Cape Cod

Our B&B in Yarmouth Port is beautiful.  The owners spent three years on renovation before opening their accommodation this year.  The home was built in 1827 and required a rebuild from the foundation up. The neighborhood is full of similar homes, all historic, well-maintained, with ample landscaped grounds.  We cross the street, walk down a quiet lane, and within a few blocks are looking out across the extensive marshland to the ocean.

No one lives in this very old cottage, but it demonstrates the wood shingle siding which is so prevalent on Cape Cod.

Craftsmen from England have been imported to re-thatch the roof on this old barn.  The main home on this coastal property (and many nearby properties) is truly impressive but too well-screened from the road to get a good photo.

A church at Chatham; getting ready for Thanksgiving.  Did you know that the Pilgrims stopped at Cape Cod before continuing to Plymouth?  We saw wild turkeys everyday and everywhere on the Cape.  If you enlarge the photo, you can see that the church was founded in 1720.

Expensive homes on extensive landscaped grounds abound on the Cape; and many beautiful yachts moored nearby.  We loved just driving and looking at the amazing neighborhoods.

The entire Cape Cod peninsula seems to be a mix of residential areas on large lots, small towns, and areas set aside for parks and nature preserves. Very pretty!  We drove out to Provincetown on the tip of the "hook" on our first day.  Not overly impressed, as it seemed to be your classic tourist trap.  Beach, restaurants, snack stands, curio shops, and offers of boat tours.  We are almost at season's end, with some shops already with signs announcing "closed until May 20".  But there are still plenty of lookers; imagine how crowded it must be in summer!

 We also visited Chatham, where one of the oldest lighthouses in the US still functions.  Neighborhoods of the most beautiful homes along the shore. Part of the appeal are the large, unique and beautifully landscaped grounds that these homes sit on.

Commercial fishermen still work out of Chatham harbor.

We stopped in Hyannis for lunch at a Peruvian restaurant. (While traveling we often eat only two meals per day: late breakfast, then dinner at 2-3pm.). We viewed the Kennedy compound at Hyannis Port; nice but not amazing. I envisioned it as being off by itself, but it is surrounded by other very nice homes.

Extensive marshlands along the north shore in places.  This view is at Gray's Beach.

Sunset at Corporate Beach.  We took a long walk along the beach while waiting for sunset.

Boston and north to Maine

Azores Airlines was late again. On our previous visit to Boston, the flight was 1 1/2 hours late; this time about 50 minutes late.  We arrived at our hotel at 10pm; that is 2am Azorean time.  We've had two nights near Boston to recover from our late night and to spend time in midtown Boston.  Didn't find Boston to be all that memorable.  When a historic site is surrounded by new buildings, it somehow loses its impact. The USS Constitution "Old Ironsides" was impressive. Had a nice lunch in a traditional tavern similar to the "Cheers" atmosphere.

We stayed in a hotel at Waltham which was located right on the Charles River.  There was a very nice walking path along the river for several miles. We took the very old subway into downtown Boston; the slowest subway I have ever ridden.

Dawn wanted new hiking shoes.  We found the best shoe store we had ever encountered, a huge selection of all the best brands.  Dawn bought a pair, and I bought a pair, even though I have no need, never knowing when I might find such a good selection again.  Our shoe sales lady had been working at this store for FORTY years; a very established business. [The Barn, Newton, Mass.]

We headed north in our nicely equipped Nissan Rogue to Bath, Maine.  Along the way we stopped at Kennebunkport and viewed the Bush compound, nice with equally nice homes in the surrounding neighborhood.  Bath is a shipbuilding town and has been for most of its existence.  One of the US Navy's newest vessels, a radar-evading destroyer, is being outfitted here currently.  The Maine Maritime Museum is located there. We stayed in a Victorian B&B in a neighborhood of similar large, slightly rundown, old homes.  Dawn says no more "Victorians"; it is code for "needs maintenance".  The home is 200 years old but has a great location to walk to the cute old downtown.  The door to our bedroom cannot be completely closed because the paint buildup has gotten so thick from many repaintings.

Church in Bath, Maine, across from the city library and a park.  Most of the homes in this neighborhood were built in the 1800's.

