Author Archives: Denny

My Gear – Chapter 22
Olympus OM-D E-M10 Mark III

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This is a PIP: a Pandemic Inspired Purchase. It has pre-pandemic roots, but it was the lack of travel and its associated reasons to take pictures that triggered the purchase of another device for taking them. I know that’s not very logical but I think quite a bit of what we did, and continue to do, during the COVID-19 pandemic is like that — especially what we purchase. I’ll tell about the purchase before I say much about the camera.

There are two sorts of those pre-pandemic roots I mentioned. One is my experience with Olympus in the days before the digital revolution. I was extremely satisfied with the two OM-1s I owned. The wonderfully small size was one reason; reliability was another. A third reason, and one that I never missed an opportunity to mention, was their lack of dependence on battery power. Yes, a battery was required for the built-in meter, but everything else, including focus and shutter, was manual and would function just fine with a dead battery. I guess that’s the same sort of thinking that had me using only cameras with standard AA or AAA batteries for so long after I left 35mm film behind.

The second root can be traced to my curiosity about the new breed of “mirrorless” cameras even though I dislike the name for the same reason I dislike the label “unleaded gas”. The idea of feeding an electronic viewfinder with the same information going to the image recording sensor makes sense but my experience with the concept had not been encouraging. I’d owned a couple of what used to be called “bridge” cameras because (I think) they bridged the gap between compact cameras and DSLRs. They were practical and yielded satisfactory images, but the sluggishness and low resolution of the eye-level viewfinders left me unimpressed. Curiously, I didn’t whine about it in any of the bridge camera My Gear posts (DMC-FZ5, DMC-FZ8, DMC-FZ70). I did mention the sluggishness of the DMC-ZS40 despite it being much improved from the older cameras. By then I’d gotten used to a real SLR again. I now got to wondering just how good were the EVFs in these even newer offerings?

With that background, two things converged in the stay-at-home days of 2020 to make the purchase happen. One was my constantly walking past two containers of coins in my bedroom. For a little more than twenty years, they had frequently, though not regularly, received handfuls of pocket change. The largest, a jug I’d started on after a snack can had become full, was too heavy to move, and I asked myself just what the purpose was. When I’d started the hoards, the possibility of one day dumping them out for gas or groceries was real. That really was no longer the case, and, unable to explain to myself why they were there, I decided to empty them. I began taking the coins to a nearby counting machine where I had the option of getting 93% of their value in cash or 100% of their value in Amazon credit. I went for all the value all the time. Then, just as my Amazon credit balance was reaching an all-time high, Olympus announced a new E-M10IV and folks started discounting E-M10IIIs.

I am surprised to see that Olympus still offers the OM-D E-M10 Mark IIIs (not sure what the ‘s’ means) with a 14-40mm lens for $600. The E-M10 Mark IV is available with the same lens for $700. In September 2020, I bought the pictured kit, which includes a 40-150mm lens that Olympus currently offers for $200, for $598 in what was once pocket change. The included case and SD card were icing.

I was quite impressed when the kit arrived. Although I didn’t list it as a “root”, I think I was just about as curious about the Micro Four Thirds form factor as I was about “mirrorless” viewfinders. The camera’s size reminded me of those distant OM-1 days. Other things about the E-M10 also reminded me of the OM-1 including the general feel and the perceived quality. Photo quality was also good with a sensor of approximately 16 megapixels. With the pancake style 14-40 lens mounted, the camera fits into many pockets and another pocket might hold the 40-150.

So, with all those good things going for it, why has it taken me more than a year to finish this post? The short answer is “lack of use” and the reason for that lack of use is almost the camera’s only negative and it is actually just a personal problem. Even with the tiny size of my cast of cameras, it wasn’t easy finding a role for the E-M10 to play.

The Olympus shares work with a Nikon D5100 and a Panasonic DMC-ZS40. Note that none of these cameras is at all high-end. All three are more or less entry-level for their type. When size is no object, the Nikon wins. It’s hardly the best camera in THE world but it is the best camera in MY world. When size is very much an object, the Panasonic wins. It’s not only the smallest of the three but with a 30X (24–720 mm equivalent) zoom, it is the most versatile. Of course, when the word versatile enters the conversation, my Pixel 4a phone demands attention. It’s almost always at hand and I must reluctantly admit that it does a mighty fine job of taking pretty good pictures in pretty bad situations.

I did find a role for the Olympus during my most recent road trips, but before I reveal what that is I’m going to get in a couple of digs. One is the major flare seen with backlit subjects. This is something it shares with the Panasonic and I theorized it was due to their smallish sensor size. I haven’t totally thrown that possibility out but people more knowledgeable than me have suggested it might be lens quality. The actual problem at the heart of my second dig was operator error but the camera encouraged it. At a point when I really intended to seriously put the camera to use, I found the camera’s field of view so narrow that I simply scrapped my plans and used the Nikon in situations I had thought to use the Olympus. I blamed this on the Micro Four Thirds system. I eventually figured out that the default setting of the rather prominent Fn2 button is to activate 2X digital zoom and that I had apparently pressed it at some point. It was a misunderstanding brought on by unfamiliarity with the camera (which I’m still drenched in) but it was irritating nonetheless.

That role I found for the Olympus? Car seat companion. I like to take road pictures; always one-handed and often, though not always, through a dirty windshield. Doing this with the Nikon or Pixel is too awkward to even think about except on an empty highway or at a dead stop. The Panasonic is actually pretty good at it — once it’s fired up. But firing it up, even when it is on and just sleeping, is a sluggish affair. When sleeping, the Olympus wakes up rather quickly with a touch of the shutter button. It is a bit heavier than the Panasonic but is nearly the same size with a rear screen that is at least the Panasonic’s equal. Even with my digital zoom interfering faux pas, it was good at this and it became even better once I rectified my goof.

