Scene on the Road

Week 3's road trip, driving south on Delaware Hwy 9 from Wilmington to Dover, started with me reading that New Jersey is home to nation's worst overall road system. The news was from a report, by the Reason Foundation, a nonprofit think tank in California, and it put NJ in last place in its annual highway performance report for the eighth straight year. Who knew? Maybe we just get accustomed to traffic and congestion and road repairs. Route 206 in NJ, last week anyway, was in great condition. I'll see how the mostly two lane highway 9 stands up this week (Delaware ranked 40th out of the 50 states, Pennsylvania was 36th) .

At the northern end of 9, on the edge of Wilmington's "Little Italy" neighborhood, I find city Parks and Recreation Dept. worker Juan Santiago grooming the well-kept John Hickman Field. We get to talking baseball. Asked to name his favorite major league player, "Sammy Sosa," comes out of his mouth immediately, before he quickly adds, almost apologetically, "of course, Roberto Clemente." About Sosa, he continues, "First thing, he's Spanish. And he's got a good swing." Sosa hit his 600th home run last week and could be the only Texas Ranger in next month's All Star Game.

South of the Chesapeake and Delaware Canal, the 500 foot cooling tower at the Hope Creek Nuclear Power Plant (which shares an island with the Salem plant) dominates the water landscape. I can see it across the Delaware Bay in NJ as I pull into the deserted parking lot at Augustine Beach, just as Melissa Todd and her kids are shaking off the sand. She tells me she asked her kids, Shawn Todd, 12, and Jacky Matics, 8, to make a choice between the beach and going out to buy a pool. They chose the beach, which in the late 19th century was a favorite retreat for Philadelphia day trippers like me (Melissa's from nearby St. Georges). Big city pleasure-seekers, according to the state's Coastal Heritage Greenway Auto Tour driving guide, would cruise down the Delaware River aboard the steamboat Thomas Clyde, "crowding the pier and amusement buildings which have long since gone the way of steamboats themselves."

Continuing south on Delaware Route 9 from Wilmington to Dover the two-lane blacktop winds through marsh meadows and wildlife refuges. I pass a half dozen tiny parking "lots" designated for numbered hunting stands (they're assigned by an on-site lottery during the season). On the bridges over the tidal rivers and runs flowing into Delaware Bay are dozens of snagged fishing lines and tackle hanging from power lines.

But at midday, on a weekday, with temperatures in the low 90's, there isn't anyone out fishing. Until just south of Port Penn I find Gabe Santana, Onesimo Godinez, and Marcos Tiaseca along St. Augustine Road.

They are all from Newark, co-workers at the steel-mill in Claymont, and with no work this week, decided to fish. "Sometimes we just grill right here, says Santana, "It's just a way to relax, hang out together." He's casting a net for bait.

When they first arrived earlier in the morning, the minnows were jumping, so they got back in the car and drove to buy a net. By the time they returned, Godinez says, the tide switched. It's quiet while I'm
there. I hear stories of previous catches, stripers and even huge catfish. "A big old ugly face," says Santana. As proof they're not just telling fish stories, Godinez produces a photo in his cell phone from last October. That's him holding two big stripers - striped bass - in a photo he then sends to MY cell phone. That's also Godinez holding the bait, and in the photo below, not ready to give up yet, up to his knees, way out toward the cooling tower.

In downtown Wilmington, as my third weekly road trip continues south on Delaware Route 9 toward Dover, I see scaffolding and a row of painted American flags. Since I'm still asking for your flag photos, it gives me an excuse to shoot some of my own.

Artist Max Mason of Wynnewood is painting a "flag-centered tribute to the fallen firefighters of September 11," on the side of Fire Station #1 at West & 2nd Streets, within sight of the Amtrak station. When complete, it will show a procession of firefighters through time. Included will be historic Wilmington fire-stations and apparatus through the years. The mural's most prominent building, "Liberty S.F.E." is no longer around, and we both ponder the initials, coming up with many guesses, all of them wrong. It is the international airport code for San Fernando, in the Philippines, but on this building I learn later, S.F.E. stands for "Steam Fire Engine."

