writing – Page 18 – Roadkill Crossing

A Photo Essay: Following the Path of Apostle Paul – Day 6

We hated to leave Samos. We enjoyed it so much.

Nevertheless, we were up early again to catch the ferry to our next adventure, the island of Patmos. The island hopping via ferry began in earnest.

I took a few photos of Pythagereio as the ferry sped away. We stopped at a few small island villages to pick up and drop off passengers. The island ferries have their routine down pat. Some passengers deboarded while we welcomed others on board and were off at one stop in just over a minute. We arrived in Skala harbor, Patmos, Greece, right on time. The ferry operators clearly run a tight ship.

As soon as Skala came into view, Samos became a pleasant memory, and I focused on new, unknown adventures on Patmos. We walked briefly from the port’s pier to our lovely Blue Bay hotel.

It wasn’t long before we boarded a bus and rode halfway up the mountain to the Cave of the Apocalypse. Here, the Apostle John saw his vision that became the book of Revelation in the Bible. We entered the room leading to the cave with awe and reverence. No photos of the cave itself were permitted.

John had been banished to Patmos from Ephesus by the Romans. Patmos was considered a barren island, where prisoners were often sent. On a clear day, John could just about see his beloved Ephesus from his cave. Ironically, John later returned to Ephesus, where he died naturally, the only disciple to do so.

We retreated to a shaded area in bleachers above the building built around the sacred cave. Our leader, Linford, had a message for us. He couldn’t speak very loud since another group was holding a mass just below us. Rather than summarize the talk, please watch the informative video below. Please turn your sound up all the way to hear the talk.

After Linford finished his fun sea shanty, we went to the mountain’s top via bus and visited the Greek Orthodox Monastery of St. John the Theologian. Both the monastery and the cave are UNESCO World Heritage Sites. The town of Chora is built around the monastery.

After a light lunch, we rode back down the mountain and checked in at our hotel. We had the rest of the day to tour Skala, a town as beautiful and quaint as Pythagereio on Samos.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

Neva and I found a recommended family-owned seafood restaurant away from the harbor area. We were the only customers at 6:30 p.m., but by 7, every table was filled. The restaurant’s owner doubled as our waiter. I ordered sea bass, which he caught in the morning.

Once the sun went down, the little town came alive. A political rally near the harbor may have contributed to that crowd and excitement. It was a very fulfilling day we’ll remember for a long time.

Tomorrow: On to the island of Kos

A Photo Essay: Following the Path of Apostle Paul – Days 4 & 5

We were up early to catch a short flight to the island of Samos. In fact, the trip to the airport took longer than the flight.

Morning traffic on the way to the Athens airport.

We went to Samos because it was one of the ports where a ship carrying the Apostle Paul stopped. From Acts 20, verse 15, it appears it was simply an overnight stay. The island was the birthplace of two influential men, Pythagoras and Epicurus.

The town where Paul stayed is called Pythagoreio in honor of the famous mathematician. A statue honoring Pythagoras is situated midway on one of the town’s harbor piers.

It wasn’t just his math abilities that garnered great respect for Pythagoras. A giant underground aqueduct was dug through the mountainside in the 6th century B.C. to gain a regular fresh water supply. The Eupalinian Tunnel ran nearly 3,400 feet through Mount Kastro to bring potable water from the island’s west side.

Conditions for digging the tunnel were horrible, and workers argued about the fairness of their wages, paid in wine and bread. Workers claimed they had slaved harder than others. To solve this dilemma, Pythagoras invented the Cup of Justice, also called the Pythagorean Cup, so that all workers received their fair share.

The cup has a protrusion in its middle and a line around the inside to show how much wine should be poured into it. Should a worker fill the cup beyond the line, the cup would rapidly drain its contents via a siphon system. That ingenious device halted the arguing and greed of some of the workers. Artisans produce the cups and decorate them to be sold to tourists. Of course, we bought one.

Our time in Samos was joyous and relaxing. We had lots of free time to explore the town with its cobblestone streets and sidewalks, find our own restaurants, and enjoy the quiet and beauty.

As we explored Pythagereio, we discovered many wonderful alleys and buildings. An old castle and the adjacent church were still closed due to damage from an earthquake a few years ago.

Just down the hill was Blue Street, not much more than a sidewalk with most everything painted blue by the local retired artists who lived there. We found their creations fun and attractive. They painted everything from manhole covers to doorways.

Most of all, though, my wife and I simply enjoyed sitting on a bench near the customs station on the harbor. We viewed the quaint town from our seats and enjoyed watching a few boats come and go.