We visited locally-owned Wilson's drugstore and Reny's general store.  Really neat that such stores still exist; so we made purchases; nice wool socks fit in my suitcase. Want to keep them in business.  The night we arrived, a "northeaster" storm came through; we had a twelve-hour electrical power outage and lost a day of sightseeing to the stormy, wet weather.  A nice thing about B&Bs is the other people you meet: banker, horticulturalist, librarian, psychologist, restaurant manager, social worker, etc.  One morning we all sat at the breakfast table conversing until 11am.

Plenty of marshland along with extensive waterways along the coast.  Perfect weather to enjoy it.  After one cool, wet, and windy day, beautiful Fall weather returned.  Today we did a long hike through a coastal nature preserve to a nice beach.

 As we approached the coast on our hike, we enjoyed the view from a rocky outlook.

Looking down on the coast, bay and marshland.

Low tide at the beach and very few other hikers to share it with.



Waves breaking on the wide sand beach.

We had lunch overlooking the water at Wiscasset, then drove on to Rockland.  I had been to Rockland fifty years ago; seems much larger now.  Maine has a smaller population than Nebraska.  Lots of small towns and locally-owned businesses.  Waterways, big and small, everywhere.

 Pretty Fall colors, but not better than we have seen in other parts of the country.  Some tree leaves were still green, others had already fallen.  The forest is thick here; we asked our host about ticks.  He said that he had contracted Lyme Disease just last year; now he takes antibiotics as soon as he detects a tick bite. The area is beautiful enough that we may want to come back here and spend more time, but probably in the Fall season.

Flores Island

Wow!  Flores was a dramatic sight from first view as we landed at Santa Cruz das Flores on the east coast of the island.  A small island rising steeply from the ocean; about 8 by 11 miles rising to about 3000' centered around several volcanic caldera.  A small population of approximately 4000.  Santa Cruz is the largest population center, but still just a village.  Tourists mainly from Europe; mainly younger active types enjoying hiking and climbing. We rented a little Renault Twingo, a 5-speed manual, but we mainly use only the lower three gears due to the steep and twisting roads.  However, very little traffic.

 You can see how steep this island is, as we chug up the slopes in our little Twingo headed for the west coast of the island.  There are more cows, sheep, & goats than people.  Corvo island can be seen in the upper left hand corner.

A better view of the island of Corvo and the steep ruggedness of Flores.

A patchwork of fields on the available arable lands.  A large part of the island, especially to the north and west, is a designated natural park.

A severe wind storm (90mph winds) came through eight days before our arrival, blowing down many trees on the forested high plateau.  But cleanup has been quick.

The southern crest of Flores has less forest; more open windswept shrubbery.

Descending to the west coast, we passed the village of Fajazinna; later we had lunch there at the only restaurant.  Another visitor told us there are only eight restaurants (with limited hours) on the island, which I think is about right.

This cottage is our accommodation. One room plus a small bathroom in one corner.  The walls are two feet thick; a crude kitchen along one wall; no closets; very little hot water or room heat.  It felt like we were camping indoors.  But they had a nice central dining facility.  WiFi in the reception building. We are living in the "reborn" village of Cuada near Faja Grande.  The original inhabitants emigrated, leaving approx. twenty stone cottages which have been updated to where each is now an accommodation for a few tourists.

Absolutely beautiful!  About one mile from our cottage at Cuada up a rugged but well-marked trail.  This is Poco da Ribeira do Ferreiro.  You can see the dense clouds at higher altitude which bring rain to the volcanic basin and feed the multiple waterfalls.  If you enlarge this photo, you can see people rappelling down the left hand waterfall (look for a yellow dot about half way down the falls).

A telephoto shot makes the rappelling figures more obvious.  These falls are hundreds of feet tall.

To the west, we see the ocean, and to the east are cliffs hundreds of feet tall where multiple waterfalls cascade from the central volcanic remains of several caldera.  The island is near the gulf stream and has a mild year around climate; temperatures in the 60's to low 70's. The vegetation is lush; could be mistaken for tropical jungle.  We are struck by how clean and neat everything is.  Workers are out in the morning cleaning the road shoulders of leaves and mud after rains.

I tried climbing up the canyon to the base of Ribeira Grande but found it too dangerous; perhaps if I were equipped to wade at certain points I could have been more successful.

Poco da Ribeira do Ferreiro with better weather.  You can see about a dozen waterfalls in total along this cliff side.

