Welcoming Summer: A Fort Hill Walk

It was these clouds that drew me to Fort Hill.

I was already on my way to Eastham, as banking was scheduled as part of yesterday morning's activities, since I've not yet gotten my sh*t together about direct deposit. I'm a little wary of giving control of my money to computers, truth be told, and so for now, I'm still making weekly trips back that way.

Even more honestly, I miss living in Eastham. It's a terrific little town I've lived in on and off for much of the last ten years, and I've explored it in the car, on my bicycle and on foot. It's as much home to me as anywhere. A place that's familiar to me, where I am comfortable. I haven't really explored Harwich much yet, though hopefully the summer will bring such opportunities. But I like being in Eastham and so I suspect the weekly banking trips are my way to keep going back.

And it's that time of year when - work commitments allowing - it's easy enough to be let oneself be distracted from the beaten path.

I spotted the cloud when it was still just one large puffy mass, as I drove east on Route 6. It was just hitting the breezes off the ocean as it drifted across the outer beach and as I drove, I could see it splitting into four distinct chimneys. I wish I'd pulled over to take a photo then, as it was quite a sight.

I wanted a nice open spot to do so, though, and so I decided a detour to Fort Hill was just what I needed. Plus, I wanted to see if the lupines were blooming.

Fort Hill sits just above Nauset Marsh, which is protected from the Atlantic's surf by the barrier of the Outer Beach. There's a small parking lot on the hilltop, which is a wonderful place to sit and look in all directions.

It's also one of my favorite spots in Eastham for star-gazing, something I used to do often on the way home from late-night work shifts. There are no streetlights, which makes it ideal for meteor shower viewings and spying ships passing the Cape far out to sea late at night. On the right summer occasions, it can offer a view of distant fireworks displays.

If I were an early riser, I imagine it'd be perfect for sunrise, too.

There's a series of nature trails in the area, the first of which slopes down from the parking area to Doane Rock, a great boulder which sits on the shore of the marsh and offers more views along the shoreline.

Standing atop the rock, it's easy to imagine one of the area's native population doing the same while scouting the area in the days before Europeans arrived.

On the hillside that slopes down toward the marsh and Orleans town cove, it's a wild jumble of green, hosting an assortment of twining vines, yarrow, wild roses (many of those tiny white ones I've mentioned so much of late), milkweed, buttercups and also, a great stand of lupines.

I missed the height of the show this year, sort of on purpose, since I wanted to be sure I was able to collect a little seed. I did find a few still in bloom, but they were fairly far off the path.

Leaving the path really needs to be a careful business, as this is one of those areas Mother Nature protects with one of her fiercest defenders, those dreaded Leaves of Three, poison ivy.

I was well-clad, though, and have no interest in a another of those episodes, so caution was high.

Not only did I get a great photo, but also snapped off a small stalk of fully-formed seedpods. I'll hang it to dry and hopefully have seed to plant later this summer.

Further along the path, these pink rose blossoms drew me in with their brilliant happy colors and sweet fragrance.

You never know what you'll see at Fort Hill, from a wildlife standpoint. Gulls are a regular sight, of course, and rabbits. But I have also surprised in my headlights, when arriving for some of those star-gazing sessions, owls and foxes, and other occasions, spied herons in the waters of the marsh.

Today's sighting was this red-winged blackbird, who perched in a dead treetop just above the rock. There were other people wandering around the rock today, so I didn't climb it. Nor was I able to stay and explore as long as I might have liked.

The path near the rock offers some great views of it's own, both into the green marsh itself and of the mighty Atlantic Ocean beyond. (By the way, Atlantic, Robin says "hey, how's everything?".)

Lingering to enjoy the views meant being able to inhale more of that rose-scented air, which I did for a few minutes, until the cloud of cologne accompanying a newly-arrived clump of out-of-place tourists overpowered nature's roses and I knew it was time to move along to the rest of my day.


But not before capturing a few more shots of this special place to bring along with me. Look at that cloud - it thinks it's a whale or a mermaid.

At Coast Guard Beach

Last night's dramatic clouds brought us some light showers in the wee hours, but were breaking up as the storm moved back out to sea this morning.

After picking up the new glasses again (Yay!), I was headed to the bank in Eastham and decided to detour to Coast Guard Beach.

Not only did it get me away from the re-paving project on Route 6, but as it turned out, the surf was more exciting than normal...and the clouds moving out to sea were pretty cool, too.

I think the dragon's head is pretty clear (above, left)...but I also just watched "Jurassic Park", so maybe that's just me projecting.


Here's another video experiment. Due, I think, to the close proximity to the noon hour, the color balance is a bit off, and I'm not sure how to adjust that yet. Anyway, the crashing waves were pretty cool, even if the wind off the water plays a little havoc with the audio.



