Climbing Around the Falls of the Ohio

One of my favorite outdoor spots in Louisville is actually in Indiana. 

We tried to visit the Falls of the Ohio a few years ago, in August. The fossil beds can get something like 20 degrees hotter than whatever the temperature is, and on that day, the temperature was already too much. We made it halfway down the banks of the river before we turned around.

But the Falls of the Ohio in November? Perfect. 

I like this spot because the Ohio is a different river on this side of the McAlpine dam. From Waterfront Park and the Big Four Bridge, the river looks slow and wide, and for whatever reason, I always wonder if I could swim across it (but I wonder that about most bodies of water). Pushed through the dam, the water turns to rapids and becomes powerful, intimidating, banishing all thoughts of swimming. 

Can't swim in that. 

I like the Falls of the Ohio because the path and guardrails from the interpretive center stop halfway to the river. From there, you can pick your path to the river, scrambling over boulders and climbing over bleached, beached tree trunks. There's nothing and no one (at least on Sunday) stopping you from walking up to the dam. 

And there's no signage (that I saw) explaining the siren from the dam that sounded at 1 o'clock. 

We took it to mean, "Run away!" which we did until it stopped. None of the fishermen seemed concern, and logically, I figured it didn't mean, "We're opening this and flushing you out." The few results Google has imply that it might actually mean that, but no one seemed to care. Do you know what it is? Because apart from terrifying alarms, the Falls are wonderful. It would be reassuring to know for sure that I don't risk drowning from open floodgates while climbing around.  

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Photos from a September Louisville Jaunt

In September, I entered some photos into a competition sponsored by Preservation Louisville. I did not win, but I loved biking and driving around to the different buildings on their Top 10 Preservation Successes list. Here are some of my favorite shots from my jaunt about town.

Shawnee Library

I always like going new places, and there were several buildings on that list that I'd never seen (and still haven't -- after one long bike ride and a shorter drive, I abandoned the farther locations). The Shawnee Library was new to me. I loved the addition so much that I took most of my pictures from the back. Because it was Sunday morning, the library was closed, but I'll have to go back to see what it looks like inside. 

Union Station - TARC  

I've been inside Union Station before, and the inside is as beautiful as the exterior. There's also an original mule-drawn trolley inside. Definitely worth a visit. 

West Grocery & Liquor Store

This building was not on the Preservation Success List, but I love this entrance and its sassy paint. 

Morning Glory galore

Finally, I biked through an alley to get to one of the locations and found this wall of morning glory. I don't care if it's an invasive vine, this flower makes me happy. 

Have you found any gems in your home base lately? 

[Obvious] Travel Tip: Check the Map

The Rhône and Arve rivers join just east of downtown Geneva. Before the Rhône's green water swirls in completely with the Arve's brown, the two rivers seem to resist each other, almost forming a line -- green on one side, murky tan on the other (after looking at lots of pictures, I think there's actually a low wall that intensifies the effect).  

The first time I saw the confluence, I was on the bridge that spans the rivers just above the junction. I had a perfect view of the rivers meeting and the V of land that ends their separation. The colors stopped me that day, and when I returned to Geneva last month with my husband, I wanted to show him this spot. 

I'm good with directions and can usually find my way back to places I've been once without too much help from Google. So I led my husband down the banks of the Rhône, reassured by signs warning us against swimming (the icy Arve waters were just around the corner!). 

I got us to the confluence, but if you ever go yourself, make sure you're on the right side of the river. A quick Google map check would have reminded me to walk down the north bank of the Rhône, where you can access the bridge that provides this lovely view: 

Photo by wbayercom/Flickr

The south bank takes you to that peninsula, where you get the stench of the Arve and this view: 

Still cool, but not as good. 

Check the map, people Linda.

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Just Exploring the Tinguely Museum

Hike. Visit family. Drink Rivella and eat sausage on mountains. These are the things I usually do in Switzerland. Visiting museums is not a top priority on Swiss trips, but I would visit Basel's Tinguely Museum every time. 

Jean Tinguely was a Swiss sculptor best known for his kinetic sculptures. He collaborated with his second wife, Niki de Sainte Phalle, on the Stravinksy Fountain next to the  Pompidou Center in Paris. He's got a piece, Chaos I, in Columbus, Indiana. Basel has his Faschnachts-Brunnen  (literally, Carnival Fountain, but apparently it also goes by just "the Tinguely fountain") -- and the museum. 

I love a good interactive museum. The City Museum in St. Louis is less of a museum and more of a dangerous playground, but the Tinguely reminds me of it. In the main hall, you can climb stairs up and through a two-story conglomeration of steel, giant wheels, ladders, a carousel horse, fake geraniums in a window box, and an upside-down garden gnome dipped in and out of a vat of water.

Another garden gnome

Stamping on large buttons placed on the floor in front of the sculptures sets them into motion.To preserve the sculptures, timers monitor how frequently button-pushing activates them, so sometimes you push and nothing happens. You move on. Then the next guy comes along, and the sculpture's clanking scares you into scurrying back to catch it in action. 

