Eastern Seaboard Vacation 4: Whales and Towers and Cemeteries
The next day, we had tickets to go whale watching. This meant dragging Darwin out of bed early (before 10 AM) and getting him up to P-Town in time to board the 10:30 boat, which we did.
The boat had two levels, and Darwin wanted to go up top, so we did, along with a hefty group of other whale watchers. With everyone aboard, the boat headed out of the harbor and toward the whale preserve off the Massachusetts shore.
The weather couldn't have been more perfect: crystal sky, bright sun, warm, and a flat calm ocean. A youngish cetologist came on a mic and told us about the various whales we might see. She'd been studying the area for years and knew all the big ones by sight.
There was a long period with nothing, then we caught glimpses of some minke whales, which are small and shy. At the first sighting, everyone got up and ran to the port side of the boat, which made it lean. This was both amusing and unnerving.
In the far, far distance, a fin whale breached, but it was hard to see. Only the blue whale is bigger than the fin whale, and it would have been cool to see better, but ah well.
And then we saw a trio of humpbacks. The surfaced to breathe several times, and also dove deep several times, exposing their tail flukes. (For you Christopher Moore fans, none of them had BITE ME written on them.) Most humpbacks have white front flukes, and in the plankton-filled water, they seem to glow green under the surface, so you can see this ghostly green creature hovering below the surface for a while before the whale surfaces. Whales both fascinate and frighten me (I know it's illogical, but they do nonetheless), so I found this eerie.
We got to see the whales broach several times. There were a bunch of other smaller boats out looking for whales, too, and every time the humpbacks surfaced, they rushed over like fanboys stampeding to see Mark Hamill, and "our" cetologist complained that they were violating the rules. When whales surface, the area becomes a no-wake zone so the whales don't get hurt, but these boats didn't care. Fortunately, none of the whales we saw were injured.
I took some photos and I'll post them on Facebook--it's too difficult to post them here, and besides, we've all seen photos of humpbacks. It was very interesting and a little nerve-wracking at the same time. It was well worth the time and money, though.
When we got back to P-Town and disembark, we decided next to explore the Pilgrim Monument. The Monument is a 280-odd foot high tower built of rough granite blocks, and it sits on the highest hill at Provincetown. Granted, this isn't very high--P-Town is barely above sea level--but that only makes it stand out the more. The native lady who helped us find our car the previous day told us that when she was growing up, she and her friends often went out into the swamps and coves to play but never worried about getting lost because they could just sight on the Monument to find their way home.
The Monument was built in 1910 to commemorate the Pilgrims, who landed first at Provincetown before continuing on to Plymouth. Teddy Roosevelt dropped in to help set the first cornerstone, and Howard Taft dedicated it two years later. It's the tallest granite structure in the USA and juts upward like a great stone finger. You pay $10 at the gate, and they shoo you toward the tower. At the base is a little house that was built in the very early days of P-Town and was eventually turned into the very first museum in Massachusetts.
Darwin is acrophobic in the extreme, but he stoutly maintained he could climb the tower because it was enclosed, so off we went!
We were a little worried, though. The tower has no elevator, so you have to spiral your way up inside. That's a LOT of stairs! But it turned out some kind soul had years ago ordered the interior wooden staircase removed and replaced it with a ramp that spiraled up instead. It made the climb much, much easier! We weren't even winded when got to the top.
Along the way, you can read plaques set into several blocks that were donated by various cities and organizations across the USA Each block gives the city or organization's name and what year it was founded. One was from an association in Michigan, but I don't remember the name.
At last, we arrived at the top. The panoramic view of the Atlantic and the town and the coves was spectacular. I especially liked the view of the local graveyard--I'd never seen one from this high up. The top is enclosed with plexiglass and wrought iron fencing, so there's no chance you can fall, but Darwin turned a little green at the sight anyway and had to go sit on a bench for a while. Eventually he regained his composure and edged close enough for a few quick glimpses. I have no fear of heights whatsoever and spent considerable time trying to get better photo angles, which only made Darwin turned greener. Eventually I had enough, and we spiraled back down, to Darwin's relief. But he did the climb, so go him!
At some point during our visit, we did tromp through the cemetery at Orleans, something we both enjoy. We were a little surprised at the lack of graves from the 1700s--the gravestones all came from after the Civil War. Though it's very likely that earlier graves were either unmarked or marked only with wooden monuments, which didn't survive.
We did find one oddity, though--a low brick building the size of a large shed or small cottage with a peaked roof. It had no windows and heavy locked wooden door. We initially thought it had once been a storage area, a place to put the dead in winter, where the cold would preserve the bodies until the ground unfroze in the spring and they could be buried. However, this one had a strange feature--a square opening at the bottom of the door. It reminded me of a dog door, but it was completely open. I got down on my knees to peer through it and found myself looking at three metal sarcophagi lined up in the little room. There were inscriptions engraved on the long sides, but I couldn't read them entirely. They were from the 30s, though.
This puzzled both Darwin and me. If the little shed was actually a crypt, why did it look like a shed? Why was there a hole in the door? Why was there no inscription outside?
It occurred to me much later that maybe the building had indeed once been used for storing corpses in winter, but after mechanical digging equipment came along (late 20s, early 30s), the cemetery no longer needed it for that and maybe they decided to sell it as crypt space. That would explain a lot, though it seems like the people who bought it would want epitaphs (or at least a family name) on the outside.