As shown by that digital zoom thing, I’ve made little effort to understand what is obviously a very capable and somewhat complex camera. Heck, there might even be a setting that would vanquish that backlit flare. The Nikon D5100 has been in fairly heavy use for over eight years and I know I still don’t understand half of its capabilities. I don’t expect to master the Olympus E-M10 anytime soon but I do expect to take some OK pictures with it. All in all, I’m pretty happy with my PIP.

My Gear – Chapter 21 — Garmin zūmo 396LMTS

Another Covered County Covered

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When I took in Preble County Covered Bridges a couple of weeks ago, there was actually another Ohio county in the running for the “honor”. Fairfield County rivals Ashtabula County for the number of covered bridges and is much closer. Of course, Preble County is closer still and I decided to save Fairfield for a day when there was a chance that the trees would be more colorful. Friday was that day but, even though there were some mighty colorful trees here and there, I never did find that picturesque little bridge framed with orange and gold that I envisioned.

Unlike the rather spontaneous Preble County jaunt, I actually did some advance planning for this outing. I started at the Charles Holliday Bridge (#1) on the Millersport Lions Club Sweet Corn Festival grounds. This happens to be bridge #1 in the Fairfield County Covered Bridge Trail Guide but I did not visit the bridges in the sequence they are numbered in the guide. I started with the bridge farthest from my home then hit the rest in a very crude horseshoe pattern. The numbers following each bridge name are from the guide, however.

My second stop was at the R.F. Baker Bridge (#12) behind the Fairfield Union School. It’s not visible from the parking lot but directions from a friendly student got me there. This is the closest thing I found to that bridge framed by autumn colors in my mind’s eye. You have probably figured out that this is the bridge in the opening photograph and you may have also figured out that it is my favorite.

The John Raab Bridge (#8) is on private property and some distance from the road. I think it was possible that I could have gotten permission from the owner for a closer look but I just settled for a shot from the road with a longer lens mounted. That lens was still on the camera when I started to pull away and spotted a fox scurrying across the open field.

I made my Preble County bridge post a member of the My Cabbodles series but not this one. The reason is that two of Fairfield County’s listed bridges are inaccessible inside a park that is temporarily closed. I believe the address I had matches that of the pictured house although I saw nothing that indicated a park. Nonetheless, I think Mae Hummel Bridge (#9) and Shade Bridge (#14) are around here somewhere.

Only four of Fairfield County’s seventeen covered bridges remain at their original locations and three of them are pictured here. At first glance, I thought all three might have had the same builder but that’s not so. The Johnston Bridge (#7) was built by Augustus Borneman while the Mink Hollow Bridge (#11) was built by Jacob Brandt. No builder is identified for the Hanaway Bridge (#3).

Both of these bridges have been moved, but they still cross water and they are still in use although traffic is now pedestrian-only. The George Hutchins Bridge (#2) serves foot traffic in Alley Park while the McCleery Bridge (#10) helps folk cross Fetters Run on the Lancaster Bike Path.

The John Bright #2 Bridge (#6) has also been moved, still crosses water, and serves pedestrians. Like the McCleery Bridge, it is on Fetters Run and the Lancaster Bike Path. Its description states that it is the “gateway to Lancaster Festival concerts at Ohio University”. I’m guessing those concerts take place in the large open field beyond the bridge.

Rock Mill Bridge (#13) is the fourth covered bridge in Fairfield County surviving in its original location. The mill after which it is named also survives right next to it. The Fairfield County Covered Bridge Trail Guide claims that “At one time, every U.S. Embassy in the world displayed a photo of Rock Mill Bridge.” I haven’t yet found anything online to explain or confirm that so I’ve sent a query to the Fairfield County Ohio Visitors and Convention Bureau and will update this with any information I receive.

Here’s a bridge that has been relocated to a spot that once had water but no longer does. The Hartman #2 Bridge (#4) now sits astride what was once the Ohio & Erie Canal between Lock 11 South and Lock 12 South. The stone walls of Lock 12 South can be seen beyond the bridge in the third picture.

The Shryer Bridge (#15) is on private property with no obvious place to pull over so I really did grab a driveby shot of it. Inside Sycamore Creek Park, the relocated Zeller-Smith (#17) serves as the entrance to an arboretum. The Stemen House Bridge (#16) was relocated and shortened from 72 to 36 feet in length. Damaged and decayed parts were discarded during the move but the half that was saved was so good that now stands as the only public covered bridge in the county open to vehicles.

I had to add the word “public” to the previous sentence since this privately owned bridge is open to vehicles driven by the owner or friends. The Hizey Bridge (#5) once crossed Poplar Creek but has been moved to form part of an impressive private driveway.

If that park is ever opened and those two other bridges become accessible, I suppose I might go see them. Then I can republish these pictures as a caboodle. But the truth is that I was a little disappointed in the covered bridges of Fairfield County and it had little to do with the two hidden bridges or not finding the perfect wall of orange and gold leaves. It had to do with there being only two drivable bridges (one if you’re me) in the lot and so many that weren’t actually bridges at all anymore. By that, I mean those sitting in fields that don’t cross over anything that needs crossing. By contrast, six of the eight Preble County bridges were drivable and all nine of the Ashtabula County bridges I visited in 2019 were drivable. There are ten other covered bridges in Ashtabula County that I have not visited and about which I’ll make no claims.

