A visit to Fort Ticondaroga

It was a misty morning last weekend, with a Fall crispness in the air, when we set off to the ferry at Charlotte to cross over into New York State.

The sweet village of Essex, on the other side of Lake Champlain, was nestled into the fall foliage, under the misty Adirondack mountains .

We drove through sleepy towns seemingly inhabited solely by corn dollies and banks of trees in full fall colour.

We stopped to buy a beautiful piece of stained glass, and screeched to a halt at the first signs of life we'd seen: a vintage car rally. Only Bruce was keen to stop and enter Tim-the-Toolman-Taylor Territory, but we were so glad we did. Photos can't really convey the fun of this, can't capture the 50s music, the smell of hot dogs, the muted conversation of the car owners, the sense of a rural community gathering on a cool Saturday morning.

Lizzy finds her perfect car!

Bruce plans his next vehicle

Our destination was Fort Ticondaroga at the southern end of Lake Champlain, on the borders of New York and Vermont. In some ways, the history of Vermont is encapsulated in the dramas enacted at this significant landmark.

The fort was originally built by the french in the mid 1700s, to stop the British from gaining military access to the lake. It was captured by the British  in the 1759 Battle of Ticonderoga, and in 1775, during a night raid, it was taken for the patriots by Ethan Allen and the Green Mountain Boys (a legendary moment in Vermont history). Legend also tells of the canon from the fort being conveyed through the snow - a herculean task in the days when travel was only possible on horseback-  to a battle in Boston.

The fort - ruined by the British and locals when it became no longer strategically important - has been restored by its private owners and now operates as a trust, bringing the history of the period back to life.

Visiting the city

Part of the Fulbright scholarship involves visiting Boston for two one-week periods, one week in November to visit Northeastern University, and one week to visit MIT, to collect data, talk to the people in the WAC programme, and give a presentation. So, on Sunday I left our cottage by the lake and ventured out to the city.

I must admit it felt pretty daunting at first. I learnt something important: it is not necessary, or wise, to take a large suitcase for a one week trip when you have to lug it around on the unfathomable underground system.

I'm staying in a cosy b&b in Brookline. It's a great place. I get to have breakfast each morning with friendly and interesting people - for the last two mornings, a couple from Maine searching for the perfect cello, and today another couple from Los Angeles who are visiting a grand daughter in college - and my kind and helpful host, Meg. The houses in the neighbourhood are huge, gracious mansions.

Each morning I set off to the T (as the underground system is called here) and catch a train and a bus to MIT.

I spend my days interviewing mathematicians, sitting in on classes, and talking to the folk in the writing programme. There are 36 lecturers in the writing programme - 36!! - most of them focused on supporting the maths and science classes. As someone who is used to being a lone voice crying in the wilderness, this is pretty awesome! Given the amount of experience with science writing here, and the sophistication of the programme, I felt quite apprehensive about giving a presentation on my research - but it went well, I think. It certainly seems to have stimulated a lot of discussion - which is a good thing, right? And it's been very useful to chat about the programme and find that places as prestigious as MIT have the same battles over writing as we do at home.

These are the two wonderful women who have made this trip worthwhile in a myriad of ways: Suzanne Lane (director of the WAC programme) and Susan Ruff (lecturer in math communication)

 I've enjoyed sitting in on the communication-rich math classes (even though they appear to be speaking another language - well, I suppose they are). The students are very engaged - whenever I walk in before class starts, the students are generally standing at the blackboard, writing equations and engaged in earnest discussion.  One day, though, I sat by accident in an ordinary math class. It was fascinating to watch the teacher. He walked in, didn't look at the class, and just started writing on the board and talking softly  - seemingly to himself. Whereupon the class stopped writing on another blackboard, and sat down quietly, and began writing. There was no interaction at all, and the teacher didn't once look at the class throughout the entire period.

But the maths faculty I have been interviewing are fascinating to talk to and full of ideas about writing. I am learning so much!

