FFA--FARM ADVENTURES

 FARM ADVENTURES
Tours Provide on-the-Road Learning Experiences
Today was labeled as a driving day, since we covered the whole state of Indiana from north to south, and Rick even agreed to a 7:45 a.m. start which allowed us an extra 15 minutes this morning.

Testing our balance and physical strength,
Andy and Sue join the teens on the Jumping Bean.

 But Fair Oaks Farms, in Fair Oaks, Indiana, provided four hours of entertainment and adventure.  The 19,000 acres of farmland are surrounded by woods and streams that act as vegetative filter strips to protect the farmland and the animals.

After hours on the bus, kids find a
way to expend that pent-up energy.

The Dairy Adventure started with activities for young children in the Welcome Center. Our teenagers loved the cow carousel ride, the bucket slide and the coloring stations that encouraged visitors to do rubbings of farm scenes.  I did the tractor scene and the barn scene.  Andy and Tara tried the ball maze.At the Birthing Barn, two cows gave birth behind glass panels in a theater-type auditorium.  One labored; the other gently washed her new baby bull calf, nudging him with her nose to stand up.  He almost made it up on wobbly legs when we left on the Moo Bus.
The behind-the-scenes bus ride took us past barns with 36,500 cows, almost all Holsteins, and through the center of South Farm, a free-stall dairy cow barn that was completed in February of 2000.  We learned that an average dairy cow consumes 17 tons of feed a year.  That's about 100 pounds of feed per day, along with 30 gallons of water."You can tell if a cow is comfortable if it chews its cud.  That's the food that is regurgitated after chewing and swallowing it the first time," explained the tour guide.

At the Dairy Adventure, Tri-Valley FFA members ride a cow.

The cows, most of them lying in stalls, looked relaxed and comfortable on their beds of sand.  "Sand is inorganic and it molds to the body shape," said the bus guide. "That means it does not encourage the growth of bacteria, and it makes a comfortable bed fort the cow," he explained. The sand beds are cleaned three times a day.  Inside the milking carousel, we watched the cows file in for the eight-minute ritual.  They are milked three times a day, 72 animals at each milking, and produce 250,000 gallons of milk a day from Fair Oaks Dairy.

Older piglets roam around the feed barn.

A Dairy Jumping Pillow gave the teenagers some outdoor energy-burn.  Shoes off, Andy and I joined the whole Tri Valley crew of pillow jumpers.
"It's harder than it looks," said Andy.
"It's a real workout," said Tara.
I just laughed, as kids around me knocked me off my feet by jumping.

A sow contentedly nurses her piglets

By 10:55 a.m. we boarded a bus for the Pig Adventure, a co-op of farms that produce 80,000 pigs a year.  By educating the public and maintaining a commitment to protect the environment, Fair Oaks exemplifies modern farming.  After our initial pretend shower in front of screens of bubbles, we took the self-guided tour.  At the Growing Barn we saw hundreds of pigs in their first six months of life.  This barn features the carefully cared for pigs growing from four week-old piglets to more than 600-pound ladies who will soon become mothers themselves.
In the Farrowing Barn we watched sows give birth to litters of piglets right before our eyes.  "They give the sows aspirin to relieve some of the pain," said Andy, when we caught up to him.
In the Gestation Barn, exhibits explained about modern day pregnancy practices like ultra sound  I became the proud farmer of four piglets. Animals of all sizes ate, played and slept in the pens below us.  An Electronic Sow Feeder (ESF) allows all animals to get an equal share of food.
The adventure ended at the café and gift shop, where most of the teenagers succumbed to the temptations of ice cream advertising.  What better way to end an adventure at a dairy!  To thank our sponsors, we gathered at the Fair Oaks Farms entry sign for a group photo.  Then it was on to Louisville.