On the other hand, even those that were sitting in someone’s yard, crossing nothing and accessible by no one, had escaped destruction. I’m reminded of something Tod Swormstedt of the American Sign Museum often says. According to Tod, the best way to preserve a sign is in its original setting doing what it was designed to do. Preserving them in museums and private collections isn’t nearly as good but is better than the scrap heap. I guess that applies to bridges, too. I prefer my historic bridges in the wild carrying vehicles over some body of water just like they were designed to do. Parks and private settings aren’t nearly as good — but they’re better than the scrap heap.

Book Review
Vinyl Village
Jim Grey

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Jim Grey blogs, collects film cameras, uses those cameras, develops the film himself, walks, bikes, and observes. Put them together and what have you got? This book.

It’s a photo essay which is is something Grey has produced twice before; first in 2017’s Exceptional Ordinary then in 2018’s Textures of Ireland. There are technical differences between this and the earlier offerings that I’ll get to in a bit but I’ll first mention what seems to be the biggest departure. In the other two books, the photos were themselves the stars and their subjects of secondary importance. That’s not to say that it didn’t matter what appeared in the photographs but that the subject of the essay was not the subject of any of the pictures. An easy to describe aspect of that is the fact that each photo in the earlier books could stand alone. With Vinyl Village, they stand as a group. The subject of the pictures IS the subject of the essay.

That’s almost certainly what Grey means when he says, “I’ve never tried to tell a story with photographs before, not on this scale.” A photo essay is defined as “a group of photographs arranged to explore a theme or tell a story”. All three of Grey’s published photo essays explore a theme; only this one tells a story.

It is a story about the neighborhood in which he lives, and where he interspersed COVID-triggered working-at-home with some calorie-burning walking-near-home. We are introduced to the neighborhood as a collection of modestly priced homes in an area of pricier residences. A big attraction is access to very good schools at somewhat bargain prices. Although the location makes them bargains, they are hardly shabby and actually look quite attractive — from the front.

Construction is wood frame with vinyl siding and brick accents. Those accents, however, are almost entirely on the front of the houses. The other three sides are the focus of the story. Part of Grey’s story is about these sides being exposed by the curving streets, numerous retention ponds, and open spaces created by electric and gas lines.

The rest of the story is about those exposed surfaces and areas being a long way from handsome. The story’s name comes from the large expanses of vinyl siding exposed by those curves and ponds. Windows are few and from the outside often appear to be placed rather randomly and often awkwardly. Many side walls are unbroken by any windows at all.

There are few words but lots of pictures. The pictures are black and white and large. The most common arrangement is two 4×6 inch photos to a page. Where words do appear, they typically share a page with one of those 4×6 photos. Occasionally a photo gets a page all to itself which lets it grow to approximately 5 1/2 by 8 1/4 inches. Grey has changed publishing platforms (from Blurb to Amazon) for this project which results in some physical differences from the previous essays. The pages are slightly smaller (8×10 vs 8.5×11) and the paper used is uncoated rather than semi-gloss. Photo quality does suffer but again it is the subject of the picture that is important. The pictures are here to document the subject and illustrate Grey’s story, not to be admired in and of themselves. It’s an assignment they handle quite well.

Jim handles his own assignment, that of telling a story with pictures, quite well also. Beauty may be only skin deep and curb appeal only as thick as a brick but that can be enough if a great personality or a highly rated school is involved.

Vinyl Village, Jim Grey, Midnight Star Press (October 16, 2021), 8 x 10 inches, 64 pages, ISBN 979-8498035475
Available through Amazon.

More Smooth As Glass

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About a month ago, a visit to Jack Pine’s Glass Pumpkin Festival yielded a blog post in which I lamented losing an SD card containing “phenomenal photos”. That card has reappeared and, even though my claims of phenomenality will suffer for it, I’m super happy to share some of its contents. For those who missed it or want to refresh their memories, the original post is here.

In my lament, I mentioned ice cream and music, and here is proof of both. The ice cream was quite good. Perhaps because it wasn’t overly pumpkiny. So was the music, but, sadly, I don’t know the name of the fellow entertaining us. If I heard it at the festival, I’ve forgotten, and, while the online schedule is still accessible, it shows a gap between 2:00 and 4:30. The picture was taken about 3:25.

Numerous artists were offering items for sale at the festival and not everything was made of glass and resembled a pumpkin. There were also some vendors selling food at the festival but none that made me want to take a picture.

But, yeah, glass items dominate the festival. It is, after all, hosted by a glass studio. At first glance, things that resemble pumpkins might also seem to dominate the festival, but I’m not so sure. Outside of the Jack Pine Pumpkin Patch, there sure are lots of non-pumpkin pieces.

Several artists were at work inside the studio making glass pumpkins. They would frequently hold out their work as it progressed and explain what they were doing. These non-stop demonstrations alone were easily worth the drive and the price of admission, and the items produced really are phenomenal even if these pictures aren’t.    

Following Morgan

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Once upon a time, a hostile military force passed less than four miles from where I live. I wasn’t here at the time. I wasn’t anywhere yet. It was 1863 and Confederate soldiers commanded by General John Hunt Morgan were on their way to reaching as far north as any Confederate soldiers ever would. That would occur on July 26 when Morgan and what was left of his troops were captured near Salineville, Ohio. On Monday, my friend, Terry, and I set out to retrace the Indiana and Ohio portions of Morgan’s three-state raid. Even though it was a slaveholding state, Kentucky did not join the Confederacy so Morgan was technically in enemy territory as soon as he entered the state but things really got interesting when he crossed the Ohio River. That’s where Terry and I started our raid following.

