STEP BY STEP

 

Despite my nearly 90 years, I still look good in my navy blue Kiton suit… especially when I complement it with either a pink or pale green open necked shirt by Bugatchi. The cynic might then well add, “yeah, but who doesn’t?”

Alright, I will concede that, but still, I think I am doing okay…especially for a guy whose rolodex (remember those?) contains about 85% dead folks.

I set up this preamble for part two of my Notes regarding the automobile trek to New England and back because of an overriding (no pun intended) reality check, concluding that I am simply too old for this. One month on the road and I am exhausted.

The whole thing was an ill-thought-out mistake. I had just finished my book, along with a year that involved three separate surgeries on the same hernia with three separate surgeons. I needed a holiday. My friend Renee Taylor was previewing a new play in the Berkshires; what better way to celebrate her and to relax than a leisurely drive along the Eastern Seaboard, with spa visits at known-to-me… as well as new-to-me… resorts?

Never mind that I live on an Island paradise with a perfectly fine spa,  as well as a pristine beach, replete with a staff of long-time employees who seem to take pleasure in meeting my every desire. I would eschew all of that for the open road.

It would appear I have learned little since being born in 1937.

What about “bloom where you were planted,” the grass not always being “greener” …. “not seeing the forest for the trees” … the best things in life are not only free, but right under your nose?

The second half of the trip… southward from the Berkshires to Miami would be driven on an inland route rather than the Atlantic Coast traversed on the way north. Pennsylvania, the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia, the Highlands of North Carolina, simply gorgeous country.

The trip was, by most standards, wonderful … but at 29.5 days… simply too long. There was also the matter of the stairs.

The Crossroads Inn of North Carolina was an interesting stop, provided you are into quaint. Built sometime in the early 19^th century, is long hand meaning no elevator, along with stairs that no 21^st century building code would even consider, let alone permit.

Steep, like you cannot believe… and long… with no intermediate landing between floors. When those carpenters in 1820 took their hammers to wood, they were not contemplating an old guy such as myself walking to another floor. The literal bottom of the second floor intercepts the Bannister that would normally help one up and down those stairs in the first place. And “up” is by far the easier part. I opted to pass on dinner and spend the night in my upstairs digs rather than try to navigate any non-essential downward journey on that stairway.

You want to complain about government regulations? Try navigating an over two-hundred-year-old stairway built in the land of the too free. You may change your point of view about such things.

Primland… an Auberge Resort… was next and it is a beauty. A great lodge on 12,000 acres where fly fishing, golf, skeet shooting, archery, horseback riding, tennis, bird watching, great scenery along with a not-too-bad spa, are all available for guests. The last two were my destination points, but the majority of the folks in residence had a more active lifestyle in mind. That, along with classes on how to make Bourbon cocktails and sampling local Moonshine, can fill out a day nicely. And, good news, there is an elevator… unless you want to go to the observatory. Even then, the steps were designed in this century.

Have you been to Blowing Rock, North Carolina? A visit to the Westglow is well worth doing. Ms. Jennifer Hale is the Director of Hotel Operations and a lovely hostess of this historic Manor House built on 11 acres that overlook the very beautiful Grandfather Mountain. The food is top notch… the views sublime… the staircase wide and sweeping with big rails. I presume by the time it was built (1917) for the famed artist and writer Elliot Daingerfield as his summer home, some learning had been accomplished in the area of safer stairs. Either that or old Mr. Daingerfield recognized a thing or two about approaching his 60^th birthday. Whatever, the place was lovely and ultra comfortable. Maybe I should have extended that visit… you think?

Old Edwards Inn is the high point of the Highlands of North Carolina. It has been a favorite of mine for years and was to be the last of the primary destination points of the trip. The three-story brick structure that was first built in the 19^th century, improved and enlarged in the 1930s, is the centerpiece of the town and its spa is well known throughout the state. The food is good, the service first rate, the Dove Bars are free and the only problem is too many people have found out about it.

The Old Edwards Inn has become so successful over the years that management keeps buying more and more real estate and building more rooms. The latest ones are blocks away from the original building as well as from the heart of town. The new rooms are nice (some-to-most would say nicer, but not me). I like the camaraderie of the old building and I love the easy access to the free Dove Bars (oh, yeah, and the town).

