Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Santa Maria

      While having a lunch in Newburyport I had the opportunity to check out a replica of the Santa Maria docked for a short stay in town.  The original famously sailed for America in 1492 with Christopher Columbus.  This one sailed to America for a 225th anniversary tour this spring.  There are plenty of differences between the original and the replica, starting with the additions of steel, fiberglass and electronics.  But the dimensions are accurate, and you got a good sense for what the sailors on board were dealing with.

      A few observations from walking around onboard.  First, a 58 foot square-rigged sailing vessel seemed too small for the 45 members of the crew.  Cramped quarters, frequent exposure to the elements, sleeping on wool rolls on a hard, sloped deck, and eating sponge cake washed down with red wine was not a recipe for optimal living.  Throw in hygiene issues, not the least of which was serious body odor, and health concerns ranging from scurvy to lice and it was clearly not a place I would have opted for.

      The Santa Maria, called a Nau in Spain but known as a Carrack in the rest of the world, was a three masted, square-rigged ship weighing between 80 and 150 tons, which stood high about the breaking waves.  The ship’s large hold made it attractive for someone like Christopher Columbus, who made the Santa Maria his flagship.  The raised quarterdeck allowed the captain and midshipmen to command the ship with good sight lines fore and aft.  Striking to me was just how much of a pitch the deck had.  Good for quickly shedding sea water from heavy wave action or rainwater, but standing on it in rough weather must have been tricky.

      The original Santa Maria didn’t survive the trip to America and back, running aground when Columbus and the captain both slept while a cabin boy steered the ship onto a sandbar.  Steering on the Santa Maria was done with a whipstaff, which was a vertical pole connected to the tiller.  The limitation with a whipstaff was that you could only adjust a maximum of about 15 degrees in either direction because a pole stuck through the quarterdeck to the tiller just didn’t allow for more range.  Ships wheels wouldn’t become standard on sailing ships for another two hundred years.  So the cabin boy who was steering wasn’t exactly set up for success.  Even though the ship never made it back to Spain, it remains one of the most familiar ship names in America (Show me a kid who doesn’t know Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria!).  I do hope this one has a longer lifespan and none of the navigational issues of its namesake.

      Columbus has lost his luster as a heroic figure, but there’s no doubting the courage of the crew for sailing on a ship this small, with two even smaller ships, to explore the unknown.  I think that’s why there’s still such a fascination with the three ships, and this one in particular.

    • The Merrimack River Frontier

      Yesterday I dove deep into the Cape Cod section of John Seller’s Mapp of New England.  Today I’m looking at another fascinating section – the border between “civilization” and the “wilderness’.  I’ve written before about place names like World’s End Pond in Salem, New Hampshire.  Nothing hammers that home like seeing a map from 1675 showing the Merrimack River towns of Haverhill (“Haveril“), Billerica and Chelmsford (“Chensford“) Massachusetts as the frontier towns they were at the time.  North of the Merrimack River is wilderness in this map, South are the growing settlements of Massachusetts.  The river serves a critical role for settlers and Native Americans alike as both transportation and a border.  Settlements at this time were largely along the rivers and their tributaries, the Concord and Nashua Rivers.

      That bend in the Merrimack River northward was a critical point in the understanding of this land.  Isolated outposts like Billerica, Groton and Lancaster represented the outer reaches of people like us.  The map shows Lake Winnipesaukee and its many islands, so there was clearly knowledge in 1675 of what lay beyond, but it remained for all intents and purposes a vast, dangerous wilderness for another century until the fortunes of war, attrition in the Native American population and the shear mass of settlers from Europe turned the tide.

      It’s no surprise that the most notable Indian raids of the day were happening along the frontier.  York, Haverhill, Andover, Billerica, Chelmsford, and Groton all suffered Indian raids during the series of wars between the French and British.  Further west Brookfield and Deerfield had similar raids.  These frontier towns were dangerous places, and the settlers there would rarely venture out to tend their fields unarmed.  Towns like Haverhill were building fortifications and the brick 1697 Dustin Garrison for a measure of protection in the years spanning King Williams War and Queen Anne’s War.

      There were a series of conflicts between the English settlers and the Native American population that impacted northern New England.  In all cases the underlying conflict between the expansion of English settlements and the encroachment on the Native American population was a key factor.  French influence on the Native American tribes also contributed significantly in many of the raids in Merrimack River Valley from 1689 to 1713 as raiders were offered rewards for scalps and prisoners.  Living in this area for most of my life I see many reminders of that time in our history, and I always glance over at World’s End Pond and the Duston Garrison whenever I pass either.  Duston’s wife Hannah was famously kidnapped during King William’s War, her baby and many neighbors killed, marched through the town I live in by Abenaki warriors, and later escaped back down the Merrimack River on one of those raids.