The mural is a community project as well, and we both look up as, "Hi Max," is shouted from a passing car. "Save the face for me," the driver yells. "That's Patrika," Mason tells me. "She lost a friend in 911," and wants to paint him as one of the firefighters. All their helmets will include "343" for the number of Fire Department of New York firefighters who died on September 11, 2001.

And here's a final reminder that time is running out send me YOUR American flags. Email a favorite roadside flag photo as a jpeg attachment to Roadtrip@phillynews.com. I will be posting them on Wednesday.

Wildlife sees me coming...and it goes...

Driving on Delaware highway 9, south of the C & D Canal - where the Delaware River turns into Delaware Bay - I find myself face to face with that most notorious coastal salt marsh resident - Tabanus nigrovittatus - the greenhead fly. I AM looking to photograph some wildlife in this teeming ecosystem, but pest close-ups aren't what I had in mind.

Other than roadkill, animal photography is difficult on road trips. Just as I can't spend the whole day in one place hoping the light will change, sitting in a blind waiting for wildlife doesn't work. I always count the encounters - like a rainbow suddenly appearing with nothing in front of it worth photographing - as an experience I can savor, even if I can't share it photographically. Already this day I've seen a fox, a turtle, a small deer, turtle, and lots of birds.

Getting back to the greenheads though, It's the birds - and some roadkill actually - that bring me to their doorstep. I spot a bunch of turkey vultures feasting on the side of the road. By the time I pull over, grab my 300mm lens, roll down and stick my head out the window - all but one of the big birds has already flown off. I manage to get off one frame as the straggler takes flight. I'm not as quick as I used to be. But the greenheads are. With my window open less than a minute, one of them has already found me and is inside my car. Which brings up another Rule of the Road: When life hands you lemons, take pictures that make it look like lemonade. So I missed the huge birds. I can take aim at a smaller target. Almost a half hour later, still parked on the side of the marsh, still inside my car, I achieve success with some macro-entomology photography.

Heading south, Delaware 9 ends near Dover Air Force Base. I learn they offer tours, but only on a limited basis. "Priority scheduling" is given to "youth groups serving high-school-age students with a recruitment potential." I find it a lot easier to visit the Air Mobility Command Museum, right off Route 9 in a restored World War II hangar that was once a Rocket Test Center. Now it houses a collection of historic military airlift and tanker aircraft. It's connected to the base so I am more interested in watching through the fence as huge cargo jets are taking off and landing on the airfield.

North of Dover is the small town of Leipsic, which is a lot quieter now than it must have been in 1814, when a booming muskrat fur market prompted residents to change the name of their town, naming it after Leipzig, Germany, a big fur-shipping port. Driving down a dead end I find Alan Pleasanton taking advantage of a slow crabbing season to replace the white oak planks on his dock with pressure treated pine. His boat (in the water behind him) is the "San," short for Sandra, named after his wife of 35 years. "I tell her every morning she's the luckiest woman in Leipsic." The painting at right is his dad's boat, the "Miss Ruth," named for HIS wife - Pleasanton's mother. It's full of oysters, he points out, back in the 1970's. Not able to count on a catch that size anymore, he opened a carryout seafood restaurant a few years ago so his daughters could make a living. But this summer, for the first time ever, this Delaware waterman has had to buy his crabs from Louisiana. Pleasanton's Seafood, is on Route 13 in Dover. He says it always gets the "Best Crabs" awards from magazines.

Earlier, near Odessa, another town named for a port in the old country - in this case grain shipping in Russia - I find someone actually catching crabs. Mike Gawronski of New Castle and his three kids and fiance are dropping nets baited with chicken drumsticks into the water off what he calls "the old wooden bridge" over Silver Run. It's not wood anymore, but it was when he fished and crabbed there as a kid. Gawronski thinks I'm a County Fish and Wildlife Agent when I walk up - just as he's showing a crab to his nine year old daughter Elizabeth. The minimum size for hard shell crabs is five inches. This one is six and a half, so he wasn't worried even if I were an agent.