Alexandersmap

    Category: Travel

    • Ho-Ho-Kus

      In 1698, right about when Hannah Dustin was kidnapped in Haverhill, Massachusetts and eventually escaped back down the Merrimack River, settlers in New Jersey established a permanent home in a community that would eventually be called Ho-Ho-Kus.  As a New Englander, I’d never heard of this town, but I absolutely know some of the people who have come through this community.  Aaron Burr married into the community and lived at the Hermitage.  Other notable visitors included Alexander Hamilton, Benedict Arnold,

      I had a lovely dinner at the Ho-Ho-Kus Inn, which is an old farmhouse that’s been built up over the years to become a highly-regarded restaurant.  Being a visitor to the area, I didn’t know the history of the name, but it clearly originated from Native Americans who lived in this region.  The Borough of Ho-Ho-Kus has an excellent history of the community and provides theories around the name.

      According to the Borough’s site, the origin of the name comes from one of these possible origins:

      it is an Indian word for running water

      it means cleft in the rock or under the rock or hollow rock

      it comes from hohokes signifying the whistle of the wind against the bark of trees

      it is named from the Chihohokies Indians whose chief lived here

      it comes from the Dutch Hoog Akers for high acorns or Hoge Aukers, Dutch for high oaks

      its “Ho” part means joy or spirit and the rest of the name hohokes means a kind of bark of a tree

      it comes from Indian hoccus meaning fox, woakus, gray fox.

      Whatever the original meaning of the name, it’s certainly interesting.  Having worked for a company with a hyphen, and partnering with another company that has a hyphen, I appreciate the commitment of the borough to retain this unique spelling.  It’s one thing to add hyphens when you’re handwriting the name.  It’s quite another to type hyphens into the name. 

      I’ve been to a lot of places in my lifetime.  I’m happy to add Ho-Ho-Kus to that list.  I don’t know which of the origins is correct, but the one that resonates for me is that “Ho” means Joy or spirit, and the rest references bark.  So to me, it makes sense that it would refer to the whistle of the wind through the high oak trees.  I’ve heard that sound myself in other places and find it a joyful noise.  So perhaps the spirits of the ancients are whistling to us as they pass through the oak trees.

    • Tappan Zee

      The longest bridge in New York State from 1955 until it was replaced in 2017 was the Governor Malcolm Wilson Tappan Zee Bridge, or the abbreviated Tappan Zee.  I’ve crossed this bridge countless times, but don’t remember the occasion of the last time I crossed it.  I do know that it was sometime in 2017, when I was working for a company out of Pearl River, New York.  Yesterday they blew up a section of this bridge and let it splash down into the Hudson River.  I happened to be about ten miles away from there when it came down, as I’m working for another company based in nearby Mahwah, New Jersey.  The demolition didn’t take down the entire structure.  There’s still a span that will be dismantled instead of blown up.

      For me the Tappan Zee was the alternative to the George Washington Bridge further downstream for most of my travel from New England to points south.  Mostly that meant New Jersey or Philadelphia, but sometimes it meant trips to Washington, DC or Florida.  Crossing the Hudson is a key part of any travel West or South from New England, and the Tappan Zee was usually the less congested alternative to the GW.  None of this means much really, but for me the trips across the Tappan Zee on my way to the Dad Vail Regatta were particularly meaningful.  I was awestruck the first time I crossed this huge span of the Hudson River, seeing the red cliffs lining the opposite side.  The GW gives you Manhattan views.  The Tappan Zee gives you the mighty Hudson in all its glory.

      The new bridge crosses right next to the location of the older bridge.  It’s a fine thing, and I’m sure it was worth the $4 Billion they spent on it.  Candidly it doesn’t have the same hold on me that the old bridge did.  But I hope it lasts every bit as long as it’s predecessor. 

    • First Light

      First Light

      Dawn comes more slowly in the valley.  I’m in one now in Mahwah, New Jersey.  I’ve watched the sun brighten the sky around us, and the dark shapes of the surrounding hills.  As the sun rises the high points are hit with that first morning light.  I watch a distant house on a hill brighten into a laser reflecting sunlight to my hotel window.  Closer to where I am the hills grow pink as the suns rays cast what warmth it can muster on this frigid day.  The pink glow on the cliffs and trees slowly inch downward until finally, the sun light shines on me, huddled in my car as it warms up and eventually warms me too.  Dawn has come in Mahwah.

    • Up the River

      Up the River

      Reading the history of Henry Hudson, James Cook and other explorers who were looking for the Northwest Passage across North America, I marvel at the logistics of sailing square-rigged ships up rivers like the Hudson River or the St. Lawrence Seaway.  Sailing in narrow corridors with strong currents, questionable winds with the trees and cliffs lining the shores, and no charts to help navigate with, it’s an incredible display of sailing acumen.  I’m in awe that they could do it.

