Good museums always take me back....

Whenever I visit a good museum (for example the Pacific War Museum in Fredericksburg, Texas) it always reminds me of my time in London, where you are practically surrounded by wonderful museums all the time.

Last weekend I had that feeling again, when I got to visit Denver's wonderful Museum of Nature and Science, and their special Pompeii exhibit.

It wasn't my first trip to this great museum. A few years ago we saw a special Titantic exhibit there that still gives me chills when I recall it.

And its regular exhibits are first-rate, too. I'm sure that their Gems & Minerals area must have been under construction when I was there before, because it was new to me. And this type of stuff is usually what I head for first in a science museum.

I was particularly impressed with the quality of the scientific side of these exhibits. Not just a lot of pretty rocks on pedestals; they display a lot of chemical and geological information alongside. Really top-notch!

And, speaking of rocks, I did make a return visit to this "gem" of a room tucked away up on the 3rd floor, accidentally discovered on my first trip to the museum. It's a collection of carved gems, minerals and other natural elements that I find endlessly enchanting.

The artist is Vasily Konovalenko, and I can confidently bet that you've never seen anything like these pieces, unless you've been to the only other exhibit of his work, in Moscow. There's just one example on the right. Check out the museum web page that I've linked to for more, and much better, photos of these unique artworks.

But the main attraction for us on this most recent visit was the Pompeii exhibit. I'd seen one about Pompeiian artifacts a few years ago in a Houston art museum, and wasn't sure if this one would show me anything new. But it did! For one thing, there were a great many more of the poignant body casts, made by filling holes made when the volcano's victims were buried in ash and then decomposed. These casts make the human element of the tragedy so very real:

Another new item was a series of computer-generated videos that give you virtual tours of some of the buildings, showing what they must have looked like in Pompeii's glory days. The climax was a very well-done visualization of the course of the eruption. Wow! Not only was it exciting and scary, but it did a very good job of explaining how the tragic day unfolded, and why so many people logically decided to stay and shelter in the city's buildings rather than fleeing. When it became obvious that's what they should have done, it was too late.

Of course, the tragedy of Pompeii resulted, ironically, in a treasure-trove of Roman artifacts and artworks, better preserved than practically anywhere else. These artifacts made up a large part of the exhibit, and there were many fascinating objects.

Isn't it hard to believe that something as beautiful as this vase survived the conflagration?

And some of the mosaics were vivid reminders of our trip to another Roman city, Bath, in the fall of 2008. The mosaics were some of my favorite items in that museum, too.

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I'll be blogging soon about other activities during my quick trip to Denver in my Hometown Tourist blog.

Two rivers, two races

I know, there's not really much similarity between the little spring-fed San Marcos River in central Texas and the mighty Thames.

But about a week and a half ago the former brought me very pleasant memories of a big event on the latter.


Not quite four years ago I attended the Great River Race in London. My friends and I watched countless boats go by on the last leg of the race, perched as we were on the Jubilee footbridge. What fun it was on that gorgeous afternoon, watching both serious and silly paddlers heading downstream from the starting point 20-some miles away in Richmond.


Then, in 2012, I went to watch my first Texas Water Safari, a much more strenuous and challenging affair, which runs from the springs that begin the San Marcos, downstream past its joining with the Guadalupe, and ending up 260 miles away on the Gulf Coast.


As anyone with a head for math is probably thinking: that's a lot more than an afternoon's entertainment, isn't it? 


Well, yes, it is. We only watched the first day's action, following a couple of our friends' boats and cheering them on at several different checkpoints.

Zoltan at Westerfield crossing

John & Kevin after the Staples Dam portage

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The Safari starts at the springs but the first good place to see a lot of the racers (130+ boats this year) is the Rio Vista Park a bit downstream. The top picture in the post is looking back at the park from a nearby bridge. In addition to giving our friends a send-off, we got to see some of the bigger expeditions' boats in action. The long 6-man boats, which are taken for the advantage they provide on the long flat stretches that come on the second, third and fourth (!) days of the race, have to execute some fancy maneuvers to get through the rapids at the beginning. Like these guys:

Two of the team stay with the boat and shepherd it over the falls while the other four, deemed extra weight at this point, run along the shore and catch up some yards later. These folk are serious!

As you can imagine, especially on a nice day like this, there are lots of spectators at various points along the river. Here are two of my crowd shots:

Westerfield crossing spectators

getting a good seat at Cottonseed Rapids

Spectators need to know, though, that this is a very serious macho race and they can't help any of the racers in any way. If someone loses a paddle in the rapids you can't fish it out and hand it to them, or they'll be disqualified. The only people who can give anything to the racers are their official team captains, and they can only give them water and ice. Everything else—food, medicine, boat repair supplies, everything—has to be in the boat at the beginning.