With such a small population, and still somewhat undiscovered by mainstream tourists, there are relatively few hotels, restaurants, or even stores. Last night we had dinner at a local home in Faja Grande.  The owner put out a sign of what was being prepared for dinner (cod, potatoes, veggies) and we and one other couple signed up for dinner (plus wine & apple cake).  Tonight we bought dinner near the south end of the island at a "Super Mercato" a small grocery: bread, meat, cheese, and wine. What restaurants are available don't open until 7 or 8 pm; later than what we prefer.

Ponta Delgada on the north end of the island, close to Corvo.  We also had a meal at the only restaurant in this village.  The food was simple but delicious.

The northeast coast of Flores with Corvo on the horizon.

Gasoline is currently rationed here; no more than 15 liters can be purchased per day.  Thus, "filling the tank" can take a few days. I doubt we will drive that much.  Immediately after arriving, we hiked to the foot of a tall cliff where multiple waterfalls cascaded to form a small lake and stream.  A group of climbers were rappelling in sections down the face of one waterfall.  The small volcanic island of Corvo is nearby, readily visible just a few miles north.  A ferry is available for groups so six or more to visit Corvo, weather permitting.

What a beautiful and unspoiled destination this has been!

Washington, DC, to Terceira, Azores

Dawn with a statue of Vasco da Gama at the harbor front.  The Azores were already being settled years before Columbus discovered America.

Our son, daughter-in-law, and their two children make a cute family and are very integrated into life in DC.  However, it is not a city we enjoy, and our accommodations this trip were horrible.  The hotel we had stayed in last trip had doubled their prices, and this B&B had a great location, but we discovered it was lacking in every detail.  I sent a message to the booking agency to say that the favorable recommendations for this place must be fake.

After taking the Metro to Reagan National, we had sequential flights to Boston, San Miguel Island; across four time zones and finally arriving at Terceira Island in the Azores the next day.  We had such beautiful weather when we visited last November, but the forecast was for mainly clouds and light rain during this visit.  You can see from the photos that the weather was decent; only one day with rain.  Is this why the Azores aren't higher on tourism lists?

Looking down on Praia da Vitoria from Serra do Cume.  The airport is near here, and our hotel was on the beach at Praia da Vitoria.  Notice the small, lush, well-defined fields.

We picked up our rental car, Citroen C3, and headed for our hotel, dead tired, only to discover that we had no directions to the hotel: no GPS, no map detail, and no phone service.  Fortunately, we doubled back and got help from the nice lady at the tourism booth.  At times like this, it is easy to understand why so many people take organized tours or cruises.  But our hotel is wonderful; right on the oceanfront with a nice walking path along the shore.

While driving in the central part of the island, we had to stop for a goat herd crossing the road.  The goats all climbed over the pasture gate to get out on the road. As you can see, the area is a mixture of forest and fields.

Tonight, while having dinner at an intimate seafood restaurant at the harbor, Dawn remarked how amazing it is to be here at Praia da Vitoria on a remote island in the middle of the Atlantic when only a few days ago we were in Colorado.  I love it; being able to exert control over one's life and go from dream to plan to actual experience. Legend has it that the Azores are the mountain peaks of the lost continent of Atlantis.

Hiking through the thick forest after crossing open fields.  We also found places where sufuric steam was still belching out of cracks in the rock.

(next day) The weather is perfect!  And our island is perfect.  So clean, neat, self- sufficient, uncrowded, with helpful people.  Volcanic heights, forested slopes, and lush coastal fields where a wide variety of crops prosper.  Few tourists (mainly European); narrow but uncrowded roads.  We drove to the top of the highest peak, Serra Santa Barbara, today, and only two other couples were there enjoying the sights.  We could see the islands of Sao Jorge, Pico, and Graciosa on the horizon.  The volcanic peak on Pico is about 8000' high; the highest point in all of Portugal.  The entire group of nine islands is spread over almost 400 miles.

 Is that ocean blue enough for you?  As a volcanic island, there are few sandy beaches.  This is the NW shore.

The coast near Raminho; neat fields and a small village.

This flat area of fields (SE part of island) is the center of an ancient caldera about four miles across.  If you click to enlarge this picture, you can see the islands of Sao Jorge, and Pico on the horizon.

Since arriving in the Azores, we made a call to T-Mobile (my new cell phone provider) to activate an international plan.  T-Mobile is a subsidiary of DeutscheTelecom; being Europe-based, it has a reputation for good European service.  So far we are finding that this is true.  In our trips to Europe (this is trip #7), we have increasingly been expected to provide telephone connections to our hotel, airline, and shuttle services.  In the Azores, major roads are easy to follow, but in the towns and villages the roads are like spaghetti, wound together in a convoluted pattern, to where GPS is valuable.  Thus, that cell phone service is a great help.