This one makes music

The Tinguely is also home to one of the more terrifying sculptures I've seen. Tinguely used the remains of a burned-down farm house to build Mengele-Totentanz. It is like a nightmare you're shocked your brain would give you. With time, this room's shadows, chains, and skulls fade to a creepy memory, pushed aside in favor of the museum's big, clangy, fun pieces. I thought maybe it was a temporary installation, but no, it's always there, waiting for my next visit. And despite the creepiness, I'll always be open to another visit. 

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I Love the Fair, 2013 edition

I almost missed the state fair this year. 

I was out of town the first weekend, and by Wednesday, when we had no definite fair plans, I started to a panic. I almost caused a fight trying to get my husband to commit to a day, fearing the ducklings and quilts would be packed up before I could get my yearly dose. 

But this story ends well, with an impromptu, post-podcasting trip with Melissa. We only stayed four hours, but in that time, we made it through most of the exhibits. Tiny owl and bald eagle at the Kentucky Raptor Rehabilitation booth? Yes. Ducklings? Would I ever skip them? Cakes and enormous produce? But of course. 

A bald eagle carved from elk horn

With only a few hours on the second weekend, we made some sacrifices. We skipped the quilts, saw no shows, and only checked in on a couple of pigs (for livestock, I prefer the first weekend's poultry and rabbits. Also the mold-free baked goods in the competitive entries).

The most beautiful chicken I've ever seen, at last year's state fair

Still, I love the fair. I am giddy within five minutes of arriving ("Miniature horses! I love the fair!") and exhausted by the time I leave. I miss it when it's over, and I firmly believe you need two days at the fair. Next year, I'll be sure to get at least a full one.  

More photos here. 

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Kentucky, you have ruined me

I am not that well-versed in liquors, but since moving to Kentucky, I've learned about bourbon and have started taking it for granted. I expect a selection of bourbon behind the bar, and when I ask for bourbon on a plane, I don't expect the following: 

Me: Do you have bourbon?

Flight Attendant: Is this bourbon? Shows me Jack Daniel's 

Me: Um... no... 

FA: I have bourbon, hang on. Goes to front of cabin, comes back and shows me Dewar's 

Is this bourbon? 

Me: No, that's Scotch

FA: Is this not bourbon? Shows me Jack Daniels again 

Me: No, but it will do.   

I have been that confused server ("What is 7&7?") -- and would probably still be confused if asked about brandy or Scotch. I just forget that outside of Kentucky, bourbon is not a given. 

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Finally, a Cronut (or Doughssant)

A few months ago, Gabe went to New York and came back talking about croissant-doughnuts, or "cronuts" (or "cornets." Thank you, auto-correct). In July, we spent some time at the beach with our New York friends, and cronuts came up every day. Apparently, New Yorkers now pay others to stand in line to buy their cronuts for them.

In Norfolk, we saw a fauxnut at a Kroger. It was a donut in the shape of a croissant. This is what I imagined the cronut would look like, so I was surprised when we got to Wiltshire Bakery & Cafe at seven this morning and saw these:

I didn't really think deeply about what a cronut would look like. Or, you know, look it up on the internet. 

But yes, after all the cronut build-up, when Eater Louisville reported that Wiltshire had cronuts (or "doughssants," as they're calling them) and would serve them again today, I was happy when Gabe said, "Do you want to wake up at six and walk to cronuts?" And when I say I was happy, I mean I said, "That's ridiculous. But yes." 

I got the coconut and the lemon-glaze with sprinkles. They are as delicious as you would expect fried croissant dough to be. I would eat more. And we walked 2.5 miles, so it's not like any of those cronut calories count, right? 

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#FriFotos - Road Trip (and Hot Chicken, Round 2)

I'm rarely enthusiastic about the from-the-car photos I take on road trips. This one from last weekend's jaunt down to Nashville is no different. I want to share it because in the first seconds I saw this truck, I thought (hoped) it was actually a truck full of coffee. 

Now that we've discovered hot chicken, no trip to Nashville will be complete without it. This time, we visited Hattie B's, near Vanderbilt. Hattie B's is a little fancier than Bolton's, but you still order at a counter and sit at picnic tables. They also have beer.  

Since I survived the "hot" at Bolton's on our last visit, I thought I should see how I would handle the hottest chicken, the Damn Hot. I was nervous, and rightly so. That first bite was deceptive. I even thought Hattie B's might be faking it. When the server came around with a second dish of potato salad, her warning of, "It's a slow build," was too late. I was already there. And I never really crossed over to a place where I wasn't looking for something to eat that would ease the burn. I ate most of our four sides (pimento mac 'n' cheese!) and drank two beers in about 15 minutes. The chicken was delicious, and I ate half of Gabe's even though I said I was done before mine was gone. But when you feel like you've removed a layer of esophageal tissue, it's too hot. No more Damn Hot chicken for me. 

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