While I'm not thinking about and talking about maths, I've been exploring the campus. The most entertaining thing I've found was the bookshop. I'd never thought before what a bookshop for a population of mathematicians, scientists and engineers would look like. Now I know.

I really wanted to buy this tshirt but can't think of anyone who would enjoy it!

Lots of light reading for mathematicians

books of maths jokes

Tons of cool, geeky tshirts

I thought the architecture of Brookline was impressive. But it was nothing compared with MIT.

This is my favourite building (where I each lunch each day) built by Frank Gehry

this is the side angle

the rows of trees give the impression of cloisters

Today I walked across the bridge over the Charles river, to see the building that appears to be a replica of the tower of London!

I'm so busy with work, I've had little chance to explore Boston - and I would love to. There's so much history here, it seems a shame to be missing it. But perhaps, on my next trip in November, I'll have a chance to get out and see more of the place which was so significant in the history of America's journey to independence.

Fall 1: An alien landing

I think if an alien (as in space alien, not illegal alien), with no knowledge of the seasons, had landed in Vermont in mid-August and had liked it so much that they'd stayed around until October, they'd be unlikely to think that a frozen, dormant season was on its way. Instead, looking at the colours in the hills and the decorations on every deck and porch, they'd be more likely to think some great event was imminent, and that the whole earth was preparing for celebration.

I once read that the Fall colour in Vermont was so vivid that it made you feel as if there was something wrong with your retinas. We're not at full fall colour yet, but I'm getting a sense that this statement was no exaggeration. Used, as I am, to looking up into hills that are perennial shades of green (since the New Zealand bush is evergreen - which has its own beauty), my impulse here is to rub my knuckles in my eyes, to see if, when I open them again, the remarkable colour has somehow dimmed. What I hadn't anticipated was the range and randomness of colour: I'd expected banks of red or gold. But on every hillside, in every field and forest, the colours are intermingled, red, orange, gold, yellow and green, as if an artist has bleached out the rich summer greens and randomly daubed on autumn colour in all its glorious hues. It looks as if nature is erupting with joy, not preparing to sleep.

In the towns and villages, the shops are decorated as if a special visitor was expected:

 

Lizzy and Bruce blend in:

While Grandma and Grandad enjoy the spectacle:

Around the neighbourhood, figures are appearing:

We've wanted to get into the spirit ( but with a kiwi flavour):

Like our hypothetical alien, we find it hard to imagine that some time soon all this colour and warmth will be gone, and the land covered in cold, hard white. But in the meantime, we're joining in the fall celebrations - and wondering how, in New Zealand, we might celebrate the changing seasons too.

The pumpkin chuck

  

 

What do you do after church in Vermont on a sunny Fall Sunday afternoon ? I had planned a nice sedate outing to the Shelburne orchards to pick apples, but  Bruce had other plans: we were visiting the  pumpkin chuck in Stowe, of course.


The pumpkin chuckers were a wide range of individuals who had clearly spent their whole summer vacation, if not the entire year, in their sheds, perfecting their catapults. There were the physics nerds:

There were dedicated families, and scouting troops:

There were engineers and retirees:

I really wanted to get a photo of the pumpkins smashing into smithereens as they hit the ground, but I'm not sufficiently skilled with a camera for that, so instead, I enjoyed myself, taking photos of the people working on their machines:

Afterwards, we headed back into Stowe to show Grandma and Grandad this delightful little town. The girls grabbed the opportunity to get back on the Alpine Slide, though nothing was getting Grandma on there!

 The good people of Stowe must have known the Emersons were coming to town....they changed some of the flags!

Quick! The Emersons are coming! Roll out the union jacks!

Grandma makes a new friend

And we visit the famous covered bridge at Stowe, called Emily's bridge.

(I didn't tell Em the bridge is supposed to be haunted....)

Then home in the dusk to watch the geese flying south, and the sun setting over the Adirondack mountains. .

ps for more about the pumpkin chuck, see http://vtpumpkinchuckin.blogspot.com/