      I’ve sailed up a couple of rivers, most notably the Merrimack River and the Essex River.  In each case I was in a sloop-rigged boat of about 36 feet.  We knew where the channel was, and we had a diesel engine to fall back on should we need it.  That’s a far cry from the Halve Maen (Half Moon in English), Henry Hudson’s ship, which was a square-rigged and 85 feet long.  Hudson sailed up the river that bears his name in September of 1609 with a crew of about 20 men.  They sailed as far as present day Albany before turning around.  Albany would become a hub of trade with the interior over the next 100 years and the river would become well known, but Hudson was essentially sailing with one hand tied behind his back.

      The Basque were exploring North America before Hudson made his voyage into the interior.  I’ve documented previously the adventures of one soul who made it all the way to Rochester, New York before he perished.  The French were also actively exploring the interior, and of course the Spanish were focused on areas farther south on the continent.  All of them exhibited exceptional courage and skill in navigating these waters.  As a casual and occasional weekend sailor I’m deeply impressed with what they were able to accomplish.  Lost to history of course are the many who failed to make it home from these voyages.

    • Tea and Taxes

      Tea and Taxes

      The Boston Tea Party occurred on December 16, 1773 as a way to protest the tax on tea imposed by Parliament.  The colonies were loyal British subjects until a series of intolerable acts drove them away.  Taxation without representation.  No place was more ornery than Boston.  The Boston Massacre took place almost three years earlier as Bostonians protested Parliamentary legislation that imposed hardship on the colonies.

      Much of the taxation was a result of the debts incurred during the French and Indian War.  The Author Walter Borneman floated an interesting what if scenario about the aftermath of the war, when Great Britain gave Guadeloupe, Martinique and Dominica back to the French.  The money from sugar and rum that Great Britain could have realized from those islands could easily have paid for the war and given Parliament less reason to look to the colonies for tax revenue.

      The power of tea in colonial times was significant.  First, it offered a safe way to drink water at a time when cholera and other waterborne diseases were a possibility with every sip.  Boiling water for tea effectively killed the bad stuff before it went into your mouth.  Secondly, tea is made from a mix of leaves from plants that offered medicinal benefits as well.  Tea is full of antioxidants and catechins that help fight diseases and cancers.  And tea has caffeine, which I’m quite familiar with as a net benefit addition to my diet.  The alternative to drinking tea was to drink coffee, which was harder to get in colonial times, or rum, which also killed much of the bad stuff, but wasn’t exactly optimizing the workforce.

      So tea was the magical drink of the time, and it really pissed off the American colonies when some bureaucrat in London imposed taxes on it without giving them a voice in the political process.  Taxation without representation was the gasoline poured on the fire that turned loyalists into rebels.  Colonists were less frequently in mortal peril from the frontier at their backs.  The French had been defeated, the frontier was pushing further and further away from the coastal cities and the threat to day-to-day life evolved more and more to be the Mother Country.

    • Control

      Control

      Some things are in our control, while others are not.  We control our opinion, choice, desire, aversion, and, in a word, everything of our own doing.  We don’t control our body, property, reputation, position, and, in a word, everything not of our own doing.  Even more, the things in our control are by nature free, unhindered, and unobstructed, while those not in our control are weak, slavish, can be hindered, and are not our own.” – Epictetus

      Know what’s not in my control tonight?  The Internet connection is down.  My reaction?  Type this abbreviated blog post on my phone and save the big stuff for another day.

    • The Price of Time

      The Price of Time

      Foggy mist is socking in Bristol, Rhode Island tonight.  I’m here to watch a basketball game, or more accurately see Ian for a couple of hours and talk to him for a couple of minutes.  The time investment is always significant when you have active kids, but I don’t mind the price.

      I remember my mother commenting on the hours she invested to watch me row by for a couple of minutes.  I didn’t really factor in the time they were allocating to watch me row by and grunt at them afterwards, but I’ve learned in the years since.

      Hopefully the temperature drops or the precipitation dries up and the drive to the Cape isn’t 50 miles of white knuckle.  But I’m here and committed either way.  People don’treally understand what you’d do for your kids until you have them.

    • Rail Trails

      Rail Trails

      Today I took an eight mile walk on the Windham Rail Trail with my wife.  The trail segment is four miles long and cuts through ledge and over low areas that were built up to level the rail bed.  This section of railroad was originally opened in 1849 and stopped running in the 1970’s.  At the time the technology was by far the most efficient mode of travel, and in some cases it still is.  That efficiency made it worthwhile to undertake the massive manpower project that was the laying of this rail bed.  Just the blasting and moving of ledge must have been a massive project.  Add in miles of building up low areas to that and it must have been backbreaking work.

      Today the trains are gone, replaced by power walkers, joggers, families on bicycles and dog walkers. The occasional house peaks through the trees, but for the most part you’re out in the woods, and it feels like a world away from the strip malls of Route 28.  The highlights of this trail are the long cuts through granite ledge, the water views of Flatrock Brook and Mitchell Pond, and the ghosts of the working railroad that still exist in the quiet forest.  Railroad ties stacked on the side of the trail are slowly returning to the earth as moss and wood rot eat away at the timber.  Walls made from the ledge kept a hill from creeping onto the railroad bed for decades, and now serve that purpose for the trail.