FFA Competition Challenges Teens
Staying outside of Louisville, about 10 miles from the Convention Center with six groups of kids competing and presenting at different times creates logistical problems. Add in two bus drivers on computer-controlled time limitations, who both need to take groups on outside excursions, and you have a nightmare of timing.  As a consequence, we departed the motel at 6:30 a.m. to be dropped at the Kentucky Exhibition Center (KEC) so the bus drivers could return to the motel for the group tour. 
Andy immediately headed to the shuttle for downtown Louisville with the New York State winner of the Job Interview competition.  Her national competition started at 8:00 a.m.

As the first place New York team,
Maura, Grace and Dorothy practice
their marketing presentation in the
Galt House Hotel lobby
before national competition.

I hung out with groups until 11:00 a.m. and then headed downtown to the Galt House Hotel and Suites with the three girls on the New York State winning Marketing Team.
Our photograph at 4:00 p.m. and Orientation Session at 5:00 p.m. gave us lots of time to relax in comfort and practice the 15-minute presentation for tomorrow morning.  In addition, we talked about potential questions for the follow-up.

With horse blanket props
for the marketing pitch,
Dorothy, Grace and Maura
are ready to compete.

It was only the start of three days of non-stop action that included seven National FFA Sessions in the Convention Hall, lots of browsing around the hundreds of booths advertising products, services, agricultural opportunities and agricultural colleges.  Passion, Persistence and Pride. It was the opening day of the 87th National FFA Convention. Today was a day of Purpose.

FFA advisors Will from Delaware
and Tara from New York pause in the
midst of constant activity and action.

Tara, the National Teacher of the Year (2014) for Career and Technical Education, shuttled her kids back and forth to their competitions and cheered them on stage in front of the 63,000 people.As the largest student organization in the world, the Future Farmers of America, a sea of blue jackets in the darkened convention hall, inspires kids to achieve, grow educationally and care about others. Andy and I were inspired, as well.  It was absolutely AWE-some.

FFA--LEARNING AT THE MUSEUM

LEARNING AT THE MUSEUM
Museums Appeal to All Ages
The five Great Lakes hold a fifth of the world's drinking water.  We learned that today from Chuck, the bus driver, as we headed along Lake Shore Drive near Lake Michigan.
Trip organizer Rick had scheduled a day at the museum--the Museum of Science and Industry, Chicago.

After a brief lesson,
Andy tries his hands...
and feet on the Segway.

We were early.  Traffic wasn't quite as bad as we had anticipated.  But arriving at the group entrance well before the 9:20 a.m. opening didn't get us into the Great Hall early.  The museum had neglected our Coal Mine Tour, already paid, and then argued about printing specific tickets with given times for the 110 of us.  We won, but it took half an hour.  That was perfect--exactly enough time for my sister Jean, my brother-in-law Jim, and Mom to maneuver through the much-more-serious traffic jams north of the city to meet us for a day at the museum.
Activities and exhibits kept us very busy from ten to four.
In Transportation we all tried the Segway.  Tara, already an experienced rider, Segway-ed circles around the pillars.  The rest of us quickly mastered the lean to move forward and the stand straight to stop.
"I told you I always thought a Segway was practical for going to school!" said Tara.

Andy takes Grandma K
for a speed ride around
the museum.

Other exhibits involved the Zephyr train that caused the streamlining of many appliances from the 1950's.
Cadavers sliced into cross sections and mounted between sheets of glass showed the internal human body.
The weather and physics wing had a wave tank that illustrated the impacts of a tsunami and a thirty-foot vortex to show how whirlwinds and tornadoes behave.

Tara checks up on her
students via email from
the astronomy wing of
the museum.

The genetics displays had live mice of different colors sleeping in plastic balls and baby chicks just pecking their way out of the eggs.
And every exhibit featured hands-on show areas and learning activities for all ages. 
Jean, Jim, Andy, Tara, Grandma Helen and I meandered among the displays--reading, pushing buttons, listening and experimenting at whatever interested us.  Every so often we caught up with groups of students from Tri Valley Central School and other schools that are part of our Schoharie Valley FFA Tour.  Tara moved in and out, checking up on the kids and returning to visit with us.The highlight of our day was a trip into the coal mine, the first and for a time the only exhibit at the museum.  The remains of an actual working mine, the Museum Coal Mine still has coal on a wall and actual mining equipment from 1893 and later.  That was the year the museum was built to celebrate the 400th anniversary of Columbus' discovery of America.  It opened a year late.