In the opening photograph, which looks across the Ohio River into Indiana from Brandenburg, KY, the raid is the subject of the metal marker and is noted on the stone marker. Both are overshadowed by a seventy-foot Confederate Veterans Monument that was moved here from Louisville, KY, in 2016. Louisville was beginning to think that distancing itself from the Confederacy might be a good idea but not so Brandenburg. Plaques at the monument’s new location tell its original history along with the story of its move. A “Southern Causes for the Civil War” plaque has a noticeable Confederate spin but does present something of a list of perceived causes. A “Northern Causes for the Civil War” plaque properly identifies a cause as “resistance to southern succession” then fills the panel with “things the Yankees did that pissed us off”.

Morgan spent eighteen days traveling through Indiana and Ohio. We spent four. We were traveling faster — and more comfortably — of course, plus we had the advantage of a path marked by signs and documented in guidebooks. The books used were “The John Hunt Morgan Heritage Trail in Indiana” by Lora Schmidt Cahill and “Morgan’s Raid Across Ohio” by Lora Schmidt Cahill and David L. Mowery. The signed route and the route described in the books do occasionally differ. I suspect that the signed route bypasses some of the rougher roads but I’m not certain of that and there may be other reasons for differences. Whatever the reasons, the differences are not many. We stopped at most of the sites marked by interpretive signs or called out in the books but did miss a few — sometimes intentionally, sometimes by accident. Only a few of those stops are covered in this post. It’s a brief recounting of our “raid”, not Morgan’s.

This is the Battle of Corydon Historic Site. I’ve included it to point out that the flag being flown to represent the Confederacy is the first official flag of the Confederate States of America. It is often referred to as the “Stars and Bars”. Artifacts from the steamboat Alice Dean, which Morgan sank after using it in crossing the Ohio River, are displayed here.

In the spirit of cordless phones, unleaded gas, and mirrorless cameras, this is a bridgeless creek. Terry looked over the ford at Big Graham Creek and spoke with a mother and a couple of kids beside the creek before deciding to take the plunge. Just as we started across, a pickup appeared on the opposite bank and entered the water without a pause. He passed us mid-stream on our left as a Jeep pulling a trailer followed us. Indiana may have to post some “congested ford” signs if that level of traffic continues.

Apparently, I grabbed no photos of the trail signs in Indiana. These are in Ohio. The first is at the Harrshaville Covered Bridge which was one of the few bridges crossed but not burned by the raiders. It was renovated in 2013. The U-turn sign is near Rock Springs Park where some of the raiders rested briefly. I’ve included it to show how well the driving tour is marked.

This is Buffington Island Battlefield Memorial Park. This is where things started to unravel for Morgan. Union forces met up with the raiders as they attempted to cross the Ohio River into the recently established (June 20, 1863) West Virginia. Some made it, some were captured, and some, including Morgan, escaped to run around Ohio for another week. “Run” is the appropriate word as Union troops were in close pursuit of the raiders from now on. Read the plaque on that stone marker here.

Here are a few of the more — but not most — interesting roads we traveled in Ohio. The low-water bridge on Hivnor Road over Island Run is as close as we came to a ford in the state.

Morgan’s men were involved in multiple skirmishes with federal troops, local militia, and even civilians. An encounter with Union forces at Old Washington left three of them dead. All three are buried in the town cemetery. In the past, these graves were marked by the X-barred Confederate Battle Flag, which has pretty much been usurped by modern white supremacists. I don’t know when the change was made. Here‘s a photo from 2010. There’s a closer look at one of those flag holders here.

The “Stars and Bars” was replaced as the official Confederate flag on May 1, 1863. It was not the official flag during any part of Morgan’s raid although it was undoubtedly carried by most of his troops. Here‘s a picture, taken at a spot nearer the end of the trail, of the flag, known as the “Stainless Banner”, that replaced the “Stars and Bars”. Of course, it’s unlikely that all flags were replaced in just a couple of months so any official Confederate national flag flown during the raid was probably the “Stars and Bars”. However, the flags at Old Washington and at the Corydon battle site contain just seven stars. That was indeed the way things started, but by November 28, 1861, long before Morgan headed north, the count had grown to thirteen. These flags are a welcome change from the battle flag and are closer to being the national flag at the time these guys died, but they’re still not quite right.

The yellow sign might mark the beginning of the most interesting road we traveled. The sign is itself rather interesting. “GPS route” is not an official designation so neither is “Not a GPS route. This and similar phrases seem to be a way of trying to tell truckers that, if their GPS is sending them down this road, it’s probably wrong. The road is quite steep and winding and neither Terry nor I got any pictures. We did get some shots at the bottom where Gould Road accompanies Long Run underneath the Wheeling & Lake Erie Railroad into Mingo Junction.

ADDENDUM Sep 3, 2022: This trip finally made me do something that I had been threatening. I bought a dashcam. Although I clearly do not have it mastered, I did get a video of this section on my second visit since our Morgan themed outing. Evidence that I’ve not mastered the camera is shown in the lack of sound and GPS and speed information but the “interesting road” can be seen here.

There was still a little daylight when we reached the point where Morgan and his remaining troops were captured. Terry took aim on the surrender marker and so did l. The plaque is here.

We pretty much used all the available daylight on each of the four days we spent covering the trail. The first three days had been completely dry and we even dodged much of the rain that started appearing on the afternoon of the fourth. We attributed our good luck regarding the rain to a black cat that had started to cross our path then stopped and turned around. We didn’t realize just how lucky we were until we got home. Wind and rain picked up as we drove from that “END” sign to our motel in Carrolton, but once we arrived, we temporarily lost all interest in weather. And weather wasn’t much of a factor when we drove home the next day. I was shocked when Terry called to tell me he had learned that several tornados had been sighted in Jefferson County on the day we reached the trail’s end. I was even more shocked to discover that, roughly half an hour before we took our surrender marker photos, a tornado had damaged twenty-three homes, a church, and a business about twenty-five miles away in Wintersville. Apparently, that cat turned around just in time.