Did I mention this is a serious race?

Of course, there are racers who take the experience much more lightly than others (although about 100 of the boats did finish, which I find quite astonishing). Some of them, it seems, might mainly be interested in showing off their creativity:

creative boat names like "Blazing Paddles"

creative river fashion (note the pants)

creative paddling style (does he think he's on the Cam?! )
this guy finished with the distinction of being the first stand-up paddler to do so

And there were beautiful boats for the cognoscenti to admire:

Many of the teams were color-coordinated:

And I still can't get over those long boats. I've paddled these rapids and I surely wouldn't want to have to maneuver something like this through them:

Watching this part of the race was a very entertaining way to spend the day. But when we bid our friends adieu in Luling (which is as far downstream as we've ever paddled on the San Marcos) we were pretty glad to be headed home to air-conditioning and beds instead of trying to snatch naps in the boats.

The teams that really go for the win complete the race in 30-40 hours. Which means, of course, that they don't sleep at all so the lack of beds isn't an issue. However, they have to navigate logjams, lengthy portages, and braided channels, often in the dark. Kinda crazy, imho.

Our friends turned in very respectable times, getting to the finish line in Seadrift in the early (one of the them in the very early!) morning hours of Wednesday. You have to finish by 1 p.m. Wednesday to get into the record books.

Like a marathon, finishing is a fine reward. But watching it is much more fun.

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I must mention a sad sidebar on the race. For the first time in its 50-year history, there was a fatality this year. A young man died of an apparent imbalance of electrolytes; he had drunk enough, and perhaps too much, water, without his body absorbing the corresponding required salts. So sad. He sounded like a great guy. You can read about him here.

Echoes of London...

...in Llano, Texas, of all places.

I do think of London often (even though I've seriously neglected this blog of late, I know). But small town Texas courthouse squares might seem pretty far removed from London's bustle and sophistication.

However, they have one thing in common: war memorials.

And this one in Llano in particular made me think of the many I'd seen in London and in the UK as a whole. As doesn't always happen with monuments around here, this one was originally built, apparently, to honor the local dead from World War I. That's the plaque you see on the rock underneath the figure. (Click on the image to enlarge it.) Of course, in the UK, these WWI monuments are the big boys in any collection, given the horrific losses from that conflict.

Then, off to the side (on the right in the photo above) there's an additional plaque for World War II. Which is how a lot of UK memorials are constructed. For instance, the Avebury church memorial I featured here.

One type of memorial they don't have in London, however, is the ubiquitous Confederate memorial. You see these in almost all Texas towns.

(I was able to include the Llano County courthouse tower, a very lovely structure, in this shot)

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We visited beautiful downtown Llano at the end of a canoeing and camping trip that I've been writing about over on Hometown Tourist. Getting to spend some time in their photogenic courthouse square was a bonus treat: we've become something of connoisseurs of county courthouses in Texas, as we get out to little towns often on our paddling trips. This is one of our favorites.

Window dressing

London has some of the most amazing store window displays. Harvey Nicks and Harrod's are world famous for theirs.

But you can find some pretty cool ones in the most unlikely places. Like a little town in the middle of Colorado.

I neglected to make a note of the name of the store where we saw this present-bedecked mannequin, but it's on the main street of Salida, Colorado (pop. 5200+). We were walking around downtown waiting for their Christmas parade.

When I saw this display I couldn't help but be reminded of other strolls down London streets. I'll bet the windows there are pretty dolled up for Christmas by now, too!

Remembering TFL*...sort of

Although I think about London a lot, and often find things that remind me of my magical time there, I rarely have experiences here in Texas that let me recapture a feeling from my "dream season."

However, I've recently found one. It involves a very mundane activity but I'm enjoying it immensely and I'm sure some of that enjoyment derives from the London memories that it stirs. The activity is just...plain...getting to work. Via mass transit.

I've started riding the bus to work (well, at least part-way; our system doesn't offer the breadth of coverage that London's does so I have to drive about five minutes to catch a bus that drops me off a few blocks from the Library. But it's still fun! And it still reminds me of all the great tube and bus and train rides I had in the UK).

You can see where I get on in the morning on the right above. And the much nicer stop where I wait for the eastbound #90 in the afternoon is on the left. (Believe me, the shade has been welcome on our hot summer afternoons!)

