was good, and some of the snacks. (Onion rings, yes; poppers, no.)
On to Pittsburgh. By then we were several hours past my paid time at the long-term lot, so I figured I'd have to fork over another seven bucks. Not a prob. Get to the airport and this time was very careful to go into the same parking entrance gate that I'd gone into when I parked -- because we had so much trouble getting to my car the first time, to transfer our luggage to the rental. Well, it seems all the Jersey barriers have been reconfigured, and again we were stuck wandering in circles on all sides of the lot where my car was parked without being able to find a way into it. Finally just had Jeff let us off within walking distance and we agreed to meet at the hotel. There was, luckily, no charge for the additional 3 or 4 hours the car was there; maybe because they figure no one could get to their car twice.
Dinner that night was in what we thought was an Italian place close by the hotel. Turned out to be a loud bar & sandwich place. I didn't care for it. The sandwich bread was some tasteless "Italian" bread they seemed inordinately proud of, and the limp french fries that the sandwich was "served with" were actually on the sandwich as an ingredient. I ended up picking out the edible parts of the sandwich: meat and coleslaw.
On Saturday we hit the ground running. We started at the "Tower of Learning," the tall Arte Moderne building that is a landmark for Pitt University. Turned out to not be open to the public, because of Covid. So we went on to our next planned stop at the Carnegie Museum of Science and Art. This turned out to be an excellent place to spend a good chunk of daylight. We agreed to meet at a certain time & place, then all four headed for the same exhibit hall, the Architecture room, which was full of fascinating casts of famous and less-famous architectural elements, statues, even whole façades.
It was wonderful to see such exact replicas of famous sculptures: Venus de Milo; Augustus Princeps; The Discus Thrower; Athena. It was even more fascinating to see replicas of such things as the doors to the Cathedral at Beauvais, a column from the Temple of Vesta at Tivoli, an 11th-Century doorway from a church in Norway, and the entire tomb of Francis II, duke of Brittany, decorated with the twelve apostles (of whom I could recognise only two, Peter and Andrew) and four women representing the attributes of a good ruler.
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not a dinosaur
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It's a huge museum, roughly equally divided between art and science. There was a long hallway dedicated to birds, populated with some whimsy. At the far end was an exhibit on the evolution of armor in animals, called "Dinosaur Armor" because that sells but containing more about other animals: crabs, fish, insects, etc. But it did also include ceratopsians and ankylosaurs, and one stegosaur skeleton; so, okay, dinosaurs. And it included several skeletons of carnivorous dinosaurs, because those are always a big draw, even though they don't exhibit any kind of armor. It was more along the lines of, "This is what the armored dinosaurs had to defend against." Of course I loved it.
There were several other rooms dedicated to dinosaurs, and I spent a good deal of time in every one of them. The Carnegie Museum was one of the early institutions participating in the wild rush to collect dinosaur fossils out west in the late 1800s; it got the first T-Rex skull, and complete diplodocus skeletons (which get their own room) and other treasures. Unfortunately (and not unexpectedly) that part of the museum was swarming with excited pre-teen children. Just because I was once one of them makes it no easier to bear now. But I got through the experience without strangling or even stifling a single one of them. I even tried to smile at it all, from time to time.
Our next stop was at the Carnegie Science Center, located along the Allegheny River just above its junction with the Monongahela. This was much less fun than the Science & Art museum. For one thing, it was all very child-oriented, with rooms full of exhibits asking the kinds of questions you ask a six-year-old. I played with some of the robotics exhibits, which were geared to that same age level (and barely functional, after so much rough usage) while waiting for the last planetarium show of the day to open up. The sign said the doors open ten minutes before show time, so I very carefully arrived back there eleven minutes before show time. I was the second person in line. More people came and lined up behind me, and then a woman who worked for the museum came to tell us that the last show was already full. Seems they opened the door up some time before, and then shut them again. Can you guess how I feel about that arrangement? If I'd known they were unable to follow their own procedure, I could have waited there in line instead of piddling with their greasy-handled robot knobs and jejeune exhibits.
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Groundhog Day at the Carnegie Science Center
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In that mood I went for a look at their model train layout. Not the biggest I've ever seen -- that's in northern Colorado, or a barn in southern Wisconsin -- but close, and detailed, and impressive, except for its inattention to the automotive scenery (too many 1907 Rolls Royces, and 1930s Duesenburg Model J's, not enough Model T's). There were a great many animated features: carnival rides, a Ferris wheel, a roller coaster that ran too infrequently, children swinging in a tree, tiny men cutting wood. After the cars, the trains were the least impressive part of the whole display. (The
best part was that the lighting in the room changed from day to night and back.)