      The segment of rail trail that we walked on was once part of the Manchester and Lawrence Branch.  Eventually Boston & Maine picked up this segment in 1887, but eventually the entire branch was abandoned.  Nonprofit corporations were formed to raise funds for paving and maintaining the segments.  Today there’s a great stretch of paved rail bed from Methuen, Massachusetts all the way up into Derry, New Hampshire.

      Rail trails are popping up everywhere.  Candidly I rarely think to use them, and wish I’d done so years before.  I remember walking along old railroad beds long abandoned in other parts of New Hampshire and Massachusetts.  Re-purposing those beds into rail trails is a great way to make open space accessible for everyone.  The stretch in Windham is a beautiful example of that and that’s opened my eyes to the opportunity to explore more of these trails.

    • Robert Rogers

      Robert Rogers

      Robert Rogers was born in Methuen, Massachusetts – twenty minutes from where I currently live.  His family moved to what was then the wilderness of Dunbarton, New Hampshire a few years later.  Rogers is famous for leading a group of colonists in the French and Indian War.  There are some who will point to his debts, drinking and war atrocities committed against women and children.  These are very much the darker part of his story.  But Rogers was very good at what he did, which is taking the fight to the French and Native America populations during war.  In war you need strong leaders, and Rogers was certainly that, leading Roger’s Rangers to fame that lasts to this day.

      I first learned about Roger’s Rangers when I was a kid watching the movie Northwest Passage.  I haven’t seen that movie in 40 years, but I’ve read up on Rogers, and everything I read makes me want to learn more about this guy.  Rogers and his Rangers wore green uniforms and did epic raids and scouting missions across vast and hostile wilderness.  Roger’s Rangers were the origin of what is now the United States Army Rangers.  Live off the land, shrug off hardship and discomfort and get the job done.

      Perhaps the most epic story I read about Rogers Rangers – and there are many – is a mission when they skated across Lake George, switched to snowshoes and trekked across snow covered forest for miles.  These were tough, athletic and versatile men who never saw a mission that they didn’t want to tackle.  On another snowshoeing mission they ambushed the enemy deep in hostile territory, only to be ambushed themselves.  Rogers and many of the Rangers managed to escape by holding off the French and Native Americans until dark, separating into smaller groups and melting into the wilderness.

      By all accounts, Rogers was a brilliant soldier who adopted Native American tactics to create his own form of fighting.  Today people talk about Navy Seals with awe.  Frankly I do as well.  Rogers Rangers would hold a place of honor at the table of military heroes in America’s history.  Many of the tactics used in the armed forces today originated with Robert Rogers.  In fact, Rogers “Rules of Ranging” are still followed by the U.S. Army Rangers of today.

      Rogers was a hero of the French and Indian War, but like many soldiers he struggled after the war.  Debt, scandal, alcoholism and war crimes muddied his reputation after the war and in the years since.   During the Revolutionary War he took the British side, and it’s said that he was the one who recognized Nathan Hale (“I only regret that I have but one life to lose for my country.”) when he was spying on the British in New York.  Hale was hanged soon afterwards.  New Hampshire, which Rogers did as much to protect as anyone during the French and Indian War, expelled him as a Tory.  He would die in poverty in London.

    • Oil Delivery

      Oil Delivery

      In the early morning hours of December 31st, Buzzards Bay was very still.  There was a glow from the towns on the other side of the bay, but otherwise the night was dark yet brilliantly lit by thousands of stars.  House lights and red and green lighted channel marker buoys twinkled across the calm water.

      Off season is very quiet on Cape Cod, and that’s particularly true in this quiet corner of the Cape as well.  There are very few year-round residents, and the few that are around aren’t hanging out on the beach this time of year.  Walking down the beach to take a sunset picture last night I saw two couples doing the same, and saw one other family when I first arrived and a power walker this morning.  Solitude prevailed.

      The only company I had was announced by the distant thumping diesel engines of the tug boats pushing oil barges to and from the canal.  Tugs are a constant companion on the bay, and there was no let-up at 3 AM.  Heating oil is in high demand this time of year, and barges are running from Hicksville, New York on Long Island up through the canal to fuel thousands of customer’s heating systems.  There’s an estimated 2 billion gallons of oil being shipped through the canal annually.

      In 2007 a barge being towed hit a submerged ledge and leaked 928 gallons of oil into Buzzards Bay.  The ecosystem is very fragile in Buzzards Bay and from that point on barges are required to have two tugs to ensure that any trouble is mitigated immediately.  The 2007 leak was the fourth such incident in 32 years from 1975 to 2007, and thankfully there haven’t been any since then.  I’m told that they’ve started using double-hulled barges so that even if the primary hull is breached the second hull should contain the oil.  I hope so.

      But last night, that wasn’t on my mind so much as knowledge that the tugs and barges continue working this stretch of water from Long Island to New England and perhaps Canada.  This isn’t a 9 to 5 job, and I appreciate the people out there working the wee hours of this morning of 2018.  Hopefully they’ve reached port and are able to celebrate New Years Eve on shore.