On the second day, we rode a bus to the western part of the island and toured a wine museum. Samos is famous for its sweet Muscot wine. The island’s western side is much more lush than the leeward side since it rains more.

Once we started downhill toward the town of Vathy, the greenery of trees, shrubs, and grasses stood in stark contrast to the arid brushy topography on the eastern side. We also visited a monastery above Pythagereio containing a cave and a chapel. It wasn’t far from the aqueduct tunnel.

Samos is separated from Turkey by the mile-wide Mycale Strait in the eastern Aegean Sea. The Greek navy maintains a station on Samos with several boats moored in the harbor. We enjoyed the sunrises over the mountains in Turkey.

Tomorrow: The island of Patmos

A Photo Essay: Following the Path of Apostle Paul – Day 2

This was a day I had long anticipated. Neither my wife nor I had ever been to Greece, and I especially looked forward to visiting the Acropolis. Our tour group of two dozen people saw some of the locations the Apostle Paul did on his multiple trips around the Mediterranean Sea. Linford Stutzman, a retired professor from Eastern Mennonite University in Harrisonburg, Virginia, and his wife, Janet, led the trip.

The Acropolis was an easy walk from our hotel in Athens. Before we gathered on the narrow street in front of the hotel, I noticed a large crane extending from our side of the street to the top floor of the apartment building across the way. It was set up to deliver some heavy marble countertops for the kitchen that was being remodeled.

Walking down to street level, I noticed a young woman photographing every step. I asked her if that was her apartment, and she said she was a civil engineer in charge of the project. She was documenting how the crane would get the heavy pieces up to the apartment for another client in London, England, who would do the same thing.

About that time, city workers came down the alley, pressure washing the sidewalks and the street. No construction crew would stop them. They merely worked around them and kept going.

The rest of the group arrived, and we were off for the Acropolis. However, before entering the historic grounds, Linford wanted to give us some background on Paul and the sermon he delivered on Aropagus Hill, sometimes referred to as Mars Hill, as outlined in Acts 17:22–31.

From the hill, we could see the reconstructed Stoa of Attalos next to the Ancient Agora of Athens, where Paul spent time observing and conversing. Beyond was the sprawling city of modern Athens.

After Linford’s talk, we were free to explore the Acropolis independently. The lines for tickets were long, but since we had tickets for mid-morning, we walked right in. Climbing the steps through and around those ancient columns was thrilling. When we reached the top, the Parthenon dominated the view.

Like many old structures, the Parthenon is being repaired and stabilized for future generations. We had to watch our steps as we went. Old and worn rocks protruded from the walkways or were sunken into them. On the far side of the Parthenon, one elderly lady had fallen because of the uneven footing. Trained emergency personnel were working with her.

I was amazed at all the broken columns and cornices lying around. Most were roped off so visitors wouldn’t bother them. Many were piled up and cataloged in other areas atop the Acropolis.

As the sun rose higher in the sky, the temperature heated up. We decided to head back down the way we came. I was shocked at the number of people working their way up, making our exit difficult.

We headed for the Museum of the Acropolis just down the hill. Our first stop was the cafe for a light lunch and to cool off. The museum was huge and had thousands of artifacts from the Acropolis and explanations of their meaning and importance.

Another interesting feature was that the museum was built over an active archeological dig. I found that fascinating and enjoyed seeing the various rooms of the homes being excavated. The water and sewer systems were equally interesting.

After resting a while, the group hiked to the site of the original modern-day Olympics, which began in 1896. The stadium is now reconstructed but does contain a few pieces of masonry from the original Olympic stadium. Of course, we visited the museum and gift shop. Our group ended the day with a nice meal together.

Tomorrow: On to Corinth.

A Photo Essay: Following the Path of the Apostle Paul – Day 1

My wife and I recently returned from a two-week trip to Greece and Rome. I will share our experiences through a series of photo essays beginning today.

The trip’s theme was to follow parts of the Apostle Paul’s three trips between Jerusalem and Rome. Our guides were Linford and Janet Stutzman.

My wife spent part of the nearly 10-hour flight reading.

In 2004, Linford and Janet bought an old sailboat in Greece, fixed it up, and sailed the paths and ports of Paul while on sabbatical from Eastern Mennonite University, where Linford was a professor of religion. Their epic trip led to Linford writing an excellent book about their adventures, SailingActs.

Our itinerary began in Athens, where Paul preached a sermon on Aropagus Hill, just south of the Acropolis and the Parthenon. But first, we had to wait for all 24 group members to arrive, which they did by nightfall.