We went to an excellent restaurant in San Martins last night which would have been hard to find without GPS aid.  Today,we explored Angra do Heroismo, the largest city on Terceira.  Finding our way to the peak of a volcanic cone located on a peninsula overlooking the city, Monte Brasil, was greatly aided by GPS.

Angra do Heroisma is located on the south coast.  The entire island population is about 56,000.  Plenty of narrow streets in the old city.  This photo was taken from the peninsula of Monte Brasil.  We had lunch at the yacht harbor.

Foreground is the city; background is Castelo de Sao Filipe at the foot of Monte Brasil.  The Castelo is still an active military installation.

 Tomorrow, we travel to Flores Island.  It is perhaps the most remote island, located an hour west of here by air.  I hope the weather cooperates while there.

A Voyage to Remember

This adventure has previously been posted on my boating blog, but it also is appropriate as travel commentary. 

When I was on active duty in the US Navy, 1966-68, I initially attended navigation school in San Diego.  The subject was interesting enough to me that I continued to study available nautical references onboard the two ships on which I served.  Spending many hours per day on the ship’s bridge deck for months at a time (crossing the Pacific twice, navigating the Mekong Delta, patrolling the Vietnam coast and Gulf of Tonkin, and cruising to Japan for maintenance) provided plenty of time for such review.

Later, in 1976 while visiting Hawaii, I picked up a reference on Polynesian navigation techniques (We, the Navigators) to help understand how the early voyagers were able to find their way in the ocean’s vastness.  In late 1980, our family was living in Panama.  My dental assistant and her husband were buying a used 44’ trawler (single diesel engine) in Florida which they intended to bring to Panama to live and cruise on.  They asked me if I would act as navigator for the trip from Miami to Colon, Panama.

They offered to pay for my flight to Miami, which I declined.  If I were to do this, I wanted it to be from a sense of friendship rather than any monetary obligation.  I provided a list of the different nautical charts, references, and instruments which would be necessary for such a trip.  My assistant’s husband, Charles, was a retired US Navy diver who now worked for the Panama Canal Company.  He was to fly to Miami and spend one week examining and preparing the boat, including obtaining the necessary navigation supplies, before we left port.  He was one very tough individual and totally fearless.  He recruited a third crew member, Bill, who I hadn’t previously met but who seemed like a solid character.  It would be just the three of us on a quick voyage back to Panama.

I had talked to one of my patients, then employed as a canal pilot, who had previously been a Caribbean charter captain.  He gave me a route recommendation, which appeared reasonable, and loaned me his sextant.  I flew to Miami on a Saturday in early December, took a cab to the yacht basin, and was prepared to leave harbor the following morning.  Upon arrival, I asked about the navigational charts and references and was stunned to discover that none of the publications I requested had been purchased because it was now December 6, and the contained data was only good through the end of the year. 

They were deemed too expensive to obtain for such a short period of use, but without the sight reduction tables, the sextant was useless.  Also, only one chart had been obtained.  It was an overall chart showing Miami toward the top edge and Panama at the bottom edge.  With such a large area to cover, the chart lacked any detail of depths and features of the various coastlines.  Additionally, the trawler had only been maneuvered on various headings once to check the accuracy and deviation of the compass.  The boat was equipped with a radar set, but the range was only a few miles.  LORAN coverage of the southern Caribbean was lacking at that time, and GPS had not yet been invented.  This was shaping up to be quite a challenge, and I was glad I had some knowledge of navigation without dependency on instruments.

Twelve-foot swells off the stern of the 44' trawler in the Gulf Stream.

Checking on supplies, the trawler was almost empty with very little on board for ballast, just some groceries, a few tools, and our suitcases.  Our only refrigeration was a single large ice chest.  On Sunday morning, we set out on our adventure.  The first leg was to follow the coast of Florida southwest to Key West, then head straight south to the coast of Cuba.  The hurricane season officially ends November 30; we were now in December but encountering strong winds.  As we headed south from Key West we were headed into night, crossing the Gulf Stream with a strong current from the west opposing strong wind from the southeast which made for large, steep waves against our under-ballasted hull.  Forty-four feet may sound like a large vessel, but, on the open ocean, it is a tiny presence.  The strong wind created a surface haze of spray allowing very limited visibility.