Grandma K experiments
with the coal loader in one
of the railroad exhibits.

Tara, Jean, Andy, Grandma K, Sue and Jim appropriately
gather in front of the John Deere tractor at Chicago's
Museum of Science and Industry.

Clinging precariously to
the climbing wall, Andy
makes his way to the top.

                                
                                 
        Our tour guide demonstrated the explosion of methane and showed us a canary cage used to check for the presence of gases.  Grandma Helen even walked up the four flights of stairs at the start of the tour and maneuvered over the slightly uneven terrain inside the mine.  Pretty good for a 96 and a half-year old.  She was particularly interested in the pictures of the original miners, some of whom came back as tour guides many years later. Originally their pay had been 17 cents a day.  They could earn as much as 75 cents a day, but it was based on the weight of the coal they had mined. I wondered how that compared to their pay as tour guides, but no records remained.
It was a quick good-bye, but Jean and Jim had commitments, and traffic north multiplied after 3 p.m.  We boarded the buses as ordered and pulled out early just before 3:45 p.m. It had been an exceptional day of looking and learning.  I texted Jean to thank my family for coming.  It was a day of loving as well.
An hour at CaBela's Sporting Goods store gave the kids a chance to unwind and shop.  We chaperones all know from experience that for teenagers too much motel time is never a good thing.

FFA--A BIRD'S EYE VIEW

A BIRD'S EYE VIEW
FFA Travels by Bus to Chicago
Today started early. "Be on the bus, luggage loaded and ready to pull out by 7:30 a.m.," ordered Rick last night.  Everyone knows Rick doesn't joke around.  That's the way to run a trip for 110 people.  We pulled out at 7:31 a.m. headed west.

Two big Brown buses are home away
from home for the week.

What to do when a big Brown bus pulls into a toll plaza on an interstate and the gate stays down!  The bus ahead of us waited.  Patiently in line behind him, we waited too.   No attendant. Our driver mused, "Maybe Indiana won't recognize New York Easy-Pass, but it's supposed to."
"No," Andy reminded him, "We went through the plaza on the Ohio-Indiana line without any trouble."
The lead driver climbed out of his bus and waved his hands at the gate.  It didn't work.  Then he walked over to the little toll house.  No attendant.  He got back in the bus.  We could see him pick up the radio.  A couple moments later, the gate went up.
"Just tell them to charge you again," paged Chuck on our bus radio, pulling up right behind the lead bus.  But before we could pass under the raised gate, it dropped.

Chuck figures out how to
maneuver through the tolls.

"OK," said Chuck, "We'll see if it is fixed now."  He inched right up to the gate.  It stayed down. 
"You have to beep the main building from the little red blinking light," blasted the radio.  It was the lead driver giving directions.
"I'm too far past it," replied Chuck.
"Back up!" came the radio order.
"Can't!" said Chuck.  A semi tractor-trailer had pulled in right behind us.

From the bus on I-55 we can pick out the Willis Tower.

                    Chuck got out of the bus, waved at the gate and checked the toll booth.  "There's no one in there," he stated, more to himself as he climbed back in and removed the Easy-Pass box from the window.  When he scanned in the number by hand from the blinking box, the gate went up.  That poor semi driver had to wait for us to remount the Easy-Pass box, settle in and adjust all the mirrors and restart the bus.
"I guess the camera wasn't set right," mumbled Chuck, as we caught up to the other bus which waited on the side of the road.  From that point on, we held our collective breaths at each toll plaza.

With the golden dome of the old administration building in the
background, members of Tri-Valley FFA pose at Notre Dame.

The first building of Notre Dame still
stands near the center of the campus.