Consequently, our first day of the trip was spent traveling by air from Washington/Dulles International Airport to Athens. Once on the ground in Greece, our taxi took a circuitous route from the airport to the hotel due to a race for a cancer cure near the Acropolis. Many streets were blocked off for the 40,000 race participants.

We spent the evening familiarizing ourselves with the area and shopped in the Plaka, a market/restaurant area between the Acropolis and our hotel. On our stroll around the area, we did get our first glimpse of the Acropolis.

I was surprised to see so many cats running loose in the city. Apparently, felines are revered in Athens and likely help keep the critter population down. Many cats roamed the narrow streets, businesses, apartment buildings, and restaurants.

Tomorrow: The Acropolis.

Summer’s Last Sunset

Silhouetted trees at sunset. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh

The Autumnal Equinox was a week ago for those living in the Northern Hemisphere. I was fortunate to catch the summer’s last sunset as I stepped out the front door of our daughter’s house in Harrisonburg, Virginia.

It had been cloudy all day, so the illuminated western sky was a pleasant surprise. I didn’t have my camera along, so all these photos were captured by my iPhone 14 mini.

When my wife and I reached an open spot on a hill behind Eastern Mennonite University, the sunset was reaching its peak. I snapped my way to the space that provided an unobstructed view of the Allegheny Mountains 30 miles away.

I was amazed at the various colors that summer’s final sunset produced. The blues and pinks hung high in the evening sky. Closer to the horizon, the warmer colors dominated.

It was a pretty punctuation mark on a summer that brought tornadoes, flooding, drought, wildfires, and days on end of gray skies here in the usually picturesque Shenandoah Valley.

Mole Hill is in the foreground left and the Allegheny Mountains are beyond.

Hot Air Balloon Surprise

One of a pair of hot air balloons that landed in our neighborhood. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

My wife and I had just returned from an overnight trip to Lansdale, Pennsylvania, visiting friends. We were tired from driving and had settled in for the evening to watch our favorite baseball team, the Cleveland Guardians. Then, our neighbor Jonathan came over to tell us two hot air balloons were sailing south of our home.

I went out the back door and photographed the balloons high in the sky. However, it didn’t take long to realize that the balloons were quickly descending. There wasn’t much wind, which isn’t unusual around sunset, so I wasn’t sure where they would land. We soon found out.

When I first sighted the hot air balloons.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

Both balloons began sinking toward our house. They briefly went out of sight but silently reappeared over other neighbors’ homes. Thinking they were aiming for our local park, Neva and I jumped in the car and headed there. I drove carefully as children raced on bicycles and people ran from their homes to watch the balloons land.

I initially drove into the park, but the first balloon was already on the ground, swarmed by curious folks, young and old. It was then I heard the second balloon fire its gas burner. I looked up, and it was between two houses, still heading north. It had overshot the park. We got in the car and drove to find where this balloon would set down.

When we found it, the skillful pilot had already gingerly landed it on a narrow street in our suburban housing development. With a tree on each side of the road, it had been a tight landing. The pilot kept opening the gas valve burner briefly to create more heat to keep the balloon’s envelope from collapsing into one of the trees. He kept firing the burner until the ground team arrived with the trailer to haul the balloons and their baskets back home.

As much as I enjoy baseball, I will take this unexpected and extraordinary entertainment any day.

The first balloon landed safely in the community park at sunset. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

American Flamingos in Pennsylvania

One of two American Flamingos near Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

This is how birding works. Just before my wife and I left to visit our 16-month-old grandson and his parents in Rochester, NY, a friend in Florida posted on social media about American Flamingos being spotted in a farm pond in south-central Pennsylvania.

I knew we couldn’t stop on the way up, but I hoped beyond hope that the birds would still be there when we left for our home in the Shenandoah Valley on Monday. I checked the American Birding Association’s rare bird alert daily as we enjoyed visiting with our son and his young family.

On Monday morning, the birds were still there and reportedly very easy to see. In all my years of birding, I’ve heard that before, only to arrive five minutes after the birds flew off into the sunset. In the birding world, that’s called “dipping.”

It was a six-hour drive from Rochester to St. Thomas Township, Franklin County, Pennsylvania. When we left Rochester, the day was partly sunny. By the time we reached the state line of the Keystone State, it started to rain. I kept my mind on my driving. I wanted to see those birds, but we had to get there first. So, I drove carefully.

The ABA rare bird alert included the GPS coordinates, so I figured we would drive right to the farm pond, which we almost did. We had Waze plugged into the car’s GPS system while I used my Google Maps for backup. I wasn’t taking any chances.