      Wars Impacting Northern New England in the Early Colonial Period:

      • King Philip’s War 1675-1678 (Northeast Coast Campaign vs. Wabanaki Confederacy)
      • King William’s War 1689 – 1697 (French and Wabanaki Confederacy)
      • Queen Anne’s War 1702–1713 (French and Wabanaki Confederacy)
      • Dummer’s War 1722-1726 (Wabanaki Confederacy)
      • French and Indian War 1754 – 1763 (French and Mohican, Abenaki, Iroquois and other tribal alliances)

      So Seller’s Mapp of New England was a living, breathing document that was strategically important to the British and by extension the English settlers living in New England.  If matters were largely settled with the Native American population in the Southern New England areas by 1675, they were anything but settled in Northern New England.  Northern Massachusetts, including what is now coastal Maine and New Hampshire were the literally on edge, looking north and west for raiders.  That they would ultimately overpower the Native American population and New France settlements was not a foregone conclusion at the time.  Another reason it completely fascinates me.

    • Where the Narrows Open Out

      Looking at John Sellers 1675 “Mapp of New England” I’m drawn to the place names on Cape Cod. “Yermoth“, Sandwich and Pocasset on the Cape, and the islands of “Martina Vineyard” and “Nantuket“. As with the entire map things are way out of scale, but still a fascinating snapshot of place in 1675 Cape Cod.  The other unique thing about Sellers’ map is that he turns New England on its side, offering a new perspective on the familiar shapes.

      The Pocasset Wampanoag were no strangers to Buzzards Bay, but they lived in the area that is now Tiverton, Rhode Island up to Fall River, Massachusetts and surrounding towns. If a place were going to be named Pocasset wouldn’t it be Tiverton or Fairhaven or some other place on that side of the bay? So how did this little corner of Cape Cod become known as Pocasset?

      The answer might lie in the word itself. “Pocasset” and some similar Algonquin names like “Pochassuck” and “Paugusset” all mean “the place where the narrows open out”. And that certainly applies to this part of Buzzards Bay. For the English settlers choosing Pocasset was likely easier than Pochassuck.  I can imagine the middle school jokes at neighboring towns if they’d gone that route.

      This place was likely visited by the Pocasset often as they traded with the Pilgrims at the Aptucxet Trading Post nearby. In talking about the land and the bay around them it’s probable that’s how the area was described as the bay opens up right after the point of Wings Neck. On the map Pocasset encompasses what is now Falmouth. Given the scale of the map it could be a minor point, or perhaps the entire stretch from Wings Neck to Woods Hole was considered the place where the narrows open out.

      That description fits the mind as well. Looking at old maps, reading books, and traveling to new places opens up my own once narrower mind. I break free of the daily routine and see things in a new way. So having a home away from home in Pocasset is more appropriate than I first thought.

    • The Rose Standish

      A little piece of historical trivia is the name of the very first ship to travel through the Cape Cod Canal when it opened on July 29, 1914.  Following the Jeopardy answering with a question format, What is the S.S. Rose Standish?  And the ship was the perfect choice to be first.

      Rose Standish was the first wife of Captain Myles Standish.  She was one of many who died in 1620 during the first winter after the Pilgrims arrived in Plymouth, Massachusetts.  Myles Standish would explore the Manomet and Scusset Rivers three years later considering a canal.  That canal would finally be completed almost three hundred years later with great fanfare, with a future President of the United States, then Assistant Secretary of the Navy Franklin D. Roosevelt, in attendance.

      That first ship, the S.S. Rose Standish, was a coastal passenger vessel built just two years earlier in 1912 and operated by the Nantasket Beach Steamboat Company of Boston.  On that July day in 1914, she led a parade of ships through the canal.  The celebratory mood was likely tempered by news breaking about events the previous day, when Austria-Hungary declared war on Serbia, marking the beginning of World War One.  Almost exactly four years after the canal opened that war would impact the canal itself when a German U-Boat surfaced off of Orleans and fired on a tug towing barges.  That prompted the United States Army Corps of Engineers to take over the struggling private Cape Cod Canal so ships wouldn’t have to take the more dangerous route around the cape.