It made for an interesting graveyard visit, though!
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The boat had two levels, and Darwin wanted to go up top, so we did, along with a hefty group of other whale watchers. With everyone aboard, the boat headed out of the harbor and toward the whale preserve off the Massachusetts shore.
The weather couldn't have been more perfect: crystal sky, bright sun, warm, and a flat calm ocean. A youngish cetologist came on a mic and told us about the various whales we might see. She'd been studying the area for years and knew all the big ones by sight.
There was a long period with nothing, then we caught glimpses of some minke whales, which are small and shy. At the first sighting, everyone got up and ran to the port side of the boat, which made it lean. This was both amusing and unnerving.
In the far, far distance, a fin whale breached, but it was hard to see. Only the blue whale is bigger than the fin whale, and it would have been cool to see better, but ah well.
And then we saw a trio of humpbacks. The surfaced to breathe several times, and also dove deep several times, exposing their tail flukes. (For you Christopher Moore fans, none of them had BITE ME written on them.) Most humpbacks have white front flukes, and in the plankton-filled water, they seem to glow green under the surface, so you can see this ghostly green creature hovering below the surface for a while before the whale surfaces. Whales both fascinate and frighten me (I know it's illogical, but they do nonetheless), so I found this eerie.
We got to see the whales broach several times. There were a bunch of other smaller boats out looking for whales, too, and every time the humpbacks surfaced, they rushed over like fanboys stampeding to see Mark Hamill, and "our" cetologist complained that they were violating the rules. When whales surface, the area becomes a no-wake zone so the whales don't get hurt, but these boats didn't care. Fortunately, none of the whales we saw were injured.
I took some photos and I'll post them on Facebook--it's too difficult to post them here, and besides, we've all seen photos of humpbacks. It was very interesting and a little nerve-wracking at the same time. It was well worth the time and money, though.
When we got back to P-Town and disembark, we decided next to explore the Pilgrim Monument. The Monument is a 280-odd foot high tower built of rough granite blocks, and it sits on the highest hill at Provincetown. Granted, this isn't very high--P-Town is barely above sea level--but that only makes it stand out the more. The native lady who helped us find our car the previous day told us that when she was growing up, she and her friends often went out into the swamps and coves to play but never worried about getting lost because they could just sight on the Monument to find their way home.
The Monument was built in 1910 to commemorate the Pilgrims, who landed first at Provincetown before continuing on to Plymouth. Teddy Roosevelt dropped in to help set the first cornerstone, and Howard Taft dedicated it two years later. It's the tallest granite structure in the USA and juts upward like a great stone finger. You pay $10 at the gate, and they shoo you toward the tower. At the base is a little house that was built in the very early days of P-Town and was eventually turned into the very first museum in Massachusetts.
Darwin is acrophobic in the extreme, but he stoutly maintained he could climb the tower because it was enclosed, so off we went!
We were a little worried, though. The tower has no elevator, so you have to spiral your way up inside. That's a LOT of stairs! But it turned out some kind soul had years ago ordered the interior wooden staircase removed and replaced it with a ramp that spiraled up instead. It made the climb much, much easier! We weren't even winded when got to the top.
Along the way, you can read plaques set into several blocks that were donated by various cities and organizations across the USA Each block gives the city or organization's name and what year it was founded. One was from an association in Michigan, but I don't remember the name.
At last, we arrived at the top. The panoramic view of the Atlantic and the town and the coves was spectacular. I especially liked the view of the local graveyard--I'd never seen one from this high up. The top is enclosed with plexiglass and wrought iron fencing, so there's no chance you can fall, but Darwin turned a little green at the sight anyway and had to go sit on a bench for a while. Eventually he regained his composure and edged close enough for a few quick glimpses. I have no fear of heights whatsoever and spent considerable time trying to get better photo angles, which only made Darwin turned greener. Eventually I had enough, and we spiraled back down, to Darwin's relief. But he did the climb, so go him!
At some point during our visit, we did tromp through the cemetery at Orleans, something we both enjoy. We were a little surprised at the lack of graves from the 1700s--the gravestones all came from after the Civil War. Though it's very likely that earlier graves were either unmarked or marked only with wooden monuments, which didn't survive.
We did find one oddity, though--a low brick building the size of a large shed or small cottage with a peaked roof. It had no windows and heavy locked wooden door. We initially thought it had once been a storage area, a place to put the dead in winter, where the cold would preserve the bodies until the ground unfroze in the spring and they could be buried. However, this one had a strange feature--a square opening at the bottom of the door. It reminded me of a dog door, but it was completely open. I got down on my knees to peer through it and found myself looking at three metal sarcophagi lined up in the little room. There were inscriptions engraved on the long sides, but I couldn't read them entirely. They were from the 30s, though.
This puzzled both Darwin and me. If the little shed was actually a crypt, why did it look like a shed? Why was there a hole in the door? Why was there no inscription outside?
It occurred to me much later that maybe the building had indeed once been used for storing corpses in winter, but after mechanical digging equipment came along (late 20s, early 30s), the cemetery no longer needed it for that and maybe they decided to sell it as crypt space. That would explain a lot, though it seems like the people who bought it would want epitaphs (or at least a family name) on the outside.
It made for an interesting graveyard visit, though!
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