Alexandersmap

    Tag: Salisbury Beach

    • Sailing the Gulf of Maine

      The Gulf of Maine is a corner of the Atlantic Ocean embraced by Cape Cod to the South and Nova Scotia to the Northeast.  The longest stretch of land in between is part of Maine, which gives the gulf her name.  If you look at Alexander’s map, which this blog is named for, the body of water is just below the land described as “New Englande” and “New Scot Lande”.  A land mass that I’ve grown to love, that I declared I’d explore more, and that I need to return to in earnest once this pandemic is behind us.

      cropped-54b94-alexander2527s2bmap.jpg

      Yesterday we had the opportunity to sail on Fayaway with friends.  It was an out-and-back sail with one tack.  We left the Merrimack River where they moor Fayaway when they aren’t exploring the world and sailed generally on a compass heading of 90 degrees, which took us roughly along the coast of Maine just out of sight of land.  Sail for 18 miles out one way, tack and return 18 miles the other way.  Not a lot of tactical sailing required, which was perfect for a day of conversation and contemplation on the water.  We had a secondary objective of seeing whales and maybe that evasive Comet Neowise, but each proved elusive on this trip.  A sunfish made an appearance, which was akin to an understudy playing the role when you came to see the star: Wasn’t what you came for, but turned out to be entertaining just the same.

      When we got out of the lee shore of Cape Ann the wave action picked up, with 3 to 6 foot swells that lifted Fayaway and reminded us we were well out at sea.  But Fayaway handles wave action well, and with her sails reefed in the 28 – 30 knots of sustained wind were comfortable for the duration.  Which invited conversation about travel and plans for the future and the kind of catching up you do when it’s just you and others and the wind and splash of waves for hours.

      I’ve learned that I’m a bit rusty with ancillary sailing terminology that goes deeper than the basic rigging, and assisted where appropriate while staying out of the way the rest of the time.  When you see a couple who have sailed together for a year covering thousands of miles you’re witnessing a well-choreographed dance.  I’m not the sharpest knife in the drawer but I know enough not to be the clumsy fop who thumps onto stage mid-act.  Instead be the quiet stagehand who puts away the props when the performers are done.  I was grateful for a patient crew who recognized the rustiness in this sailor.

      There are a few highlights when you sail up the coast from the Merrimack.  You begin with the chaos of the Merrimack River with powerboats and jet-skis racing to win perceived races to get “there”.  It reminded me of aggressive drivers on the highway shifting two lanes and back to get one car ahead.  Its the antithesis of the sailing we were doing, and I greatly prefer being out of that race.  Once you clear the Mouth of the Merrimack, sails are up and you set course for nowhere in particular.  The lines of umbrella stands on Salisbury Beach and elbow-to-elbow fishermen and women on charter boats indicate that social distancing is a guideline many choose to ignore.  I’m sure plenty were doing their best to be socially responsible, while others proved more reckless.  I considered the similarities between drivers on the highway, power-boaters racing each other in a narrow channel to get to the fish first and close-talking beach umbrella bunnies in a pandemic for a moment, and released the thought onto the breeze.  We all live our lives in our own way in America, if not always responsibly.  I was observing from the vantage point of a sailboat in close proximity with another couple, but with the mutual assurance that each couple was taking appropriate measures to avoid COVID-19 exposure.  Maybe those beach throngs were doing the same thing.  I hope so.

      Soon Fayaway moves beyond umbrellas, beyond the sight of land, beyond the hum of motorboats, and we’re in our own world.  For much of the duration of our trip out and back we were completely alone other than a couple of commercial fishing vessels busily working the waters of the gulf.  Time on the water gives you time to ponder and think, and, if you let it, to look through the swirling waves deep into yourself.  And Sunday became another micro adventure for the books.  Leaving terra firma for the sea and exploring a relatively small segment of the Gulf of Maine.  It served as a reminder that I have far to go, but where I am isn’t all that bad either.

    • Taking Flight… Again

      Yesterday I had the pleasure of sitting in the back seat of a Cessna as my father flew again. Getting back in the left seat of a plane was a bucket list item for our favorite Navy pilot. For me it was a chance to see him in action flying and see the world from a different perspective.

      Commercial flying offers stunning views from a 12″ oval window. I’ve sat in awe at views from 30,000 feet over New Brunswick and the landing over Boston Harbor at Logan Airport. I always try for a window seat on a red eye just so I can catch the sunrise. Flying in a Cessna is different. First, you feel much more connected to the mechanics of flying, even in the back seat. Everything is right there in front of you with instruments, controls and communication with the towers all part of your experience. And that experience! The views are close to 360 degrees, you’re flying over terrain you’ve known from the ground up, seeing it literally from a bird’s eye view at 2000-3500 feet max, and going a lot slower so can savor the view more.

      We flew out of Lawrence Airport, followed the Merrimack River to the sea, turned northward following the beaches up to Portsmouth and then circled in for a touch and go at Pease International Airport before heading back to Lawrence, with a quick circle around the neighborhood in New Hampshire. Clear skies with some wind gusts making it interesting at lower altitudes. Listening to impressive banter between a flight instructor and a Navy pilot all the while. I kept my own chatter to a minimum; I was along for the ride, it was his experience… one I was happy to share.