Instead of an enclosed bunk, I had a bed to (try to) sleep in at night.  I tried to hold onto the bed, wrapping my arms and legs around the mattress while resting, but was completely thrown out of the bed once by the lurching hull.  Once I heard a scream from Bill, “We are going over!” as the boat slid sideways down the face of a wave with the rudder seemingly useless.  Fortunately, before we were rolled in a trough by the next wave, the rudder finally caught hold and the bow came around sufficiently to face it.  When it was my time to go on watch, I filled a paper cup with water and held it in my hand.  If I were to fall asleep, I would drop the cup, and it would be my alarm.  It worked.  Everyone needed what rest they could get; there was no asking someone else to take part of your watch.

We were glad to see the morning but were now presented with a new problem.  Our large chart showed no detail of the Cuban coast.  As we continued south, we wanted to approach the coast as a navigational reference but not get so close that Cuban gunboats would escort us into port.  The solution was Polynesian navigation using cloud formations.  Distinctive cloud formations are found over islands.  Although we never actually saw Cuba, we followed its cloud formations west along the coast while staying offshore.

As evening set in, we were ready to jump off from the west end of Cuba toward Mexico.  It is an easy dead reckoning exercise (hard to miss Mexico) but it also meant re-crossing the Gulf Stream as it flows north.  We subtracted a few degrees from our compass course to allow for the current and set off into the night.  The next morning, we sighted Isla Mujeres and pulled into port for refueling.  That afternoon we headed back out to sea with Cozumel to starboard and the Swan islands as our next intended waypoint.

Heading southeast, we encountered rising wind and waves from the northeast.  As the hull angled into the face of each oncoming wave, it was obvious that the "thump, thump, thump" sound of the big single diesel slowed significantly.  The engine was losing power.  Upon inspection it was discovered that sludge, stirred up from the diesel fuel we just received, was clogging the fuel filter.  The engine was being starved for fuel.  To clean the fuel filter, we needed to stop the engine.  Then it was discovered that the alternator, used to charge the batteries, was not working.  The batteries were very low on electrical charge.  If we stopped the engine, it was doubtful that the batteries held enough current to restart it.  It was time to change course and our plan.

We turned to run with the wind toward the southwest for a smoother ride and slowed boat speed slightly to match the speed of the waves and reduce engine load.  We shut off almost all electrical equipment to save the batteries, and Charles went down in the belly of the boat, holding electrical wires by hand on the batteries until the battery acid started to bubble, in an attempt to recharge the batteries.  Through the night we steered manually, using a flashlight to read the compass, and no running lights.  When it was my turn to lie in bed, I wondered what the future would hold if that engine stopped; what bit of shoreline or reef would the drifting hull crunch coral on?  Fortunately, the engine kept "thumping".

Isla Mujeres, Mexico, 1980.  I include the date because several years later a disease hit the island and killed all the palm trees there.  Hopefully by now, the palm trees are healthy and growing again.

The next morning, we could see some of the Bay Islands near the coast of Honduras in the distance off our port side.  The wind and waves were still strong.  Charles thought that the downwind island was Roatan and suggested we aim for it.  I pointed out that if he was wrong, we would be unable to work our way back to any of the islands further upwind.  So we angled our course to port and headed for the nearest island.  It turned out to be Roatan.  The old wooden wharf was on the lee side of the island, allowing us to get out of the wind and motor quietly up to the dock (where I was to receive quite a surprise).

I was standing on the bow, dock line in hand, peering intently at the dock’s shabby state with substantial holes punched in its gray, wooden-planked surface.  I wanted to make sure that when I leaped to the dock to tie up, I didn’t put a foot through one of those holes.  Suddenly, a young black man came out on the dock, and his first words, in clear English were, “Hey, did you hear that John Lennon was shot and killed?”  Here I thought I was in some remote place far from the beaten path, and I was getting the latest news in my own language!  Mainland Honduras inhabitants speak Spanish, but on the Islands, they speak English due to previous British influence.  In Roatan we were able to get an alternator from a wrecked yacht which Charles and Bill then installed.  The fuel filter was also cleaned, and we had a good meal and rest at anchor before leaving the next morning.

Dixon Cove, Roatan, 1980.  Local transport in a dugout canoe.  Seldom seen there today; we did see some of these hollowed-out log watercraft in Panama, but they were generally much larger (bigger trees?).