The problem in the old building is, of course, those ancient stairways. Not as ancient as those constructed long before any reasonable building code was put into place but plenty steep for these old bones.

I had been through enough. After several miles of the curviest mountain road anyone is likely to encounter this side of the Amalfi Coast, I wended my way home by the Gulf route… saw a bit of Tampa and promised myself that one day soon… when/if I recover from this journey… I will revisit that part of my adopted state, along with St. Petersburg and Sarasota about which I have some curiosity.

Whenever it is that I decide to go… it will be a while from now… it will take a lot less than 29.5 days… and you can take all bets that all the hotels to which I give my business will have at least one elevator.

 

Barney Rosenzweig

THE NEW IN NEW ENGLAND

 My month-long road trip has ended, where it began, on my sub-tropical paradise. I am delighted to be back home again… even though in my absence a major leak was discovered that has caused the demolition of one exterior wall as well as the disassembling of my entire office (built-in desk, monitor, printer, scanner, files, keyboard, and bookshelves). It has forced me to compose this piece on a laptop, that is… literally… on my lap. The hope is, as I tap away on this mini assemblage of letters and numbers, that it… and I… will find our way toward compatibility. Do not wager a lot of money on that.

My driving trips are normally cross country, and always on even numbered years. None of this applied to this recent expedition. 2025, as you may have noticed, is an odd numbered year. The trip was never going to be from sea to shining sea (i.e., Miami to Los Angeles) but rather from Miami to the Berkshires and back. Somehow this took nearly a week longer than the greater-in-terms of miles-route from the Atlantic to the Pacific. Too long.

This trip began as a Northeast passage, staying closer to the coast of the Atlantic with a watchful eye out for Erin, the first big storm of the season.

Getting out of Florida is always the most boring part of any of these driving adventures as Interstate 95 North or the Florida Turnpike are the only reasonable routes out of the state (there is State Road A1A along the east coast and its sister highway on the Gulf, but once you have done these, and endured the bumper to bumper traffic in one smarmy beach town after another, it invariably comes to mind that even something as mundane as an interstate highway has to be to an improvement.

The first stop was New Smyrna Beach, a tiny Florida beach and intercoastal town that is just about as far north as I can make it in one day of driving from my home base of Fisher Island (particularly when not departing my Island until midday). I only mention it here because of the beautiful bed and breakfast inn where I spent that first night of the trip.

The décor is what captured me… that and the architecture of what proved to be the longest standing structure in the area. The couple that has turned this 19^th century Victorian mansion into a business somehow were able to imagine this period piece as a vision in black and white. The interior walls, the ceilings, the furniture, the artwork…. all black or white or black and white. And it works! I am an old guy, but if I ever decide to acquire another home, I am contacting these kids to do the decor. Victoria 1883 is the name of the place. New Smyrna, Florida, is the town.

I have to add that it didn’t hurt that this beautiful seven-room inn not only provided luxury bedding, robes, slippers, free snacks and free breakfast, but had the cushiest bath towels I encountered on the entire trip (and all for substantially under $300 per night).

I will try not to be a bore and go over the entire trip …. day by day, place by place, but given the happy mood I am in (something to do with no longer living out of small bags configured in the trunk of my BMW) I will give you a few high points.

But first, a word or two about the BMW. Followers of my musings know that for all but the most recent year of the 21^st century, these long-distance drives of mine have been in a Bentley convertible… either the 1998 Azure or the 2007 GTC.

The BMW is a lovely automobile… a very fine car, but… a car is all it is. Admittedly, reliable, comfortable, safe, sturdy, and reasonably powerful, still no bikers give a thumbs up on the back roads of America… and there are no crowds waiting outside the local Waffle House for an explanation as to just what the magnificent thing in the parking lot might be. Eight cylinders are not twelve and there is nothing… nothing…. like the sound and the feel of that Bentley on the road.

Onward: If you have never visited Palmetto Bluff in South Carolina, you have missed something very special… particularly if you get yourself upgraded to one of the properties’ cottages. The Montage Hotel chain now operates the hotel … in the good old days it was the folks from Auberge de Soleil… and it was a lot more special then than it is now.

Today, the property has a large multi-story Montage Hotel building smack in the middle of everything… Nevermind, that won’t matter if you get that cottage upgrade. Truly a delightful and ultra private getaway on 5,000 acres of lush low country.