      The S.S. Rose Standish would be in service into the 1930’s.  There’s a great picture from 1930 of her docked in Boston Harbor, right about when the Cape Cod Canal was being widened to its current 480 feet.  She likely outlived many of the people who witnessed that first trip up the canal 16 years before.  History is full of related twists and turns, and this story offers a good example with Rose Standish, one of the first pilgrims, a young Franklin D Roosevelt and a German U-Boat all playing a part in the same story.

    • Talking Turkey

      This morning I went for a 3 1/2 mile walk and came across a large tom turkey standing on the side of the road. A little later in my walk I saw another turkey, this time a hen, about twenty feet up in a tree. Two turkeys in 3 1/2 miles isn’t exactly extraordinary nowadays in New England, but I was on the Cape and you don’t think of turkeys and Cape Cod. But like everywhere else in New England the turkey population has exploded.

      When I was a kid running around in the woods of various towns in Middlesex County, Massachusetts I never saw a wild turkey. The first wild turkeys I ever saw were in South Kent, Connecticut in 1993. I remember it because it was a unique experience at the time. But Litchfield County is where you might expect to see wild turkey. It’s also where I saw my first coyote in the wild. Now you can see turkey almost anywhere.

      This exponential turkey population growth took place while we (most of us anyway) weren’t paying attention. Back in maybe 2007-2008 I recall seeing a few here and there but it was still a novel experience. Today in Southern New Hampshire it’s novel if I go a day without seeing or hearing one. There are an estimated 40,000+ turkey in New Hampshire today, and an estimated 200,000+ in New England.

      It wasn’t always this way. When Europeans first settled in New England they started clearing the land for farms. This destroyed the habitat of the wild animals that lived there, and those who didn’t die out from lack of habitat were eliminated through hunting. Turkey, deer, pigeons, wolves, bear, and countless other animals suffered the same fate. By 1850 turkey were largely extinct in New England.

      Efforts to re-introduce turkeys began in the 1930’s, first with releasing domesticated turkey into the wild. When that failed wild turkey were caught in Upstate New York and released in New England states. Over time those turkey reproduced and the population growth began to accelerate. One Tom can mate with many hens, which can hatch 6-12 eggs. With few predators it’s easy to see why the population exploded. Today they’re seemingly everywhere, including a little peninsula jutting out into Buzzards Bay.

    • Sauntering

      “Sauntering, which word is beautifully derived “from idle people who roved about the country, in the Middle Ages, and asked charity, under pretense of going a la Sainte Terre, to the Holy Land, till the children exclaimed, “There goes a Sainte-Terrer,” a Saunterer, a Holy Lander.  They who never go to the Holy Land in their walks, as they pretend, are indeed mere idlers and vagabonds; but they who do go there are saunterers in the good sense, such as I mean.  Some, however, would derive the word from sans terre without land or a home, which, therefore, in the good sense, will mean, having no particular home, but equally at home everywhere.  For this is the secret of successful sauntering.  He who sits still in a house all the time may be the greatest vagrant of all; but the saunterer, in the good sense, is no more the vagrant than the meandering river, which is all the while sedulously seeking the shortest course to the sea.  But I prefer the first, which, indeed, is the most probably derivation.  For every walk is a sort of crusade, preached by some Peter the Hermit in us, to go forth and reconquer this Holy Land from the hands of the Infidels.” – Henry David Thoreau, Walking

      Well that paragraph was a mess.  I love Thoreau, but my goodness does he go all over the place with his writing.  So while I’ve quoted him here, I’ve used boldface to emphasize a few points that fascinated me enough to include the quote at all.  First and foremost is the origin of the word itself.  Sauntering, from Sainte-Terrer, is a lovely example of how English words are derived.  Pure magic in this word; saunterer, both in origin and in the magic it conveys.  Thoreau’s second observation, that the successful saunterer is at home everywhere hits home for this saunterer at heart.  My own adventures in travel with purpose have confirmed this to be true.

      Three years ago I actually went to the Holy Land, not on a pilgrimage, but as a history buff.  Walking through the Old City was meaningful for me, I can only imagine what its like for the millions of followers of Judaism, Christianity, and Islam.  In some ways I was a vagabond walking through the Old City.  My purpose was history, and I found it to be a successful trip. I got as much out of seeing a cart loaded with bread or an old flight of stairs with two ramps built into them to accommodate carts like the one saw loaded with bread.