We are looking at the biggest nightclub in the town of Roatan, 1980.  Today, the area is more presentable but still somewhat shabby.

We cruised east along the Honduran coast taking turns on watch.  The following morning when I came up on deck, I was immediately concerned.  I looked down at the ocean and saw churned brown water.  I yelled to Charles that we were in too shallow of water and were in danger of running aground.  He replied that the radar range he had taken indicated that we were a sufficient distance from the beach.  I pointed out that the radar was not being reflected from the gently sloping sand beach, but from a line of tall palm trees several hundred yards behind the beach.  We immediately turned out to sea until we were in clear blue water.  Later that day we passed Cabo Gracias a Dios which held a lesson for us.  The Cabo is the outlet of a major river marking the border between Honduras and Nicaragua.  A submerged tongue of silt, an invisible delta, stretches miles out to sea at this location.  You can be miles from the coast and still run aground in very shallow water.  Several shipwrecks stood as evidence.

From here we headed south and slightly east out on the open seas, away from the Nicaraguan coast, with the next intended waypoint being the island of San Andres.  The weather was now good, and we were able to troll and catch fish for dinner.  Our ice chest no longer had any ice or fresh food, so the fish was appreciated.  We were again dead reckoning [basically following a compass course allowing for expected currents and other influences] for navigation.  We never actually saw San Andres but were again aided by Polynesian navigation using wave patterns.

Ocean waves obey the same principles of physics as other types of waves.  When ocean waves or swells reach an island, the lines of wave crests are slowed causing a diffraction or bent angle toward the shallow water; on the lee side of a small island, you will see a cross-hatched pattern of waves from being diffracted around both ends of the island.  This phenomenon extends for miles downstream from the land.  Our intended path was planned so that if we didn’t actually sight the island we would pass on its lee side, and that is what happened.  Watching the wave pattern closely, you could see the oncoming waves transition to a cross-hatched pattern as we passed on the lee side of San Andres and then resume their undisturbed linear pattern as we came back into the clear.  Observing such a pattern, we knew where we were.

For the ancient navigators on the Pacific Ocean, you can understand how important it was for them to understand natural phenomena to expand the “target size” of the islands they were seeking.  From an ocean liner, at some height above the water, the horizon is distant, but from the deck of a small boat the horizon may be only 2-3 miles away.  When I was in the US Navy and we were approaching Midway Island, we had the advantage of a huge radar array atop a tall mast and still only detected the low-lying island from about 15 miles away.  The Polynesian navigators understood clouds and waves and had memorized the passing star groupings in an ever-revolving sky with its seasonal variations so that the stars provided a map to follow.  Additionally, they knew the seasonal direction of swells (separate from waves), the patterns of bird flights, as well as other more subtle influences, and had memorized the legends of previous voyages.  Think of it as their equivalent of an advanced college degree.  I had only learned a few of their “beginner” topics.

 

On a calm evening at sea, we continued southeast toward the coast of Panama.  I miss-judged slightly in estimating the coastal currents; when we sighted the Panama coast the next day, we were 10-20 miles east of the Colon harbor entrance.  But it was a familiar coast, where my wife and I had spent numerous snorkeling and sailing trips, and only a short cruise to correct our position.  During the trip, each of us had been emotionally self-contained.  We simply focused on the mechanics of getting through each day.  No long conversations; no sharing of concerns.  I still didn't know Bill's background, and he didn't know mine.  However, at the entrance to the harbor Bill turned to me and said, “If I were to meet someone who wanted to do the same trip with me as crew, I would charge them at least $2000.”  [Remember, these were 1980 dollars] I turned to him and said, “Funny, I was thinking the same thing, and I came up with the same price.”

Back in Colon harbor.  Our children were quite young at the time.  My daughter told me, "Daddy, we need to get you home and take the yuckies off your face."

Months later, my wife Dawn and I would cruise with Charles and Jean to the San Blas Islands where we did run aground with their trawler, but that is another story.

A visit to Omaha

Dawn and I traveled to Omaha this past weekend for my mother's 101st birthday.  Not exactly a big trip, but I think that it may include a story worth re-telling.  Our world has changed so much since she was born.  In attendance at the birthday party were her 97 y.o. brother and her (almost) 92 y.o. sister.  We encouraged them to tell us stories of their childhood.