I am so glad I did because Waze said we had arrived when all we had were fields on the right and a line of houses on the left. My Google Maps saved the day, and we circled around and found Pond Lane.

The countryside was gorgeous. Puffy white clouds floated by in a bright blue sky. The large, rolling fields of soybeans served as a two-tone yellow and green carpet below. Fieldstone farmhouses and red barns dotted the landscape.

Soybeans beneath a late summer sky.
Sweeping fertile fields.
The old homestead.
Fields, forests, and mountains.
The old stone house and Black Angus in the shade.
A mountain in the backyard.

As we approached from the west, I smiled because I could see a string of cars parked along the road and birders on the opposite side looking through spotting scopes and binoculars. As I slowly approached the scene, my wife shouted, “I see one!” I parked the car in the first space on the north side of the road and raced to the spot where my wife saw the flamingo.

Sure enough, there it was. The beautiful pink bird was standing on one leg in the middle of the shallow pond. It had its head tucked under its left wing, sleeping. I got a quick photo between two trees and then walked up to where most birders stood with an unobstructed view. It was a little farther away, but we could see it clearly through the binoculars and my camera’s viewfinder.

My wife helped steady me in the warm wind rushing over and down the nearby Appalachian Mountains to the west. Once the bird awoke, it waded, fed, and preened in the afternoon sun. I asked another birder where the second flamingo was. I didn’t like the answer.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

In the early morning hours after sunrise, a snapping turtle bit the other flamingo in the leg, injuring it. A wildlife rehab center was notified, and personnel arrived and captured the injured bird. Surgery was performed to fix the broken leg. It still remains in their care.

The other flamingo continued to thrill birders who arrived from near and far. How did birds that should be in the Bahama Islands and the Florida Keys get to Pennsylvania? The most plausible answer is that Hurricane Idalia blew them north.

That is the accepted answer because American Flamingos were located in 10 states, some well inland like these birds. Birders from other states were chiming in on the social media conversations, wishing for the flamingos to be found in their states, too.

Why such fuss over the flamingos? Well, in every state except Florida, the sighting of the flamingos was a record first for each of those states. Birders take their hobby seriously. Consequently, they keep many lists and records by recording the bird species, where it was seen, the date(s), and times. The Cornell Laboratory in Ithaca, New York, is the official state and national records compiler.

I had seen flamingos in Florida and Texas before, but seeing this beautiful bird so far inland was extra special. And it was all thanks to a hurricane.

The farm pond in Pennsylvania where the American Flamingo was observed. The bird is just right of the willow tree in the foreground. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

Exploring the Newest National Park

The view from Grandview Point. Photo by Bruce Stambaugh.

Located east of Beckley, West Virginia, New River Gorge National Park and Preserve is a gem of a place. My wife and I recently visited there for two days. Our goal was to see the New River Gorge Bridge. We experienced much more than that. Also, I finally learned an important life lesson.

Because we usually avoid driving on I-81, we took Virginia 42 southwest through the Allegheny Highlands’ beautiful hills, valleys, small towns, and mountain gaps. We stopped at Augusta Springs Wetlands to bird along the boardwalk. We saw a number of lovely wildflowers and 21 species of birds. The next stop was the Humpback Covered Bridge west of Covington, Virginia.

But it was the national park we wanted to see most. The park has four visitor centers because of its mountainous terrain and steep gorge. Sandstone Visitor Center was our first stop just off I-64. The helpful ranger gave us excellent advice on the roads to travel and what to expect.

Our first stop was the observation area of Sandstone Falls. They were as beautiful as advertised, but the falls weren’t running at full force with so little rain this summer. We drove along the railroad tracks to the quaint town of Hinton, where we crossed to the west side of the New River. We drove north a few miles to reach the boardwalk that took us near the river’s main flow.

Eastern section of Sandstone Falls.
Rapids and Sandstone Falls.
Eastern side of Sandstone Falls.
Spicebush Swallowtail on Cardinal Flower.
The western section of Sandstone Falls.
Western section of Sandstone Falls.
The fastest flow.

I wanted to get a closer shot, so I headed across an island of ancient debris of huge boulders smoothed by years of flowing water. Scattered among the rocks were large trunks of trees, their bark long scoured away. It finally hit me that I shouldn’t have attempted this trek. I eased my way over rocks and rivulets to the shore of the river’s main course. I got the shots I wanted and returned to the boardwalk via an easier route.

Our next stop was Grandview, and what a view it was. We looked down 1,000 feet to see one of the horseshoe bends of the New River. The sun bathed the hillside forests and illuminated the riverside train tracks.