I had a brief look around the rest of the museum, but it was all too juvenile to interest me, and there were too many kids running around without adult supervision, and it wasn't that large a museum to begin with. And, of course it didn't help that several things that might have appealed were sold out or closed because of Covid restrictions: the planetarium show, which I've already mentioned; the submarine; the I-Max; the laser show; and so on. I ended up spending a good part of our time there out in the car, reading a backlog of emails that were out of date but still more interesting than seeing yet again how a drop of water gets from my back yard to the ocean.
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the famous view
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In the early evening we went up the Duquesne Incline, one of two that still run up the steep slope of Mount Washington. These cable-cars have been in operation for more than a century; at one time there were twenty or so running up the mountainside; now there are only two, protected by historical status. We had been told (by that woman at the Pennsylvania Welcome Center on the interstate) that the area at the top of the mountain was filled with bars and restaurants with great views of the city. It was clearly true, except that there weren't all that many bars and all the restaurants with a view were way more expensive than we wanted, and way too dressy for us tired tourists. I mean, valet parking is the norm along Grandview Street, and sweaty people in T-shirts and flip-flops are not the desired clientèle. We ended up, though, having an enjoyable meal at a tavern a few blocks into the neighbourhood of Mt Washington, and then we hung around the Incline station until about dusk, so as to get some pictures of the gorgeous city skyline in the fading light. Worth every penny and every sweaty step. (Maybe next time we come to Pittsburgh, we'll reserve a restaurant table with a view, but I don't really think we missed anything worth experiencing by just showing up.)
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Mr Rogers' Monument
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Sunday was the best day in Pittsburgh. We started that morning with a visit to a group of monuments lining the Allegheny River by the baseball and football stadiums. The main draw was the monument to Mr Rogers, which Nancy had spotted from the top of Mt Washington the night before. There's also a monument to law enforcement, a confusing monument to the now-destroyed Manchester Bridge, and farther along the shore, monuments to those who served in the 20th-Century wars. (We didn't actually go to those, we just saw them from a distance.) Then we went over to the far side of the Monongahela River (which is apparently known locally as "The Mon") for a sightseeing cruise of the three rivers. The canned commentary delivered on this tour was outstanding, and despite the occasional corny joke, was very informative.
Some of the nuggets:
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bar boat on the river
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- one of the tall buildings downtown is a designated lighthouse for both ships on the river and planes coming in to Pittsburgh. The flashing light on top spells out "Pittsburgh" in morse code
- a famous director (whose name I forget) filmed most of a famous movie (I forget which) in the basement of an old building facing the river; it's a nice-looking building, fully restored
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quondam US Steel
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the building labelled UPMC used to be the headquarters of US Steel; it was built out of a certain kind of steel made to rust quickly on the outside but not on the inside, for decorative purposes. But because of the acid rain Pittsburgh endured when it was built (in the '80s), it rusted so fast that it rained rust onto the streets, and before US Steel managed to get a protective coating onto the building to stop it, the city had suffered hundreds of thousands of dollars in costs to clean up the rust dust- the Highmark building was supposed to be as tall as US Steel, but the city said no, too tall. So the architect shaved some floors off, but added the spire, to get back the lost height. The spire is on a spring mount, so it can bend in the wind. People didn't know that, so when the wind first hit it, several blocks of downtown Pittsburgh spontaneously evacuated
- the fountain at the Point has a control device that measures wind speed, and adjusts the water's height to keep it from spraying all the way over to the Wyndham Hotel. When it was dedicated, the important politicians wanted it to shoot up its full 150' height, so it'd look impressive for their publicity photos. The wind, of course, came up, and soaked all those politicians and the Wyndham Hotel.
- There is only one suspension bridge in Pittsburgh, by the same engineer as the Golden Gate. It's considered a trial run.
- Pittsburgh has more bridges than any other city in the world, over 400 (We didn't see them all)
- There are three identical bridges over the Allegheny, called the Sister Bridges. They're named for Roberto Clemente, Andy Warhol and Rachel Carson, all natives of Pittsburgh
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why did you wake me?
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After the river cruise, we went to the
National Aviary. As Jeff noted, physically it's not nearly as big as you'd expect (it has between five and six hundred kinds of birds) but ... Wow! What a great show! Some of the birds are in large cages, like the
eagles and
condors, but most are in open rooms that you walk through. They fly right by you, close enough to feel the wind from their wings, and many of them are comfortable enough around people that you could reach out and touch them (although that's not allowed). They also shit on you if you're unlucky. I took way too many pictures; the best of them are in the
Google Photos album for this trip, near the end. Click
here to see that album.
