by Sam Tackeff | Nov 3, 2013 | Photography, Travel
Here’s a photo essay of sorts – I’ve finally managed to organize and edit my photos from our trip to Mount Washington a few weeks back. Devon and his coworkers were on a random work assignment, and I was happy enough to tag along. It was the last weekend to drive up the Mount Washington Auto Road before it closed for the season, and even though I like to think of myself as an active and outdoorsy person, driving up Mount Washington seemed a lot more appealing than hiking it this time around. (To get to the summit you can hike, drive, or take the cog railway. For some reason, the idea of a train climbing up a mountain is even more terrifying that us driving it.) So what, exactly, does driving up the auto road entail? For about $27, and an additional $8 per extra passenger, you get admission to the auto road, a compact disc audio tour, and the infamous “This Car Climbed Mt. Washington” sticker. The drive to the summit is a twenty to thirty minute loop around the mountain. The road is narrow, there are no guard rails, and if you are nervous, I highly recommend that you don’t read Yelp reviews of the road before summiting. Of course I did, so I’ll share my favorite two here:
“Unless you like scuba diving to see great white sharks or bull fighting or have nerves of steel, trust me this is to be avoided at all costs!! This is a white knuckle ride to put it mildly!!”
“I’m not afraid of heights, but I am afraid of plummeting 7 miles to the earth below.”
Despite the warnings, the drive is actually quite safe. Best explained in the auto road website FAQ: “Be honest, how many people have died riding on the Auto Road? Over 150 years, there have been three fatalities on the Auto Road. In 1880, a stage overturned (in the hands of a drunk driver), and a passenger was killed. In 1984, a vehicle experienced brake failure about a mile up the road and was unable to make it down safely. Most recently, a motorcyclist suffered a fatal crash in 2009.”
So up we drove, through the auburn foliage, up past the tree line to the lunar-like tundra zone, and finally up to the icy cold summit. At the top, we got to say hello to the scientists working in the Mt. Washington Observatory, and say hi to Marty, who, I could have sworn was an animatronic cat, despite assurances from several people that he is in fact, alive.
While the drive up was fine, the drive down was slightly more disconcerting, and I spent much of it trying to avoid looking out of the window or nervously fidgeting.
This is what happens when you neglect the advice to shift into a lower gear and use the turnouts several times on the way down and not ride your brakes. (My assumption – that isn’t actually our car.)
The rest of the weekend was spent lounging around North Conway. I stopped multiple times at my favorite North Conway coffee shop Frontside Grind. I had my regular cortado (very good), and the Fog Lifter (espresso in coffee), and sadly forgot to refill my cold brew growler, which was forgotten not once, but twice in the car. We acquired lobsters at Hannaford (for 5.99/pound, you pick a live lobster and they’ll boil it for you in minutes), and got real fancy with lobster mac & cheese, and enough Trader Joe’s appetizers for eight people.
We watched hours of movies, ranging from great to terrible – starting with Toy Story 2, then Spaced Invaders, then The Ruins, which only served to make me feel terrible for both Jena Malone and Jonathan Tucker. Before heading back to reality, we took a drive up Cathedral Ledge, and reveled in the fall foliage. New Hampshire is a truly special place to be this time of year.
And because we are friends, here’s one last gem from the camera roll – in which I follow through with my resolution to spend more time in front of the camera. Vogue, my dears, vogue.
by Sam Tackeff | Aug 5, 2011 | Ice Cream, Local stores, Restaurants
I had very few reservations about moving back across the country to New England. There is so much here I love passionately, and so much I missed when I was away. My family is here, I have dear friends that I’ve known my entire life. I love walking on the beach that I grew up on, a five minute walk from my childhood home that my parents still live in. I love driving into Boston just to amble through the Common on a sunny day. I love a spontaneous trip to New York to load my car full of smoked fish and bread and coffee from Zabars.
One reservation I had was bringing my partner Devon back to New England with me and the chance of him hating it. He was born in Southern California, and has lived all his life in the Golden State. I worried about the lack of air conditioning, the blizzard season, the drivers in Massachusetts, and the fact that our home basketball team is not to his liking. (Although that won’t really matter given that we don’t appear to have a season shaping up…Grumble.) But, despite all this, he, being a wonderful stand up fellow (or maybe just a little crazy), came with me. And I couldn’t be more ecstatic.
It’s not going to be the easiest transition, but he seems to be doing well so far. And we’ll make sure that we make a trip to L.L. Bean shortly to acquire proper gear for our arctic adventures.
In the past month, Devon has been learning a lot of intriguing (not quite true) facts about New England. Did you know that New Hampshire has the highest per capita rate of vanity plates? Well, everyone has been telling us this, and yet we are actually #2 after Virginia. What is also not true, is that we consume the largest amount of ice cream per capita. That award goes to the hardy citizens of Alaska. (No fewer than 4 people have claimed that fact to him as well.)
This affectionate rumor is not actually surprising when you consider the amount of people in line at any given time of the day at any of the dozen or so home made ice cream shops in my home town. One of my greatest pleasures these past few weeks has been to introduce Devon to some of these local havens, so that he has an objective view of his options.
The best of these, in my opinion, is Annabelle’s. Annabelle’s has been open since 1982, and I’ve been going there pretty much since I was born. (My grandmother first fed me ice cream when I was five and a half months old. Before you scream out about negligence, she was eating a bowl of chocolate ice cream, I tasted it, determined that it was mine, and face-planted.)
The vibe in Annabelle’s is a certain rustic, hippy charm, and you feel like there might be a milking cow out back. You can come in and sit for a while, but most people don’t . You can order from a takeout window, and right outside are benches where you can overlook the water and the tugboats, and everything screams old-town charm.
The ice cream itself is superb. Rich, thick, and high in butterfat. They have a good selection of classic flavors, and some non-traditional ones as well. They make a small fuss out of the fact that they don’t have mint chocolate chip ice cream – instead they have two mint-loving options: Mint Summer’s Night Dream (Mint Chocolate Ice Cream with Chocolate Chunks), and Minty Mint Cookie (Vanilla based Ice Cream with Mint flavoring and Mint Cookies).
I’m a sucker for classic New England flavors: Maple Walnut, Pumpkin Pie, Grape-Nut. Yes, there is an ice cream flavor that is Grape-Nut, like the cereal. My absolute favorite is the Raspberry Chocolate Chip. Real raspberry ice cream, with generous chocolate-y shards. I eat it pretty much every other time I go.
On the past two trips, Devon has had the White Pistachio – pure pistachio ice cream with whole pistachios, and he has sworn allegiance. I think this coast may be growing on him.
Annabelle’s Ice Cream
49 Ceres Street
Portsmouth, NH 03801
(603) 436-3400