      Back to Thoreau for a moment, and something he wrote later in the same book: “I think that I cannot preserve my health and spirits, unless I spend four hours a day at least – and it is commonly more than that – sauntering through the woods and over the hills and fields, absolutely free from all other worldly engagements.” Which brings me to Gunstock…

      Today I went sauntering in a different way, with hikes up to Mount Gunstock and Mount Belknap.  You couldn’t pick two more different walks, between a hike in the Lakes Region of New Hampshire and a walk through the streets, churches and markets of the Old City in Jerusalem.  But to me, they’re both meaningful in their own way. One payoff is the views of the mountains and Lake Winnipesaukee, but so was the forest floor scattered with Trillium, the blueberry bushes in blossom, and criss-crossing a mountain stream several times. If sauntering means traveling on a path towards enlightenment, then both places can get you there.

    • Cafe Carpe Diem

      Like millions of bloggers, I’m sitting in a local coffee shop writing away with a slight espresso buzz.  I’m old enough to remember when coffee shops were very different animals, but young enough to appreciate the change.  To me signs of progress are increasingly great coffee shops, micro breweries and distilleries, locally-sourced food and the wide availability of avocados and artisan cheese.  Its the little things in life, and life boils down to these daily experiences strung out over however many days we’re given.

      “The secret of life is enjoying the passage of time.” – James Taylor, Secret O’ Life

      Starbucks really accelerated the explosive growth of great coffee shops.  Even the crappy coffee places had to up their game a bit.  Samuel Adams on the east coast and Anchor Steam on the west coast upped the beer game in our darkest hours of beer mediocrity.  Others looked around and said we could do the same with whiskey and vodka and cheese and chocolate….  really almost anything.  Nowadays I can’t drive through any remote crossroads without seeing a sign for a distillery, organic meats and cheeses, vineyard, brewery or local coffee shop with freshly roasted Italian espresso.

      As a child of processed food 1970’s America I love how far we’ve come.  No longer the laughingstock of the world when it comes to food and spirits, America (at least the part I live in) has embraced all things artisan.  And that greatly enhances this daily experience.  Twenty years ago I remember driving to the Starbucks in the center of Andover, Massachusetts to get my dose of the good stuff.  There weren’t a lot of Starbucks on the east coast back then, but Andover had one, betraying the hipster culture of this Philips Andover prep town.  Two doors down from that Starbucks was a chain bagel place.  Today the bagel place is a distant memory – a casualty of low carb diets or changing tastes.  What was amazing in 1990 is average today.  And chain bagels are… average.

      That Starbucks is still going strong, but walking in I stood in the wrong spot and some Andover-attitude babushka jumped in front of me and whipped out her phone app without a thought for the injustice of it all.  The barista was unsympathetic; after all I stood in the wrong spot.  So I took a step back and looked around, realizing that it wasn’t really the vibe I was looking for anyway.  I walked out and walked down the street to a local coffee place called Nero, which has better food, acceptably robust coffee and an independent, cool vibe that met my needs.  And that’s where I wrote this blog, thinking about Wonder Bread, Schlitz Beer, Ring Dings, Howard Johnson’s Chicken Croquettes and how absolutely far we’ve come as a society, and how far I’ve come as a consumer.

    • The Pine Tree Riot

      Maine is known as the “Pine Tree State” for good reason; it’s one of the state’s most significant natural resources. New Hampshire has plenty of this particular resource as well, but “Granite State” works just as well. That combination of pine sap and granite makes for a gritty edge. New Hampshire settlers were no pushovers, as seen in people like John Stark and Robert Rogers (born in Methuen, but raised in NH). You can add Ebenezer Mudgett to that list.

      White pine trees made excellent ship masts, and the British Navy needed a lot of them. New Hampshire was a British colony, and in 1722 the New Hampshire General Court passed the Pine Tree Law, reserving the best of these white pines – those with a diameter greater than 12 inches, as the property of the King of England. The trees were marked with a distinctive broad arrow slash. For 50 years New Hampshire lived with this law simmering resentment. These same trees could be sold to merchant ships for a nice profit, or made into floor boards or other profitable products for the lumbermen and sawmills in the state.

      When British surveyors tried to enforce a fine on a sawmill in South Weare, the owner of that sawmill, Ebenezer Mudgett and 40-50 locals rose up in defiance on April 14, 1772. Defiance to them meant hauling the Sheriff and his Deputy out of bed in the middle of the night and beating them with sticks, cutting the ears off of their horses (WTF?) and sending them fleeing off into the night. Not exactly Saratoga but hey we had to start somewhere, right?

      Eventually eight men were charged in the assault, but received light fines. One of the judges in the Pine Tree Riot case was my old friend Theodore Atkinson (I think he’s reminding me that I ought to pay a bit more attention to his accomplishments soon). The case got a lot of attention in the colonies as many others felt the frustration of the Pine Tree Rioters.