As I headed on to the bank, I spotted one of the Eastham turkeys foraging along the roadside. Always cool to see them, though he (she?) beat a hasty retreat into the woods when the camera and I appeared.

Whales of April

Tuesday was another beautiful day on Cape Cod. Our temperatures remain in the mid-40s, but the presence of golden sunshine forgives much.

As I was listening to this song sparrow (can you find him camoflagued above?)this afternoon, I was thinking a little about context. To be clear, he wasn't providing context, or even inspiration. But perhaps his song distracted me enough to think more clearly.

I know the names and the names of the locations of the bloggers I follow regularly...but names aren't everything and not always that helpful in sorting out a person's proper context, in our geographically-challenged culture. And I figure that's where maps come in.

So before we go further, I marked up this satellite photo of Cape Cod to give you a little better sense of where we are, and what we're talking about. The numbers indicate locations I'll be discussing later in this post. But as a point of reference, I've also included a pink splot over the site of our most recent former home, in Eastham, and a white one more or less indicating the site of Not Wisteria Lane (our current home).

Before you reach for the specs, this photo should embiggen reasonably.

Yah, the Cape is that odd looking arm appendage-thing that sticks out from Massachusetts about 50 miles into the Atlantic Ocean (the dark blue or black, in this image). To the north of the Cape (in the water) is something called the Stellwagen Bank. Geologically-speaking, it's an underwater plateau formed by glaciers long ago, but for our purposes today, it is also a marine mammal sanctuary and provides a feeding and play ground each summer to over 17 species of marine mammal.

As I've been mentioning, this past week all the local media have been a-buzz with the news that the whales had arrived in the area for the season. Of particular interest are the estimated 100 right whales various authorities are suggesting are in Cape Cod Bay right now.

Since this represents about one third of their total population, it's significant. Sort of like an Elks Convention, I suppose, except we can't see them wearing lampshades on their heads and goosing one another down there under the water.

So, at the end of the work day, I rendez voused with Mom and Dad and we headed out to the Outer Cape, to see if we could see anything from shore (local whale watch boats don't begin their season until next week...).

Our first stop was Head of the Meadow beach (1) in Truro. This is always a favorite of mine, as the parking lot offers some nice views of the ocean, without necessarily having to get out of the car...although I almost always do.

Right away, we spotted a tale-tell group of seabirds clustered offshore (they often follow the feeding whales around for scraps...and because the whales know the best restaurants) and we did spot one whale off-shore, a finback, I believe. "He" was moving away from us, though, so after a few moments of just enjoying the sweeping view, we moved on.

Our next stop was Race Point Beach (2)outside of Provincetown, looking north over Stellwagen Bank. To our delight, the moment we'd crested the dune that seperates the ocean from the beach, we could hear them.

The tide had been on the rise, but was then at that balance point where it is briefly still and makes almost no sound. What we could hear was the deep resonant wet blowing sound that accompanies the spout of a whale who's just come to the surface for a breath...and we could see the chrysanthemum sprouts blossoming here and there on the calm ocean surface.

We were not alone on the beach, as we are not the only ones to have heard the news of the whales' return. Although there were moments of quiet concentration, as the surf sounds renewed, you could also hear the babble of assorted conversations, peppered with exclamations or shouts at the latest spout siting, or fluke (tail) slap.

Of course, we'd all have offered a standing ovation for the whale who offered us a full-on breach out of the water...but our marine mammal friends are apparently saving such hi-jinks for warmer days. Still, it's somewhat rare to be able to see them so easily from the shore and we enjoyed what show there was.


I'll offer minor apologies here for the "Loch Ness" quality of the photos; for those of you who tune in to the Midnight Garden to see those up-close-and-personal flower shots, these may seem disappointing. Even on a whale watch boat, it's not always possible to get a good look at these gentle giants, and considering the quality of our camera, I thought they came out pretty well.

Out in the general vicinity of the whales were a few boats, a fishing vessel or two, and also, I'm sure, a boat from the Center for Coastal Studies.

Accompanying one of the fishing boats was a huge mass of northern gannets, who created a sort of flying white conveyor belt, and offered some side entertainment as they dove into the water after a fish dinner.

The gannets make a nice splash as they hit the water, diving below the surface, which was briefly a distraction for those of us spout-hunting. But then one of the whales would surface and send a plume much higher into the air, to show us the difference.

After a while, we saw that two of the whales (probably humpbacks) were making their way around Race Point and down the western shoreline, so we moved on to Herring Cove Beach(3), where we got to enjoy some more distant whale action not far off shore of Race Point Light. The setting sun played a little havoc with getting more pics of them...and really, the best views were had with binoculars.