ADDENDUM 26-Oct-2021: Even though this outing was not documented with daily posts in this site’s journal section, much of the mechanics behind it were pretty much the same as trips documented there. That includes the routing and tracking that allow locator maps to be made. So, I’m adding a locator map because I can.

My Caboodles — Chapter 5
Preble County Covered Bridges

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The Caboodles series was conceived as something to fill in otherwise empty weeks with subjects from completed outings. But, like every other rule connected with this blog, that was far from ironclad, and about halfway through Tuesday’s visits to the eight covered bridges in nearby Preble County, I realized that I would have a legitimate caboodle at day’s end. I decided to use the designation in the weekly post to create the blog’s first-ever real-time caboodle.

Once upon a time, there were approximately 3,500 covered bridges in Ohio. More than 95% of them are gone but that still leaves nearly 150 standing. Eight of those are just to my north in Preble County. On Tuesday, I headed to the county seat of Eaton and had breakfast at the cleverly named and jam-packed Eaton Place where I’m quite certain the waitresses knew everybody’s name but mine. From there I headed to the nearest of the bridges barely a mile away.

1. Roberts Covered Bridge is one of only two Preble County Covered Bridges that are closed to traffic but its claims to celebrity go far beyond that. It is one of only six remaining double-barreled covered bridges in the country and is the oldest of those. The only covered bridge of any sort that is older is the Hyde Hall Covered Bridge in New York, and it is older by a mere four years. Roberts Bridge, obviously the oldest in Ohio, was built in 1929. The Hyde Park Bridge was built in 1825. The bridge was moved here in 1990 from its original location south of Eaton.

2. I’d entered approximate coordinates for each of the bridges into my GPS and proceeded to visit them by heading to whichever was closest. That method next took me to the Christman Bridge a little north of Eaton. Numerous bridges were damaged by a major storm in 1886, and one man, Everett S. Sherman, was contracted to rebuild fifteen of them. That helps explain why the Roberts Bridge is the only pre-1886 bridge standing and also explains why six of the currently standing bridges were built by Sherman. He built this one in 1895

3. The Geeting Covered Bridge was built in 1894 to replace a ford and foot log over Price’s Creek. Floor beams have been broken by overloaded trucks and in 1969 an over-height truck took out some of the roof but the bridge has been repaired every time.

4. It’s fairly obvious that this is the other currently standing bridge not open to traffic. The Dixon’s Branch Covered Bridge does remain quite useful, however, having been moved to the Lewisburg Community Park and put to work as a shelter house. Although there is a parking area right next to the bridge, I initially missed it and ended up walking across much of the park from another lot. That was actually a good thing since I would have otherwise missed this bit of artwork which I’m guessing is from storm-damaged trees.

5. The Warnke Covered Bridge is the northernmost in the county and is the last bridge Everett S. Sherman built. Apparently, it was not one of the jobs resulting from the 1886 flood but was undertaken to repair more localized damage due to an 1895 flood. In this case, repair meant a whole new bridge.

6. The Brubaker Covered Bridge is the only one of Preble County’s older covered bridges to have more than a single small opening in its sides, and even it wasn’t always that way. It is the covered bridge equivalent of stone ‘S’ bridges seen on the National Road and elsewhere. Construction methods of the time placed bridges at right angles to the stream they crossed which sometimes forced the roadway to curve as it approached the bridge. That wasn’t a big deal for pedestrians or horses but became a big deal when automobiles started flying along at tens of miles per hour. The greatly widened openings allowed motorists to see and be seen. There was a rack of Preble County bridge brochures at every one of the covered bridges but the one pictured at the beginning of this post was here.

7. Everett S. Sherman built the Harshman Covered Bridge over Four Mile Creek in 1894. Like most of the Preble County bridges, it’s on a nice straight road that provided a through-the-bridge view in both directions. And, also like most of those bridges, there is a mid-span opening that provides a nice up-the-stream view to anyone traveling slow enough to see it.

8. Had I spent some time working out a full route, I would have probably ended my bridge tour at the northern edge of Preble County then slipped into my birth county (Darke) to do some visiting. As things turned out I’m kind of glad that this was the last bridge of the day because it really is the oddball of the bunch. It looks modern because it is. It was built in 2012. It mimics nineteenth-century bridges in its use of the Burr Arch truss design. It is built of wood so the covering can be justified as protection just as it was in the nineteenth century. There are, of course, other ways of protecting wood today as well as other bridge-building materials. I’m not a fan but neither am I a hardcore opponent of bridges of this sort. It is hardly the only retro-bridge in the country. They are what they are.   

Book Review
A Good Road from Plymouth Rock to Puget Sound
John & Alice Ridge

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I’m going the get the full disclosure stuff out of the way right up front. In July of 2020, as I was getting serious in planning my own drive on the Yellowstone Trail, the Ridges gave me access to an online preliminary version of the Washington chapter of this book. Then, when I actually made that drive and stopped to visit them in Wisconsin, they supplied me with their most recent markups for all of the states I had yet to cover. But, even with those extraordinary “sneak peeks”, holding the finished product in my hands revealed some wonderful surprises.