When my mother was born, World War One was still raging and the world was also caught in a pandemic influenza outbreak which killed millions of people.  Antibiotics had not yet been developed.  She was raised on a large, 240 acre, farm with a large farmhouse (two stairwells and five bedrooms).  However, their home had neither electricity nor running water.  The stove was heated by burning corncobs retrieved from the hog lot after the hogs had eaten the corn kernals off  (and the poop had been knocked off).  Only the kitchen and parlor were heated.  The farming was done with horses.  During the summer, the men worked the fields until sundown and the children carried their meals out to them.  As children, they remember no discipline problems; too busy with farm chores to get into trouble.  Their grade school was a fairly convenient walk, only 3/4 mile away.  The mailbox was 1/4 mile distant.  On snowy winter days, sometimes her father would hitch up the wagon and horses to take them to school.

Then the great Depression came; times were hard.  The material from flour sacks was used to make clothing.  Christmas brought an apple or orange in your stocking hung by the fireplace.  At that time there were five children; the only holiday present one year was a board with holes in it where the children could compete to toss marbles through the holes.  Toys were what you made up yourself using your imagination.  When a horse died, they skinned it and made a horsehide blanket.

My mother recounts that when she started high school there were 48 children in her class.  When she graduated there were only 24; the other half of her class dropped out to help at home on their farms.  My mother was valedictorian of her high school class (all 24), but there was no thought of further schooling.  She got a job as a domestic: cleaning and caring for children in other people's homes.  She had an attic room to stay in when she worked for a couple in the city of Omaha.  Eventually she got a job as a bookkeeper for Robinson Seed Company.  Interestingly, bookkeeping was a standard course she had been taught in high school.  Subsequently, she met my father who, at age 22, was back home after four years in the US Navy.

Her brother had played on his high school basketball team, although he had not been introduced to the sport until entering high school.  Her younger sister had been a cheerleader for all four years of high school.  Their parents never attended any of their games.  Not sure of the reason why.... were they too busy on the farm?  Her sister married her high school boyfriend; he was killed in a tractor mowing accident shortly afterwards.

All three siblings were affected by WWII.  My mother had two children to care for while my father was called back into the Navy to serve during the war.  Her brother, graduating from high school in 1940, received a deferment to help out on the farm but was called up to serve near the end of the war.  Her sister, after her first husband's death, remarried to an ambitious young GI returning from the war. 

It is great that my mother and her siblings are so mentally sharp.  They look back on what they view as pleasant childhoods.  All their neighbors were enduring the same conditions that they lived with.  Will we be able to enjoy such a gathering next year?

Think of the many changes in the past 100 years!  Not just no TV or internet... no electricity.

Postscript:   My mother died at age 104 1/2.  She always considered herself as a very fortunate girl from a farming background and still felt the presence of her husband and loved him until her death.    

Washington, DC, -- Azores-- Maine & Mass.

We have a new granddaughter in Washington, DC; it is time to plan a visit there.  And, as long as we are going that far, might as well make a trip out of it.  Dawn has been wanting to visit the Northeast: Cape Cod, Boston, Martha's Vineyard, the Maine coast.  I have been wanting to see more of the Azores islands; Boston is the gateway for flights from the US to Azores.  Thus, we have the outline for our next trip.

Washington is familiar; we visit about twice a year and I previously lived there for two years; that is not new territory.  We have an apartment rented there for a few days.  Then we fly to Boston where we pick up an overnight flight to Ponta Delgada, San Miguel island, Azores.  We have been to Ponta Delgada before; greatly enjoyed it and want to see more of the Azores now.  Thus, we take a connecting flight to Terceira island for a few days; fly onward to Flores island (only 4000 residents) for a several-day stay; then hop back to Ponta Delgada and connect homeward to visit Boston.

Only one airline, SATA, provides inter-island flights and those may only happen 3-4 days per week.  Azores Airlines provides the majority of flights to Azores.  TAP Airlines provides flights from Portugal.  Delta provides seasonal summer flights from the US.  Thus, this trip had to be planned around the flight schedule.  Due to changeable weather and other factors, Azores/SATA flights frequently run late.  Don't book close connections.

