A Day Downstate

My indulgences are usually minor.  Not shallow, as some element of memory gets imprinted.  Time to put myslef on the move, if only for one day.  It divides into four segments, the trip to Cape Henlopen State Park, beach time, a brewery, the drive home.  Each offers a certain relaxation, a certain comfort that makes Day Trips one of those recurrent initiatives on my Semi-Annual Projects.

Before getting there, a little planning needs to take place.  What to bring, where to stop, whether to go solo or as a couple.  Full beach bag with most contingencies covered.  Car serviced the day before, including battery replacement, enough gas for a round trip, what time to leave and return.  Sunscreen before heading off. 

Then to the roads.  The drive to my destination takes about two hours, usually with one stop, typically at a WaWa to get what I will have for lunch if I plan to eat lunch.  These two hours are quiet time, me time.  When my wife accompanies me the radio plays classical.  When I go alone, the radio mostly stays off.  I pay attention to traffic and road signs.  EZ Pass means I need not stop for tolls.  Dry weather allows cruise control, set at approximately the speed of traffic in the middle lane of the interstate.  One bridge to cross over a canal.  Scenery changes south of that canal, from suburban sprawl to farmland and churches, isolated mini-mansions from people who have done well living outside the main commercial centers.  The highway bypasses the state capital but runs through our state's largest federal facility, an air force base complete with golf course to the right of the highway.  The interstate then changes to a two lane mostly divided road with periodic stoplights and a fair number of cross streets with only stop signs for the people on those streets to safely access or cross the main road.  At the roadside are gas stations, a series of car dealerships south of the state capital, a few places to eat, an occasional farmers market.  This being near the month's conclusion, the fuzzy wuzzies had patrol cars in abundance to fill their speeding ticket quotas and no shortage of speeders to pull over.

As I got to my only stop, it being Hoagiefest at WaWa, one of their annual events, I got a large discounted vegetarian hoagie which I put in my canvas beach bag.  Though past the midpoint, I still had not committed to which beach would be my destination.  I scrolled through my cellphone's Waze App, looking at the distances and travel times to Cape Henlopen or Delaware Seashore.  Cape Henlopen was a little closer and did not anticipate significant traffic, so even though Delaware Seashore had no turns and a consumer amenities at the beach, I stayed with Cape Henlopen.  The GPS took me though a route I had not been before, usually an attraction, though this time with one intersection whose ample cross traffic had right of way.  Eventually I safely crossed, making my way to the park's entrance.  As holder of a Lifetime Senior Pass, I got into the express lane, flashed my card to the gate attendant who immediately waved me in.  Then just following signs to the beach and choosing my preferred parking space.  Toting my beach bag, now with hoagie added, and lugging my sand chair made for some exercise, even though I made sure to do my scheduled treadmill session before leaving home.

Ordinarily, I begin at the men's locker in preparation for time on the sand.  I delayed this, opting to eat the hoagie before getting changed.  The wooden deck adjacent to the concrete walk had three wooden picnic tables, all a bit worn.  Two were unoccupied so I sat down, unwrapping my sandwich.  The roll seemed a bit smaller than the ones provided by the WaWa near my home, but the fillings were how I had specified them.  While I exercised before leaving home, I did not eat breakfast.  Typically the large hoagie provides lunches on consecutive days, but being hungry I ate both at the picnic table, feeling a little more full than optimal at the end.  State Parks have a carry-in/carry out rule, so they do not have litter baskets.  I took the sandwich's wrapper, squshed it to a small cylinder, the put it in a minor clearing amid the other items in the beach bag.  Then to the locker, swimsuit on, shorts in bag, same t-shirt and sandals that I drove in,  With sand chair in one hand, canvas tote in the other, I walked the wooden ramp toward the shore.  It eventually divides with a few steps downward on the left and a longer ramp sloping downward on the right.  There being fewer people on the beach left of the ramp, I opted for the stairs, then carried my stuff to a clearing not that far distant, comfortably back of the tideline.  I had remembered to exchange my current bifocals for a previous prescription, as once a wave tore them off my face and out to sea.  Chair set, I plopped myself down for an afternoon of pleasant sloth.  