Besides the deep-down satisfaction of re-living, at least on some level, one of my daily London routines, my new habit has some other advantages:

• more regular exercise: the walk of essentially 3 blocks each way from the stop to the Library is not to be sneezed at, and I've actually lost a couple of pounds—that seem to be staying off—since I've started riding the bus (I was very slim and fit while in London, in spite of eating very well)
• more reading time: I love getting to read while someone else drives; I thought I might miss the extra NPR-listening time in the car but that hasn't happened (I just listen to more stories online)
• less gas expended: although I drive a Prius, I'm still saving some gas...and those buses would be chugging up and down Woodlawn Avenue whether I was on them or not
• making new friends: I've made the acquaintance of another St. Mary's employee who's a hard-core bus rider and who's been able to answer my questions and provide encouragement...plus diverting conversation on those walks between bus stop and campus

But my enjoyment of the activity can't be analyzed on a strictly scorecard-type basis. I just like to do it. And I know that a good big reason for that can be traced back to my car-less London days.

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*Transport for London...absolutely essential website for getting around London with minimal hassles

Another good war museum

One of my favorite London museums (of which I had many) is the Imperial War Museum.

Or, as I like to call it, the Peace Museum. Since its display of the details of 20th century wars is meticulous, but not laudatory, and the net effect of a visit is reinforced pacifism.

Last weekend we visited a nearby museum with a smaller focus—the National Museum of the Pacific War. But within its more limited scope, it's just as meticulous, just as well-designed and thought-out, just as respectful, and just as pacifism-reinforcing.

The quaint hill country town and shopping destination of Fredericksburg isn't the first place you might guess for the location of this fine museum. But it was the boyhood home of Admiral Chester Nimitz, who commanded the U.S. Pacific Fleet in World War II. And the current museum grew out of an earlier, smaller, enterprise that just showcased his life.

So this charming little town finds itself home to this world-class museum.

We had other activities planned for the gorgeous spring day in this area (read about them over at Hometown Tourist) and so were totally unprepared for how long we discovered we wanted to spend at the Museum. Its footprint is small, but it's so cleverly laid-out that its density means you'd need many, many hours to do its displays justice.

The main attractions of the place are these multitudinous displays, many interactive, its wonderful detailed maps, and its poignant artifacts. It was hard to take good pictures in the dim light of the galleries, but I had to snap this display, celebrating the Flying Tigers that my father-in-law served with:

But the museum also makes room for bigger exhibits, like this seaplane:


The grounds of the museum, connecting the older Nimitz family hotel (see picture at the bottom of the post) with the new expansion containing the main displays, is a lovely park-like area. The picture of Hal and Carey above, under one of its handsome trellises, and the memorial plaques shown below form parts of this peaceful area:

Only rarely since I've left London have I found a museum that I wanted to rank with any that I visited there. But here, in little Fredericksburg, I think I found one.

I was so taken with its innards, in fact, that I neglected to take a photo of the impressive Victorian Nimitz Hotel part of the complex. But fortunately Wikipedia Commons had one I could borrow:

I'm already planning a return trip!

Not quite the Thames, but...

... a walk along the side of Austin's Town Lake a few days ago did bring back some memories.

The lake is a reservoir on the Colorado River that flows through town. Believe me, no Texas rivers are this wide in their natural state!

The photo above is of the Lamar Street bridge, taken from the brand-new pedestrian bridge that was the object of our walk. It's a very nice, wide, structure, that was being used by lots of Austinites on the pleasant, sunny day. And it doesn't "wobble" a bit!

Here's a look down its solid structure, facing north:


And here are some more photos taken from it:

looking over the elegant spiral ramp leading from the riverside to the bridge, you get a great view of downtown Austin from the west...

I doubt you'd ever see graffiti, or even street art, like this on a Thames bridge, but, folks are a little wacky in Austin (click on the image to see it large enough to read)...

There's a series of bridges across the lake that I, for some reason, neglected to photograph in a row from the pedestrian crossing. But on the right is the underside of one of the most famous: the Congress Avenue "bat" bridge. We saw the bats emerge from here on a trip many years ago, and it's an amazing experience.

Unfortunately, it was the wrong time of day (and the wrong season) for us to see them on this outing. But we think we heard some peeping as we walked under the bridge...

I expect that you wouldn't be able to see anything like the blooming tree (a pear, perhaps?) on the left anywhere near the Thames right now.

But even given all the differences between this jaunt and the many I took along the Thames while I was in London, it did bring back pleasant memories.

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To read about the main reason for my trip to Austin, check my Hometown Tourist blog.