One can be seen in the picture at left. It is not, as one might reasonably guess, an image of exposed strata at a geological dig somewhere along the Trail. It is a shot of the book’s unusually colorful edge. The book’s subtitle is “A Modern Guide to Driving the Historic Yellowstone Trail 1912-1930”, and a majority of its pages are dedicated to providing that guidance through maps and mile-by-mile descriptions of the route and things beside it. There is a brown-edged guide section for each of the thirteen states through which the Yellowstone Trail passed. Those guide sections also contain what the authors call “History Bits” on a gravel background that appears mottled at the edges. These pages contain old newspaper articles, driving notes, and other items. Preceding each guide section is a yellow-edged introduction to the state. Green-edged pages contain history and other information that does not apply to a single state. Although I have no field experience with this color coding, it strikes me as something that cannot help but make it quicker to access a specific subject or map.

All those colors also serve to indicate that the book goes well beyond its subtitle. I wasn’t totally oblivious to that in my earlier looks but with those, I had been almost entirely concerned with where to go. With relaxed navigational needs, those yellow and green pages got a lot more attention and I found them quite interesting. They make good reading even if you have no intention of ever driving a single mile of Yellowstone Trail. In fact, not every item on them is directly tied to the YT. Plenty of interesting information and stories about the early days of auto travel appears on these pages and on some of those gravel pages, too.

As can be seen, there are tons of photos in the book. They are in color on non-gloss paper. Most are rather small but all are clear and large enough to serve their purpose. Sure, it might be nice to see some of these images as 8 by 10 glossies but this is a book to use not to lay on a coffee table. The paper choice helps keep the book’s price reasonable and the image size allows more to be included. Good choices, I’d say.

I guess you could say that the gravel and brown pages are the reasons for the book’s existence. They make up that “Modern Guide to Driving the Yellowstone Trail”. It is these pages that I have actually used in the past and I found them accurate and informative. Note that, although “History Bits” and “Mile-By-Mile” pages are interspersed, all “Mile-By-Mile” pages are on the right-hand side and no individual entry is split across pages. This is just one example of the author’s remarkable attention to detail.

The whole book is organized from west to east. The state chapters go from Washington to Massachuttes and mileages given within the chapters are from the state’s western border. An ordering from east to west is probably more common in route guides, but there is certainly nothing magical about it. Primary maps use a uniform four-miles-per-inch scale with each typically covering something around 20-30 miles. They are augmented with higher precision insets when needed, and low-resolution full state maps show where each section map fits within the state.

I have encountered guides that contain turn-by-turn directions and almost nothing more. As a solo traveler, I can appreciate such guides because they make it easy to stay on the route. They also make it easy to miss some point of interest. That does not describe this guide. Using it requires either significant preplanning, a navigator, or frequent review. It may seem like I’m saying that’s a bad thing although I definitely am not. I want good information and I’ll deal with it through preplanning and frequent stops.

The Ridges have been researching the Yellowstone Trail since the mid-1990s. In 2003, they helped form the modern Yellowstone Trail Association and currently serve on its board. They published the 96-page Introducing the Yellowstone Trail in 2000 and probably almost immediately began thinking of this larger guide. That sounds like a long time to research a subject but this subject is over 3,600 miles long and the fact that the records of the original Yellowstone Trail Association were destroyed in 1930 when it ceased operation sure didn’t make it any easier. The Ridges have used that time well and brought together an incredible amount of information on the route’s history as well as its path which they share in a book they call an invitation.

The yellow-edged introduction to South Dakota ends with an invitation to “…enjoy the Trail through the state…”, and there are other invitations in the book as well. The big one, however, is in the very first sentence of the preface. “This book is an invitation to take, by auto or armchair, the Great American Road Trip along the nearly forgotten but historically important Yellowstone Trail.” I invite you to first acquire then accept John and Alice’s invitation. I’m doing it from an armchair right now but I’m ready to do it by auto despite the fact that I did it a few months ago. I’m always ready to repeat a trip, of course, and I always discover things I missed the instant a trip ends. But not like this.

A Good Road from Plymouth Rock to Puget Sound: A Modern Guide to Driving the Historic Yellowstone Trail 1912-1930, John Wm. Ridge and Alice A. Ridge, Yellowstone Trail Publishers (July 2021), 8.5 x 11 inches, 428 pages, ISBN 978-0-9702832-5-2, Available through the Yellowstone Trail Association.

Driving Lessons

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During the writing of Tracing A T To Tampa, the fact that I had never driven a Model T Ford began to bother me more and more with every passage that referred to some detail about the car that “put America on wheels”. I had seen plenty of Model Ts and had ridden in a few but every comment that I made about the T’s operation came from observation and “book learning”. I wondered about how accurate I was being.

The T that I traced to Tampa is believed to be the touring car in the first photograph which belonged to my great-grandparents. The coupe is a car they owned many years after the Florida trip. It is currently in the possession of an uncle and I considered bugging him for driving lessons but in the end, I went for the Model T Driving Experience at the AACA museum in Hersey, PA. That gave me access to multiple cars in an environment set up for novice drivers. I combined it with a few other items from my to-do list and made a road trip that is documented here. The driving experience is included in day 4 but not much is said about the actual driving. That’s what prompted me to make this blog post.

This picture is one I used in the trip journal. It shows the four cars that students were to drive. I drove the green, yellow, and red cars but the black car, actually a roadster pickup truck, conked out before my turn came. It was replaced by another black roadster pickup, but the top stayed up on the replacement. That’s it in the b&w photo at the top of the article.

The image at left was taken from the “Ford Model T Instruction Book”. Model Ts were often delivered by train or other means directly to a new owner with nothing resembling today’s dealer prep (and accompanying charge). The 45-page book provided all the information necessary to prepare, operate, and maintain what might be the very first powered vehicle the owner had ever seen.