      Some say the Pine Tree Riot and the relatively light fines inspired those who participated in the Boston Tea Party in December 1773. What is definitely true is the White Pine became a symbol for New Hampshire in the Revolutionary War, and flew at Bunker Hill when John Stark’s New Hampshire Regiment held off the British flanking maneuvers.

      Today you can have a pint of beer at Able Ebenezer’s Brewing Company in Merrimack, New Hampshire and scan the walls to read some of this history. Maybe have a pint of Broad Arrow as you look at the replica Pine Tree Flag on the wall. Either way, celebrate that New Hampshire independent streak and the role our forefathers played in the creation of these United States.

    • Rhumb Lines and the Great Circle

      Whenever I take a flight of any consequence, I inevitably pull out the airline’s magazine to flip through.  I usually end up scanning the flight maps that appear in the last few pages of the magazine to see the arcs of the travel routes from various hubs.  I’m not a navigator, and I’m definitely not a mathemetician, but I have a keen interest in travel and the most efficient way to get from point A to point B.  Rhumb lines illustrates how that happens on a big blue ball, where we can’t very well cut through the middle.  Instead, we calculate the great-circle distance, which is the shortest distance between two points on the surface of a sphere, as measured along the surface of the sphere.  That dotted line that connects the two?  That’s our friend the rhumb line.

      On land rhumb lines don’t help much.  You’ve got to follow the lay of the land, accounting for natural obstacles to progress like mountains, large bodies of water or the George Washington Bridge.  Up in the air, or on the ocean where these types of obstacles are mostly eliminated (reefs and large continents excepted), plotting a course from say, London, latitude 51° :30 m:0 s N, longitude 0° :10 m:0 s W to Philadelphia, latitude 39° :56 m:58 s N, longitude 75° :9 m:21 s W is visually portrayed as a sweeping arc, as you’re flying from the smaller circumference northern latitude to the larger circumference southern latitude.

      Screen Shot 2019-05-19 at 8.04.49 AM

      There’s a nice online resource for visualizing this, as seen in the image above.  It comes from gpsvisualizer.com and allows you to enter either the longitude and latitude for your two points or simply plug in the airport codes for each as I did for London and Philadelphia.  This site didn’t help those Portuquese sailors trying to show other sailors how to sail to the Gulf of St Lawrence for cod fishing, so navigation maps were drawn and copied with the rhumb lines to show sailors which heading would get them there and back.

      I’ve made a few dotted lines across the world over the years, and hope to make many more.  I think basic navigation should be a requirement for all kids in school, as it teaches not just math skills but also illustrates how small we are blipping across the fragile surface of the earth.  Rhumb lines convey hope for the journey ahead, appreciation for how far we’ve come, and focus on the path we’re currently traveling on this great circle.  I’m surely not the only one to pluck that analogy out of this fundamental of navigation, but I’ll celebrate having gotten here eventually.

    • Frogs and All

      Yesterday, after thirteen lucky years together, our black lab Bodhi took his last breath.  Forgive me for this brief eulogy.

      There was the time you dug up every tulip bulb I’d just planted because you smelled the bone meal I used to fertilize them.

      There was the winter when we thought you escaped and were lost and drove around the neighborhood and then the town trying to find you late into the night, only to realize that you were lying under the shed all along.

      There were the countless questionable dining choices you made over the years on underwear, the extra ingredients in the cat litter, various leather goods and your favorite, flattened frog roadkill. The ongoing battle with the cats where they’d eat your food so you’d eat theirs. I respected that.

      I’ll miss those 10 PM power walks we’d do, and admit I don’t walk as much as I did when you were healthy. Back when you were a teenager you’d occasionally charge towards the woods, chasing a rabbit or a black bear or maybe a zombie; I was never really sure. I learned to anticipate those abrupt maneuvers and would spool out retractable leash like I was running out line on a marlin.

      Your best move was late night hide and seek. Pretty clever of you, being a black lab on a moonless night standing perfectly still when we let you out, until we gave up and went in for a flashlight. Even then you were usually found in the very last place I’d look for you.

      The pool filter won’t be the same without a full season of black fur clogging it up. You were one hell of a water dog, and swam so much you’d get ear infections. You always had a look of sheer delight when you would push the screen door to the side and sprint straight to Buzzards Bay, kids in chase behind you. You must have seal somewhere in the family tree.

      We’ll miss you Bodhi. 13 lucky years with you was not quite enough.  We loved you, frogs and all.