Of all the museums and such we saw in Pittsburgh, the National Aviary is the one I'd most like to go back to. The one I'd least like to go back to ... well, that's a tougher choice. Kind of a tossup, really, between the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens, and the Pittsburgh Botanical Gardens.
The PBG, located out west of the city, is ... well, I don't know. I didn't really see anything of it. I was hot and tired, and I found myself a bench in a shady spot where I could relax and drain the battery on my cellphone. Sadly, there was a "sound garden" not far away, and plenty of people wanting to bang on the kettle drum and xylophone provided. After half an hour or so I tracked down another place to sit, in the air-conditioned lobby, and stayed there until everyone else was ready to depart.
Dinner that evening was a sort of unplanned thing. It was late, a lot of places were closed, nobody was all that interested in dinner, we just wanted something quick and easy. Wendy's didn't have indoor seating, so we ended up at a Jersey Mike's. Possibly the best Philly Steak sandwich I've ever had. Top two, for sure. Jeff spotted a place a few doors over called The Milk Shake Factory, and went over there for his drink. After our sandwiches, we went to play mini-golf somewhere about 30 minutes east of where we were, at an interesting little old-fashioned course called Forsyth's. At some point early on, Jeff decided he'd left his credit card at the Milk Shake Factory. He called, but they couldn't find it. He checked all the obvious places, of course, and was sufficiently distracted by the matter for me to handily beat his score at mini-golf. Then I took a fall on the 16th hole and banged my shin pretty good. Nancy & Sherry played a second round, Jeff kept score, and I sat down to drain my cellphone battery again.
Jeff found his credit card, by the way; I think he said he'd put it back in his billfold, but in the wrong place.
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The Incident at Jumonville, by Gerry Embleton
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On our last day, we went first to the
Fort Pitt Museum, at the Point. This small museum covers the history of the Fort and the surrounding country in the years when the fort was active: the French & Indian War, the Revolution, and the early decades of the United States. Filled in a lot of gaps in my knowledge about those events. The French & Indian War, especially, was never much covered in the history classes I took, and it's not something that has every piqued my interest for reading. That may change. I'm now curious to learn more about the incident at Jumonville Glen, for one thing; and the convoluted relationships among the French, the British, and the various local tribes could put that on the table for future reading, too. Plenty of blame to go around, it seems.
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vertical wind turbine
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Lastly, we did the Phipps Conservatory and Botanical Gardens. I hated it. I'd told Sherry before the trip that we could see the Phipps or the Pittsburgh Botanical Gardens, but I didn't want to go to both. I was outvoted, and was only slightly happier about it than the average Trump voter is about the last election. (Or are they all below average?) It was hot -- intentionally so: the plants like it that way -- and there were all these damn noisy Troll statues placed around to attract rugrats. Half the place is closed, and management's idea of social distancing makes the whole god-damn thing a one-way maze. The flowers were pretty. The stuff out back about carbon-footprint reduction was interesting. Some of the plants were fake; I don't know why, but trying to pick them out kept my interest up through two rooms of the conservatory. The food in the cafeteria was thoroughly New Age, mostly gluten-free and vegan and uninteresting and overpriced. I had a cup of thin, bland soup and a serving of the moral smugness that comes from pointed sacrifice.
The drive home to Texas was uneventful. Three days on the freeway were interrupted only by a traffic jam in Cincinnatti and the need to stop at a bar in Kentucky for a pair of soccer matches; and the only side-trip was a brief search for a truly disappointing monument to the Everly Brothers.
And I've decided that it's pointless taking the convertible on trips like this. If we'd left on Saturday instead of Sunday, it might have been different (though I doubt it). As it was, of the entire 2400 mile trip up to and back from Pittsburgh, only about 200 miles was off-freeway, and it rained hard for half that distance. Only about 40 miles of that 200 was on backroads where it would have been nice to have the top down. It rained most of that time. We put the top down only once, briefly. (I also had it down for a pleasant 16-mile round trip to the bank and the gas station in the Pittsburgh suburbs. That hardly makes up for anything.) And, of course, the Subaru gets better mileage and uses regular gas, and we probably could have dispensed with the rental SUV, had I chosen to take it.
Years ago, I took my old Nissan on the condo trip to San Diego, with Sherry. She had to work, though, so she flew home, while I drove alone across the West. I remember driving Highway 12 in Southern Utah and feeling pained that I wasn't in my little convertible on such a beautiful road, and decided then that I wouldn't do that again. But now she's retired, which means she goes with me both ways, which means the dog stays in the kennel until we get home. Which means we don't wander much. Which means there's no point in taking the convertible.