Our cars had all been prepped, of course, and all were equipped with electric starters. Plus, we would have the advantage of a classroom presentation with visual aids. Against the open doorway, the visual aids weren’t a whole lot easier to see in person than they are in the photograph but we all had copies available in a handout. The use of the spark advance and battery/magneto switch in starting the engine was discussed but today the instructors would take care of those details. Students would be dealing with the hand throttle, the steering wheel, and three pedals.

It seemed everyone was familiar with a hand throttle from a tractor, lawnmower, or something similar. And everyone recognized the steering wheel. It is one of just two controls that have maintained the same function from Model T to Tesla although neither can be operated with modern instincts. Most modern cars have a steering ratio of 12:1 or more; the ratio for Ts is 4:1 or 5:1. It is essentially the only thing on a Model T that can be called quick.

This picture of a Model T’s three pedals appeared in the handout. The bulk of student brain activity would be focused on these. ‘C’, ‘R’, and ‘B’ markings identify them as clutch, reverse, and brake. The brake pedal is the other control that technically retains the same function in modern cars as in the T. However, like the steering wheel, how well it performs that function is dramatically different. Today’s brake pedals are mostly power-assisted and hydraulically connected to large disc brakes at all four wheels that will bring a 3,000-pound 60 MPH vehicle to a halt in forty yards or so. A Model T’s brake pedal is mechanically attached to bands that tighten around a shaft in the transmission that will bring a 1,200-pound 10 MPH vehicle to a halt eventually.

Although there is nothing quite like the reverse pedal in modern cars, its function is simple and easy to understand. With the car stopped and no other pedal pressed, pushing it to the floor causes the car to move backward. The idea of “no other pedal pressed” would really apply to all of the driving we would do on this day. The pedals would be pressed one at a time.

Clutch pedals in modern cars are becoming increasingly rare but they do exist and it’s tempting to think that knowing how to operate a modern manual transmission will help in operating a Model T. Not a chance. Almost every instinct developed by driving manual transmissions will only get in the way when driving a Model T. I will expand on this later but today we would be doing all of our driving in low gear which meant that the clutch was engaged with the pedal pressed and disengaged with the pedal released. Yes, driving in low gear did translate to driving at low speed and I don’t doubt that some readers will think that lame. Pshaw. With 4:1 steering in a fairly primitive car with totally unfamiliar controls, 15 MPH was plenty fast.

A Q&A session followed the presentation then we moved outside where instructors reviewed parts of what we had learned using the real Model Ts as visual aids. Next, an instructor climbed into the driver’s seat of each car and a student joined them for a lap around the course as a passenger. The “course” was an unmarked path around a closed-off portion of the museum grounds with an uphill section on grass and a downhill section on asphalt.

The green roadster was the first car I climbed into but I have no pictures of me as either a passenger or driver. Even though I’d read about it and had ridden with others doing it, the strangeness of holding that clutch pedal down to keep moving didn’t completely register until it was my foot doing the holding. I also was a little surprised at how much the throttle was used. It was positioned for easy fingertip access while holding the wheel and adjustments were required for climbing the small hill and at other points too. I also did a lap as a passenger in the yellow speedster. The instructor thought that prudent because of some play in the steering. I managed to hand off my camera for the speedster drive but only have a picture from that first lap. My drives in both of these cars went well in that I didn’t run into or over anything and I didn’t stall either one. That streak would not continue.

Helpful volunteers did snap pictures of me at the wheel of the other two Ts, both of which I managed to stall. In fact, I stalled the cool-looking furniture van twice. At ages of 94 to 108 years, these vehicles are entitled to some idiosyncrasies and they do indeed have them. For the speedster, it was steering. For the red van, it was a dead spot in the throttle. Twice, when I wanted a little more oomph, I moved the throttle a little when it needed to be moved a lot. I have a different excuse for stalling the black pickup. Model Ts have a parking brake of sorts but using it was not part of the day’s normal procedure. There was no need in the level lot. For some reason, the previous driver had seen fit to set it but that did not keep me from reaching the beginning of the hill before the combination of brakes and incline started to bog things down. The instructor figured that out just as the T’s engine chugged to a halt. With that exception, my drive in the little pickup was understandably the best of the day. Operating that strange clutch and using the hand throttle never became 100% natural but, as it is with most things, the more I did it the better I became.

I said I would expand on clutch operation and I’m going to use a detail from an earlier picture to help with that. I’m also going to take the opportunity to describe briefly what happened when I stalled those cars.

Until it is up and running, a Model T’s engine needs to get its electrical power from a battery. A switch on the dash-mounted wooden box controls that. Following a stall, the instructor would flip that switch to battery and maybe make some adjustments to the throttle and spark advance. They would then tell me to press the starter button. In the picture, it’s on the floor. In other cars, it was on the verticle panel below the seat. Once the engine started, the instructor switched things back to magneto operation and away we’d go.

As I’d recently been thinking of my great-grandfather driving a Model T to Florida and back, at some point I began to think about him with his foot pressed to the floor for the whole trip. That really wasn’t required and that lever that the instructor is holding in the picture above is part of the reason. Pulling it all the way back activates small drum brakes on the read wheels. That’s what was going on when I stalled the pickup. Moving it all the way forward enables high gear. With high gear selected, pressing the clutch pedal to the floor still engages low gear, releasing it partway disengages the transmission, while releasing it all the way engages high gear. So, when driving to Florida, push that lever forward, press and hold the clutch pedal until you’re moving at a decent clip, then slowly release it. Adjust speed with your fingers as necessary and let your feet relax.