On the second day, we headed to the nearly abandoned town of Thurmond, a boomtown in the coal mining heydays. Today, only five folks live there. They all serve on the town council. One is the mayor, one is the secretary and the other three serve as council members. It was fascinating to walk the town of the once thriving businesses. Fortunately, the daily Amtrak train stopped to pick up a lone passenger while we were there. As the train pulled away, I realized a freight train had stopped on the mainline, allowing the Amtrak train to pass. It was a double treat for this train enthusiast.

On the way out of Thurmond, the road snaked along Dunlop Creek and a train track. Because of the steep descent of the topography, the creek had many rapids and small waterfalls. The sun broke through the thick tree canopy to highlight one of the falls.

Finally, we took in the magnificence of the historic New River Gorge Bridge. The bridge carries U.S. 19. Consequently, the visitor center and the observation boardwalks were much more crowded than the other locales.

I wanted to get a photo of the bridge from the river view. The only way to do that was to wind our way down narrow roadways with several sharp switchbacks. There were a few places to stop along the way, including one right under the famous bridge.

We continued down the twisting road, the river’s rapids on the right, bearing their white teeth. Soon we made a sharp, right-hand turn and drove across the old bridge to the designated parking lot. I told my wife I was heading to the bridge we had just crossed to photograph the New River Gorge Bridge, which spans 3,030 feet across the New River Gorge and is 876 feet above the river. The bridge is the longest single-span arch bridge in the world.

Rafters about to hit the rapids.
The New River Gorge Bridge.
The New River Gorge with the old bridge in the lower right.
Under the bridge.
Rafters and the old bridge.
The size of the boulders and the old bridge.
Running the rapids.
The New River Gorge Bridge taken from the old bridge.

However, I got distracted. I first heard and then saw whitewater rafters running the rapids with others waiting their turn. So, I hustled toward the water’s edge only to discover even bigger boulders than I had at Sandstone Falls. Wanting close-up shots, I scrambled across the rocks as carefully as I could. But the rafters were faster than this 75-year-old grandfather with a bad back and weak knees. Though only 50 feet from the water, I knew I should stop for safety’s sake. I got a few photos, including one lone kayaker who got turned around and bounced through the whitewater backward, just missing a giant rock. As soon as he hit calm water, he headed to the eastern shoreline to compose himself. I was doing the same in preparation for meeting my wife since I had been gone long enough to take the bridge photos and be back already.

After 52 years of marriage, I knew that look when I told her what I had done. I confessed that I should not have gone down there alone on those large slippery rocks. I hustled to get the coveted New River bridge photos. We drove back under the bridge on the switchback narrow roadway until we reached US 19.

The thrills I got from these two days easily could not block out my aches and pains. We learned a lot about the newest national park. And finally, after seven and a half decades, I realized I wasn’t 25 anymore.

It’s a Subaru Thing

This is not a commercial.

In recent years, I have noticed many Subaru vehicles plastered with stickers of all kinds, mostly on their back windows. Some of the decals promote conservation, some politics, and some are head-scratchers.

I figured I would document my observations when I came upon this one.

Please click on the photos to enlarge them.

What do you think? Have you seen Subarus covered with multiple decals like these? And for full disclosure, my Forester only has two such stickers. And yes, they are on the rear window.

Expect the Unexpected

A male Indigo Bunting preening along the Appalachian Trail.

Whenever I go exploring, I can always expect the unexpected. It’s what drives me to get out of doors.

I headed to Shenandoah National Park to mainly photograph butterflies. I had seen photos from the park with Turks Cap Lilies blooming. Those lovely flowers are magnets for butterflies.

I knew a place in the park where I had previously seen butterflies flock to the beautiful lilies. It happened to be where the Appalachian Trail crosses Skyline Drive. The location also had a parking lot designed primarily for day hikers.

I pulled in and was immediately disappointed. No Turks Cap Lilies were to be found. Across the road, other wildflowers were blooming, so I started heading there.

When I go to the park, it should be no surprise that I multitask. My camera is strapped across my left shoulder for easy access, and my binoculars dangle around my neck for wildlife spotting, especially birds.

Just as I reached the crosswalk, a bird flushed out of the undergrowth to a dead tree limb at the forest’s edge. It was a male Indigo Bunting, always a beautiful bird to see.

I stopped, swung my camera around, aimed, focused, and clicked away. As I did so, this beautiful bird began to preen in the morning sunshine. The lighting was perfect, and the bird entertained me for several minutes before a passing car caused it to dive for cover.

Butterflies were few and far between as I checked in at different locations in the park. Nevertheless, watching this enchanting bird for those precious minutes made the trip worthwhile.