Surf was definitely up.  High cresting waves with impressive breakers.  While Medicare pays for injuries and Social Security offers survivor benefits to spouses, nobody my age appeared to chance entering the water.  Neither did I.  Watching the waves break, wash on shore, the tide nudging closer to my chair and beach tote every few minutes would have to suffice.  I bought a transistor radio and ear bud.  Brought some chocolate wafers obtained at the Dollar Store a week earlier.  Floppy had shielding me from the not too intense sun, I simply rested.  The radio never has great reception.  Access to internet also inconsistent, and I am careful to either hold the phone or keep it in a plastic pouch, having my last one destroyed by an unexpected tide surge.  An electronic note to FB friends.  Took a video of the crashing waves, 50 seconds of film, but unable to upload it as a FB comment.  Had brought my next Torah portion to study, but did not open the leather portfolio which carried it.  Just time in the chair, minor use of my device, partly to access FB, partly to see if I could access Israeli radio from the global FM app, partly classical on the minitransistor radio.  As the tide reached my position, I moved the chair and tote farther from the shore.  Had to do this twice.

Not a lot to see.  No revealing swimsuits at this beach, unlike my experience at Florida's Atlantic last winter.  Very few gulls.  As the surf became more aggressive, only a few hardy or foolhardy people who appeared to range in age from late grade school to early college took a chance in the water.  Usually a flag is displayed at the lifeguard stand on surf safety, but I did not notice any.

While I remained physically idle, my mind more typically engages in something.  But this time it also shut down.  No reading.  Did not pay a lot of attention to the radio.  With a large lunch, even the chocolate wafers did not seem all that tempting.  I had set a time to leave even before I arrive.  The wristwatch indicated that departure time was nearing, just as peak tide required me to reposition my stuff one more time.  I gathered my things, put the sandals back on, folded the chair, and slowly returned to the locker.  Many fewer people on the beach and many fewer cars in the parking lot when I moved on than when I arrived.  To the locker, exchanged dry swimsuit for underwear and shorts, then back to the parking lot where I found my row on the second try, overlooking what should have been an easy landmark.  Sand chair in trunk.  Tote on the floor in next to the front passenger seat.  The a few minutes in the car assessing the next destination.

Still faulty internet.  Breweries near me brought up far fewer on my screen than expected, not even Dogfish Head's main brewery about ten miles away.  It is often a default destination on my way home from the beach, as it offers considerable variety.  However, en route, I also saw a sign for a brewery near the state capital in Dover that I might like to try.  I could not access their web site from the parking lot, however.  Stopping a the parking lot of the park's Nature Center, which has a building, I thought I might have a better web connection, but no luck there either.  To the exit, where I set Waze for Dogfish Head, but at the red lights accessed the site of the Dover Brewery.  Tours on hold.  Another trip.

The GPS guided me through some rural paths, fronted by a mixture of farmland and modest houses, until a few turns took me to the Dogfish Head complex.  I took some photos for later posting on FB, then entered their reception room.  Their company had been taken over by a bigger conglomerate, another pioneer in craft beer that approaches the volume of a mass brewer.  As a consequence, or maybe independent of this, the Dogfish Head bar offerings have gotten more expensive, now $10 for four three ounce samples, though still an immense variety to select the four.  Far more people were now sipping pints, four more ounces of beer for $3 less.  And their makeshift food kiosk has been significantly upgraded, but with my Hoagiefest lunch, I did not desire more food.  I chose my flight served in four mini-brandy snifters.  Big disappointment.  Two beers excessively adulterated with citrus and Indian spices, respectively.  Other two probably in keeping with German ingredient restrictions to malted barley, hops, water, and yeast both had an unappealing finish.  Unlikely I would ever order a pint of any of these at an independent restaurant.  Finished them slowly, then to the car where I reset Waze to get me home.  A little tricky to get from a small intersection without a traffic light, cross the highway's southbound lanes during a transient break in fast moving cars, then merge to the northbound lanes, again waiting for a break in traffic.  But once on the highway, a straight path home.

The only place that I would consider stopping, in fact consider each trip but never do, is the DQ associated with an Exxon station right before the road with a few traffic lights becomes a full limited access full speed highway.  Between hoagie and mini-beers, no interest in their Blizzard this trip.  Just home.  EZ Pass debited as I crossed the tolls, just the weekday fee of $1 for the highway and another $1 for the bridge.  Home.  A little sore.  Reasonably refreshed.  Adequately amused.