The museum does not call what they offer a school. It’s a Model T Driving Experience. The certificate I received simply acknowledges that I “completed” the experience with no indication of how good or bad I did or how badly I frightened the instructors. It does not authorize me to do anything whatsoever and that includes bragging about driving four different Model Ts in low gear without stalling two of them. I’m doing that entirely on my own.

Heritage Village Cincinnati

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Friday felt a little odd. It had absolutely nothing scheduled but it was surrounded by days that did. Noting strenuous or even particularly time-consuming, but there were meetings and appointments with specific times that had to be attended to. It would seem logical, I think, to want to just sit around the shanty on that uncommitted day, and that’s probably what I would have done if the day hadn’t promised sunshine and 80 degrees. I know it was my awareness that there would soon be a huge gap between 80 degree days that made me want to avoid wasting this one. I went out to breakfast at a place a little farther away than normal and which I hadn’t been to in a long time. Over a goetta and cheese omelet, I pondered ways to put the day to use. Museums weren’t high on my list because I did not want to spend a lot of time indoors, but I eventually used “museum” as an internet search term and got a near-perfect hit. Heritage Village Museum & Education Center is definitely a museum. It says it right there in the name. But it also says it’s a village which means there is some open space. It really did seem to be exactly what I was looking for.

It wasn’t far from the restaurant where I was eating, so I simply headed directly there when I was done. As I approached the building where admission fees are collected, I passed a sign stating that guided tours were scheduled for 10:00, 12:45, and 3:00. It was about 10:30. Inside the building, I joked that I’d timed my arrival quite badly for a guided tour. The attendant agreed and added something about the last one being yesterday. I eventually figured out that guided tours are given May through September, and that she meant the last one for the year. It was October 1. I somehow felt less foolish missing a tour by a day than by half an hour. I paid my admission. received a self-guided tour brochure, and set off to guide myself.

The first building encountered was also the first building moved into the village. Elk Lick House was from a spot in Clermont County that is now covered by East Fork Lake. The Chester Park Train Station and Crossing Tender’s Booth came from Winton Place across Spring Grove Avenue from Chester Park racetrack and amusement park. The McAlpin’s clock is one of the few things in the village I remember in its original location. It stood in front of the store on Fourth Street from 1992 to 1999. It was actually the fifth clock to stand there with the first four falling to “the elements and traffic mishaps”.

The Fetter Store came from what is now known as Owensville in Clermont County. It was built around 1866. Dr. Langdon’s Office was moved here in 1973 from the Linwood section of Cincinnati. Preparations for Halloween and trick-or-treating were in evidence behind the doctor’s office as well as in that tender’s booth back at the train station.

Myers Schoolhouse is the newest addition to the village and is actually still in the process of being restored. It was moved here in 2008. Its official name was Delhi Township District School #3. It was in use as a school from 1891 until 1926 when Delhi Township consolidated all of its schools.

After reaching the schoolhouse and turning around, the first building encountered is the Somerset Church. The Presbyterian church was built around 1829 and, until it was moved to the village in 1991, stood near Fields Ertel and Montgomery roads less than a mile from where I currently live. Next to the church is the Kemper Log House and a reproduction of its stone kitchen. The house that Rev. James Kemper built in 1804 is the oldest structure in the village. It originally stood near where Cincinnati’s Eden Park is today.

The Hayner House is both the beginning and end of the tour. It was built near South Lebanon in the 1850s. In the village, it faces Sharon Creek as it once faced the little Miami River. The entrance to the museum and gift shop, where tour tickets are purchased, is on the other side of the house. A glance down while walking between the creek and the house can provide a reminder as to just which state you are in.

Smooth As Glass

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Not long ago, I read about Jack Pine’s Glass Pumpkin Festival in a Make The Journey Fun blog post and thought it interesting but just a bit far away for a casual outing. Then City Beat published an article on it that renewed my interest but didn’t make it any closer. The weather, however, did. Right on cue, temperatures plummeted into the 40s on Wednesday, the first day of autumn, and stayed there Thursday. Possible rain was predicted for Saturday and Sunday. Grasping at Friday’s sunny and 70 seemed a very logical thing to do and the two-hour drive to the festival became a very logical way to do it.

I had not signed up in advance so didn’t make it into the reserved parking area but walking from the overflow area was hardly a hardship and the $5.00 parking fee was the only thing even remotely resembling an admission charge. That’s Pine’s studio and production facility in the first picture. The “pumpkin patch” pointed to by the arrow in front of the biggun in the second picture is shown in the third. It’s where pumpkins and other products of the Pine studio are displayed and offered for sale.

Pumpkins and pumpkin-shaped items are naturally the biggest sellers at this time of year. The theme for the 2021 Pumpkin of the Year is “Celebrate Life”. A number of them are lined up in the second picture. No two alike, but no two totally dissimilar.

There are some real pumpkins in the patch and some of those are quite impressive.

Glass pumpkins outnumber the organic kind and will undoubtedly outlast them, too.

After making a pass through the Pumpkin Patch, I roamed among the other vendors taking glorious photos of the sunlight sharing itself with their glass and metal art. I captured a pumpkin ice cream cone held high in front of the place where I bought it and took pictures of the fellow who played guitar and sang while I ate it. I entered the studio and recorded several phenomenal photos of the talented glass blowers and the gorgeous objects of art they produced. Then I misplaced the SD card containing those photos. This photo taken with my phone is all I’ve got. The festival continues through today (Sunday) so there’s time for you to take your own pictures. Or find some in the parking lot.

ADDENDUM 27-Aug-2022: The chances of finding pictures in the parking aren’t as good as they once seemed. The lost SD card was found and turned into its own post for Halloween. It’s here.