The last time we stopped in Boston, other than to change flights, was 1972.  At that time, Dawn & I had both quit our jobs in Oregon and were on a 3-month road trip.  We had stopped at Boston harbor where I interviewed a yacht designer about possibly becoming a naval architect.  Meanwhile, as Dawn toured the pier, she was invited to join the crew of a yacht headed for the Caribbean.  But we had our own adventure: we had been traveling up the East Coast from Florida, and from Boston we headed for Quebec- Montreal- Niagara Falls, then back west.

On our 1972 trip, we put up a pup tent in a Maine farmer's field for an overnight on our way to Quebec.  This coming trip, after spending a couple days near Boston, we stay in a nice B&B near Bath while exploring the Maine coast on day trips: then return south to visit Cape Cod before flying back to Denver.

Twenty days, eight flights, six accommodations; somewhat shorter than our previous trips, but there is always the next one as long as we stay healthy.  Our son suggested we next plan an around-the-world trip, but, after considering it, we decided that after a period of time the travel would seem more like a job than a vacation.



     

Copenhagen

Copenhagen seems to be a friendly city where everyone gets along and does their part.  The people living and working here come from all over.  But instead of separating into different communities, they work together and aspire to a similar lifestyle.  Of course, my sample size of people met is small but we get this sense of shared values in all encounters.  Newcomers are learning Danish and English in order to fit in.  We have been here before and walked the central city; on this trip we plan to visit two of the outlying attractions

Interesting building in central Copenhagen.

Arriving at CPH airport, we took the regional train to our hotel in the Kodbyen area.  Nearby are many good restaurants; good seafood, but many options are available.  You see very little obesity here; people walk or ride bikes to many destinations.  Dawn and I rented bicycles today and pedaled to the fishing village of Dragor. I was imagining riding along secluded country lanes to get there; but that was not how it worked out.  Instead, we were navigating through Copenhagen suburbs (a canal, train tracks, highways, construction zones) and around the edge of the airport.  Without the program 'maps.me' we would not have made it.

The pretty fishing village of Dragor.  Almost all buildings had yellow-colored wall with either tile roofs or a thatched roof, some of which are still being newly installed.  Cobblestone streets.  Spring, with the smell of lilacs and newly mowed grass, is in the air.  Temperatures still mainly in the 50's.

We ate lunch at an outdoor cafe overlooking the harbor.

Bicycling in Denmark is serious business.  We were given a short summary of bike traffic rules before heading out, and we needed them.  Coming back this afternoon, we started to encounter bicycle rush hour.  It was also walking rush hour, and driving rush hour.  These people ride bikes daily and keep a fast pace.  Try not to get embarrassed when a woman with her shopping basket or baby on board passes you by.  I do enjoy the challenge of finding the route from lines on my I-Pad screen.

 

When bicycling, do not get in the pedestrian lane or the vehicle lane.  Ride on the right side of the street.  If you want to turn left at an intersection, you proceed straight across the intersection, then stop your bicycle and wait for the signal to change before actually turning left unto your new street.

We took a train to Roskilde today.  A nice town with a big cathedral and pedestrian shopping area, but most notably, a Viking ship museum where new Viking ships are being built in a traditional manner.  Lots of history presented and you can even take a cruise of the bay in one of their authentic vessels.  You can walk from the train station to the Viking Museum.  First walk to the cathedral (look for the tall steeple) then continue in the same direction down the hill, past a park, until you reach the bay.

The Roskilde church is a UNESCO site as one of the earliest brick cathedrals.  A nice pedestrian shopping area is nearby.

The Viking ship museum and building site is very popular.  They were constantly taking people out in these boats, even raising their square sails when the wind was favorable.

Five Viking ships, almost 1000 years old, were carefully excavated from the bay and are now housed in a climate-controlled building.  Roskilde was once the most prominent town in Denmark.

At the workshop, they build replica Viking ships using the same materials, techniques and tools as originally used.  The largest present is about 100 feet long and has been sailed to Ireland and back.

I loved this boat building demonstration.  I am building a similar style 15' boat at home.  It was interesting to see that they use a similar sequence in fabricating the parts as I do.  I picked up some ideas that may be useful when planking/sheathing the hull begins. 

Copenhagen is a city of canals.  Hans Christian Andersen had a home on this street.

We had been here previously and had seen the attractions of the central city: the Little Mermaid, Tivoli Park, etc., but with sundown not until almost 10pm at this season, upon returning to the city in late afternoon, we did retrace a walking route through the city itself.  Copenhagen has extensive pedestrian-only street connections, plus many canals and regular streets.  You will always find a bike lane.