Still, there's nothing like a Cape Cod Bay sunset to finish off your day and we enjoyed most of it from Herring Cove, before deciding to pursue our own late dinner further up-Cape.

This image of the sunset's afterglow was captured as we made our way through Eastham.

A Bit of History Revealed

Once I'd finished my time in Province town, I side- tripped to Newcomb Hollow Beach, as I made my way back upCape to work.

Readers of local news will know by now that a winter storm on January 28th of this year revealed the remains of a shipwreck here in Wellfleet, and I've been wanting to check it out.


The wreck is, naturally, not all that near the beach parking lot, but it was a lovely day for a walk on the beach.

(If you plan to visit the wreck sometimes before the sea or scavengers reclaim it, I suggest consulting a tide chart to coordinate your visit with low tide.)


Staff of the Cape Cod National Seashore and other have examined the remains, thought to have been a coastal schooner, or perhaps a schooner re-purposed late in its life as a coal barge. CCNS have posted signs asking folks to refrain from taking pieces of the ship, though having been declared "historically insignificant", the ship's remains will be left on the beach, to be taken back out to sea by some future storm.

I can see the wisdom in wanting it to remain untouched. That way, as long as it lasts (and it's the ocean's cold and salt which have kept it going this long), this glimpse into the past is available for anyone who wishes to see it. And trust me, they are: the parking lot looks as it does in the warmer months.

I only wanted photos: it's not a piece of the Berlin Wall or anything, and besides, I think the recent move highlighted the fact for me that I already carry around too many "pieces of history"!

I shudder at the idea of the remains of this wreck being used to create a wet bar counter in another Cape McMansion - talk about your progress perverting history. Just the same, "mooncussing" is a long tradition on these shores, and not everyone agrees.


Anyway...getting to the site of the wreck was a minor challenge, as the ocean which revealed the ship's remains is also doing the work of erosion against Newcomb Hollow's crumbling clay cliffs.



No matter what you believe, or what will happen to the remains of this "unim portant" vessel, it was fascinating to have a close-up look at the past, to a time (experts suggest it was constructed sometime in the late 1700s or early 1800s)when things were built to last.

I think it's good for our modern, mass-producing, cel-jabbering, over-populated society to be drawn down to the sea for a look at the past now and then. With the hypnotic rush and flow of the tide's whisper in one's ears, soothing the soul, here's a reminder that the human race has done remarkable things with limited means in the past.


Kinda gives you hope for the future, doesn't it?




While I enjoyed seeing the wreck's remains and soaking in some wonderful sun, the ocean- smoothed timbers and the creep ing surf behind me kept me mindful that the path back to the car at the base of the cliff would be covered before long.


After another look at the solid and long-lasting post-and-peg design, I headed back to the car and the rest of my not-very-exciting day, glad to have made the detour.

A Light

Overlooking the Atlantic Ocean at the southern end of the Cape Cod National Seashore stands Chatham Light, which I visited on the way home from work this evening. I didn't stay long since it was a bit chilly. We expect snow late tonight.

A Day In December

Early this morning, I slugged into a big cuppa joe, searching for consciousness after my first semi-decent night's sleep in the past week. My ever-helpful son, Badum, pointed out that there were still empty boxes to be filled.

But it was an early morning call at work and so the packing would have to wait, as I was all too shortly out the door, in time to catch a very rare (for me, honestly) sunrise on the drive into Orleans.

First here, looking east over Boat Meadow Creek...and then down below, as I crossed over Route 6 on West Road.



The day passed quickly and I was able to leave for the day before sunset, which is also rare this time of year. On the way home to those beckoning boxes, I detoured a little to the east. It'd been a few weeks since I'd glimpsed the Atlantic and frankly, I missed her.

I even spotted this cluster of fairly large vessels just south of Nauset Light Beach. I didn't stay for too long, as it was windy and cold, and as they say, I had miles to go before I slept.

There was a bit of a traffic snarl on my way back over toward Eastham center, though. These turkeys own that east side of town.

I was kind of excited to see them. I've spotted this, or some similar "herd" before on that side of town, but never when I had my camera at the ready...so I'm happy to share them here tonight.

Twelve boxes of books packed later, I find myself wondering if there'll be roaming turkeys in Harwich?

Mighty Atlantic

On the way home from Provincetown, I detoured to Newcomb Hollow Beach in Wellfleet. It was nearly high tide, and with the storms of last night moving off-shore, the surf was sort of impressive. Plus, I just love the crashing sound of the pounding waves and it was an opportunity for a better look at some of those clouds...and just a hint of blue sky!