      This wasn’t my first flight in a Cessna. I’d flown a similar route with the father of a girlfriend in college once. He did all the work, while I sat in the right seat and my girlfriend sat in the back. I’d told myself I’d like to get my pilots license then, and here we are years later with the goal shelved. Money and time and other priorities killed that goal. We can’t do everything, can we? Perhaps not. Watching the Navy fly again reminded me that even the professionals get busy with other things. There’s a shortage of pilots it seems, and work for those who wish to pursue it. I don’t believe I’ll pursue it myself, but the hourly fees to fly with a pro aren’t outrageous. Why wait when the opportunity is so readily available? That’s what brought us here, and the day was a highlight reel of memories and a reminder to not put things off. For me it was a nice change of perspective, and I think my smile was as big as the pilot’s.

      Merrimack River in Haverhill at Groveland Bridge
      Salisbury Beach, surf’s up
      Isle of Shoals
      New Hampshire coast, looking north to Maine
      Pierce Point, Portsmouth Country Club
      Merrimack River

    • A Walk on the Beach in December

      In some way my walk on Salisbury Beach today was a bookend moment for 2018.  I took a similar walk on this beach earlier in the year (writing about sea glass).  This time I was looking at my computer screen and decided I needed to take a walk.  Where better to walk than a quiet offseason beach?

      Winter beach walks are different in a few ways.  First, and most obviously, the water and air are colder, so you aren’t barefoot unless you’re hardcore.  I don’t shy away from cold water swims, but I wasn’t going to walk barefoot today.  Second, and almost as obviously, there aren’t all that many people keeping you company.  This solitude, combined with the sound of the surf, promotes quiet reflection.  And another difference in winter walks on the beach plenty of free parking.  I have a real problem with paying to park for a walk on the beach.

      I’ve always said I couldn’t live in the desert because I’d miss the ocean too much.  And yet I don’t really spend all that much time on the ocean or even looking at it.  But I know it’s there, within reach, and sometimes that’s enough.  Today it wasn’t enough, so I visited the beach for a short walk and a few pictures.  The sun was setting behind the rows of houses lining the beach, which cast a beautiful light across the beach and waves rolling in.

      I need to do this more.  We all do.  I believe that most of the worlds problems could be solved with long quiet walks on the beach.  I’m doing my part.

    • Sea Glass

      Another offseason walk on the beach brought me to Salisbury Beach.  I walk for all the reasons you might expect, and I seek out open space to give my mind room to expand.  Salisbury in summer is a mess of arcades, pizza joints and go-carts.  It’s slowly gentrifying, but it’s no Rye.  Salisbury is a working class beach, and it offers no apologies.  While I turn my nose up at arcades in middle age, I acknowledge that Salisbury Beach has great sand, crashing waves and in February, elbow room.  A receding tide offers even more elbow room, and a chance to look for treasure.

      A beach walk generally doesn’t require you look at where you’re walking.   None of the tripping hazards that some of my more granite-forward paths take me on.  Just beach sand and the occasional sea gull or metal detector swinger.  Swingers always fit the same profile; early retirement years, male, work alone and wear a very serious expression on their face.  I’ve noted some similarities in my current beach walk and will strive to never purchase a metal detector.

      The treasure I seek on a beach is glass.  Sure, sea shells and smooth stones are great too, but seasoned beach glass is a rare find indeed.  Glass comes in different levels of maturity on a beach.  There’s the juvenile, hazardous freshly broken glass, which is every barefoot beach walkers worst nightmare.  When I come across this I curse the drinker who it originated from and do my best to safely remove it from the beach.  This glass almost always originated right on the beach.

      Lightly-seasoned sea glass is a bit more interesting.  It originated somewhere out at sea, as indicated by the light buffing that the surf and sand have done to it.  Lightly-seasoned glass has the sharpness removed, but it’s still rigid around those edges.  It’s also easy to see through.  It’s always a tough call whether to keep it, leave it for another stroller or dispose of it.  My answer is to pick it up and leave it on a railing near the entrance to the beach as an offering to the retirement gods.

      The class of the sea glass is well-seasoned glass.  Like a fine wine it’s been aged appropriately, and shows unique characteristics that make finding it special.  The edges are smooth and rounded, and the glass itself is opaque, so you can’t really see through it.  Well-seasoned glass is tough to find, an usually only available on special beaches.

      My favorite beach for finding well-seasoned sea glass is in the Hamptons on Long Island.  Millions of tons of trash was dumped in the ocean over the years, and this expensive real estate features some of the best sea glass I’ve come across.  Salisbury Beach beach glass is more of the lightly-seasoned variety.  Bottles floating down the Merrimack River or dumped in the ocean offshore eventually makes it’s way to the beaches.

      Sea glass is the beautiful byproduct of trash.  At some point in the not-too-distant past a trash barge or an ignorant boater dumped that bottle overboard.  Time battered it into pieces, and the surf action buffed it.  Given the appropriate amount of aging, beach glass is charmingly beautiful.  Something out of nothing.  The environmentalist in me cringes at the origin, but embraces the recycling of the glass into something more than it once was.

      Today there just aren’t as many glass bottles being dumped into the ocean.  Plastic bottles have taken over the trash, and it’s a horrible addition to the ocean.  Much more of an environmental tragedy than adding glass bottles.  Plastic is the real enemy on the beach and in the ocean.  Thankfully the ocean isn’t the dumping ground that it once was but it will take time to make the oceans clean.  I hope we’re up for the task.  And over time our friend sea glass will become an endangered species, which makes finding it a real treasure.