The majority of that acreage is taken up by the private homes whose owners make up the private club that supports the two golf courses and a small-town square with shops, a chapel, a spa, and restaurants. There is even a word-hulled yacht (Grace) built in 1912, lovingly restored by members of that private club that is available for sunset cruises and private charter.

If you insist on seeing other humans, you should work on wrangling a table at The Canoe Club… owned by the property’s private club and NOT by the Montage… the architecture is amazing, the décor is fascinating to observe; the bar and its tender are welcoming, the food is first rate.

As to food, the best you will probably find in the South is in Gary, North Carolina… just outside of Durham and the Research Triangle. The Umstead is one of a kind and, according to Forbes, one of only eight hotels in the world that has three “Five-Stars” awarded by the magazine… one for the hotel itself, one for the restaurant, and the other for the spa. The rooms are lovely and the Hotel’s overall design is delightful. Did I mention the wonderful staff? Hold on to your Hilton points…. they will do you no good here. The Umstead is one of a kind in more ways than one. Meaning it is not connected to any chain … anywhere.

It seems the wife of the richest man in North Carolina thought that the area should have a fine hotel for those visiting the Research Triangle area (Duke, Chapel Hill and Raleigh) as well as her husband’s headquarters at the SAS institute. Calls to all the top hotel chains in the US got Ann Goodnight nowhere and so she decided to build her own. And what a job she did. A beautiful architectural design and a fine art collection on a beautiful lakefront setting, compliment all those things Forbes acknowledged with its multiple “Star” awards.
In the spirit of staying positive, I am going to jump over the more usual parts of the journey to get to another highlight of the trip, the Mayflower Inn in Washington, Connecticut. Auberge is in charge and the boutique luxury chain does itself proud with this extraordinary 35-acre property. I cannot give enough praise to the staff or the place itself. The rooms are delightful, and beautifully decorated, the spa is heavenly… literally… as I said to one of the staff: if I were doing a film about the afterlife, the spa’s quiet room would be the entrance to heaven itself. Truly beautiful.

The trip’s midway point brought me to Stockbridge, Massachusetts in the Berkshires. A friend’s play was the excuse for the entire venture and the convention of old friends gathered there for the event made for a lot of laughter and camaraderie. The play, Death is No Excuse, is a work in progress by Renee Taylor, one of the few comedy genius writers and performers I have ever met. I am going to hold to my policy of not reviewing works in progress… or in previews… as too many things happen between that early stage of the work and the opening night. But…

I will review the 250-year-old Red Lion Inn which dominates the center of town. As is apparently usual during the height of the summer season, this ancient inn was at full capacity. Bette Davis said it best in the motion picture Beyond The Forest. Years later Elizabeth Taylor paid homage to the line in Who’s Afraid of Virgina Woolf? It perfectly describes this ancient edifice.

Ah… you guessed. The line, of course, is “What a dump.” And a dump is exactly what this dowager is. Summertime in New England is a delight. New York, Massachusetts, Connecticut. All beautiful beyond belief. Make the trip late any summer. The weather through most of September is fabulous. Just stay away from that Inn in Stockbridge. It could ruin even the best of holidays.

I cannot leave the Berkshires without paying homage to one of the best Italian restaurants I have enjoyed in a very long time… Acqua Al 2 in West Stockbridge… just up the highway from the Red Lion Inn. A must visit.

The natural beauty of New England was something of a revelation as it dawned on me that of the more than a dozen of those major automobile trips of mine, only one took me north of Washington DC. It seemed that on those trips that took me northward from Florida, I would get no farther than our nation’s capital before turning left into the setting sun to complete my journey westward.

I have friends who have migrated to New England and who sing its praises, but somehow, I have never really experienced it until now. There is no disparagement even hinted at here for Virginia, Tennessee, the Gulf states, the variety of the vistas provided all around and about the Rocky Mountain range or of New Mexico or the incredible state of Utah… BUT… I have to say it again. New England was a revelation.

Stay tuned for part two …. the return to Miami by way of Pennsylvania, the Virginias, the Blue Ridge Mountains and the North Carolina Highlands.

As indicated… a very long trip.

 

 

Barney Rosenzweig