WaWa Returns

While bored with what was on live TV, I streamed some favorite recorded shows, settling for a Modern Marvels episode on convenience stores.  WaWa, the dominant chain in our region, had a significant presence as state of the art approaches to processing customers in and out.  My own purchases are rather predictable, mostly gasoline, typically on Friday.  When I was working, coffee would sometimes be a separate pre-highway stop, and maybe a vegetable-bagel sandwich which seems discontinued from the current menu, as Modern Marvels suggested that fate for items that do not sell, do not attract customers, do not generate a profit, or are labor intensive.  While coffee generally has a better price than the coffee or breakfast chains, it is also easy to make at home and when necessary transfer to my own travel mug so since retiring, WaWa coffee has never been a priority, though I can be swayed by the $1 any size promotions.  They have Hoagie Fest periodically, $5 for a large custom hoagie.  Not the best by any means but a best buy.  And they have promotions on milk shakes, $2 for the pint size or $1 for a 32oz soda available in more varieties than anyplace else from a machine that I find intriguing.  And they have a cash machine that rarely brings me in for that alone but which I access if inside the store for something else.

As a food and fuel supplier, they were able to remain open during the Covid-19 closures, though utilization, at least on my part, changed significantly.  I drove less so some Fridays I did not fill my gas tank, or if I didn't want to go inside to the convenience store, I sometimes went someplace other than my usual WaWa.  And I never went inside.  My one indulgence, coffee, was not on sale.  More importantly, they eliminated the self-serve aspect which I depend on to customize what the mood brings me.  They have displays of type of coffee, different whiteners, different sweeteners, some additives.  It's not the same when you need to tell the lady at the counter what you want when you could be choosing among white, brown, or no sugar yourself.  And at full price, it's better just to use my k-cups.

Some recent advertising revealed the $1 any size promotion had returned.  Not that I need to make a special trip for coffee.  But since I needed gas, I went inside and found the self-serve completely restored except for the missing cinnamon and chocolate shakers.  Special on Blueberry Cobbler.  I filled my cup to 20 oz, added only light cream, and a travel top.  As a bonus, the promotion on milkshakes has also returned.  Later maybe.

Out for Coffee

Coffee and me go back to college.  The school cafeteria offered breakfast coffee for 10 cents with unlimited refills.  Most mornings I would get a bow tie pastry with it, streusel + confectioners sugar coated for 25 cents, leaving me with energy for AM classes.  Within a year, I found an orange percolator that served me well studying for exams at night through medical school.  Can't remember where I lost it.  My father drank instant.  Phooey.

Living in Harvard housing, the Square had a shop called Coffee Connection, introduced to me by my wife.  They may have been the precursor to Starbucks, which eventually absorbed them.  Early on a weekend morning I could head over there and purchase a brew in an individual French press.  They had multiple types and you could buy beans, thus my first home coffee grinder, a blade type.  As I ventured to Fanueil Hall Marketplace, there were other places to sample different coffees,  12 oz for about 75 cents.  My home still had canned coffee, whatever was discounted at the supermarket, though by then I had developed a preference for Folgers over the other large commercial brands.  Only one blend per manufacturer at the time.

Fondness for coffee has continued to this day.  I have a bunch of French Presses, a keurig maker, three coffee cones, two drip machines, a stovetop percolator and and electric percolator, not to mention a party sized urn that rarely gets used and both manual and electric espresso makers.  My staple, though has been the keurig cups, enabling variety and ease of use with small sacrifice to taste.  Why ever go out?

Despite my gadgetry, I cannot duplicate what Starbucks and the like do.  WaWa has some varieties of good consistency at a lower price which I get when I am in transit.  When coffee houses were a novelty to me, the coffee in its variety, made with expertise, was my destination.  More recently, though, the destination has been less beverage and more transient space rental while I plan my week on Sunday mornings at the Brew HaHa or take my laptop to Starbucks to rent space at their counter while I type an essay.  Artists and Bohemians have been meeting at European coffee houses for centuries, less to drink coffee and more to expand their minds with each other.  I do it alone, but same basic principle.  Since the purpose is to minimize distraction and promote focus, I stopped going to the nearest Starbucks with loud music and traffic in favor of a newer one, more thoughtfully laid out to enable productive efforts.  The Brew HaHa is also quiet with the tables placed away from customer traffic.  And my car, with it's paper 20 oz cup of Ethiopian or Peruvian special, affords me the ultimate in solitude as I pay attention to the road.  Usually I have a destination, sometimes important, sometimes not.  So while coffee has remained a cheap hobby for me from my earliest adult years, sometimes the taste is supportive of something else that often has greater importance.  But we don't engage in great thought sipping Maxwell House.