A couple-hour stop in South Bend, Indiana gave us time to walk the main campus at Notre Dame.  "We need to refuel the buses," explained Rick, "and it's a good, safe, fun place to stop."
After the obligatory introductory movie about the history of the school, we had time to visit the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, the Grotto, the first Notre Dame building, St. Mary's Lake, Hammes Bookstore, Morris Inn and Eck Visitor Center.

In the late afternoon sun Chicago looks
beautiful from on high.

It couldn't have been a more gorgeous day to be walking along manicured quads lined with changing hardwoods.  The squirrels gathered winter stores as a brilliant sun glinted off the statue of Mary that capped the golden dome of the old administration building.

Standing on the glass extension
panels of the Sky Deck,
we can see down 103
floors below us.

Then it was on to Chicago.
At 4 p.m. we disembarked at the Willis Tower downtown, checked in through security, and took two elevators to the Sky Deck. Gorgeous weather attracted hundreds of visitors.  As we gazed out all the different glass panels, people took turns looking at the 360-degree pictures of the city.  They spoke to each other in Spanish, German, French and Indian.  It was a United Nations of interest and politeness.


From the street the Willis Tower
reaches heavenward.

With a bird's eye view of the entire city beneath our feet, we indeed had a panoramic picture of Chicago.  I held my breath and stepped out onto the glass panel overhanging the 103rd floor. The world was beneath, and it was quite literally breathtaking!   I could only gasp!

Andy reassures three Tri-Valley FFA members that this glass
isn't going to crack beneath them.

FFA--A DIFFERENT KIND OF TRAVEL

A DIFFERENT KIND OF TRAVEL
FFA Nationals 2014
Going places by coach bus has its own advantages, as well as its own unique challenges. In the past two years, Andy and I have officially chaperoned four high school trips.  Initially I didn't count them as "retirement travels," but we've covered hundreds of miles and seen a lot of territory, especially in New York state.

Waiting for the 3 a.m. school bus at Tri Valley Central School
in Grahamsville, New York, FFA members on the Food Science
team practice in the Ag room for national competition.

So this morning deservedly begins another blog account.  Advantages include not having to drive and enjoying limited cost, but we sacrifice all freedom as chaperones for 15 teenagers on a coach bus with 45 teenagers going on a trip with two sold-out bus loads to a convention with as many as 60,000 kids.
"How are you doin'?" asked Emily, climbing back on Bus 107 at the first rest stop. "Did you sleep?"
"I snoozed a little," I told her.  "How about you?"
"Well, it's better than the school bus," she responded, looking rather bleary-eyed.
We had worked at school until 3 a.m. Then from 3 a.m. to 5 a.m. we traveled by school bus from Grahamsville, New York to Greenville, New York to meet two Brown coach buses for a circuitous trip to Louisville, Kentucky via Chicago for the annual FFA National Convention.

The roof greening trays remind me of
ground cover in an Arctic climate.

After pick-ups in Schoharie at Dunkin' Donuts and at the toll plaza, we headed through Syracuse in daylight, across the north end of the Finger Lakes.  As the sun climbed, clouds parted to show patches of blue.  Fields spread far in every direction--expanses of dried stalks of corn, waving feathery yellow elephant grass, brilliant green stretches of spring wheat, fallow patches of plowed earth, and trees in shades of yellow, orange and red. This is most of New York... rich agriculture open space instead of big city urban sprawl.
Batavia Turf is one of three businesses owned and managed by our tour guide Craig.  He explained that diversity is one of the primary marketing and management ploys to effective business practices.  When the turf cycle of an 18-month production season for sod declines, onion production, roof garden palettes and heifer feed lot services take up the financial slack.
We walked across some of the 300 acres of turf to the 12 soccer fields owned privately by Craig and his partners but managed publically by the town of Batavia. "Our name is on these fields," explained Craig.  "We won't have anything but excellence when it comes to the quality of the turf.  We care for it, and the town rents from us. Both parties benefit.  That's good business."

Craig, partner and production manager of Batavia Turf,
 shakes hands with trip leader Rick as students from nine New
York schools admire the turf of the12 Batavia soccer fields.

Craig also explained his partnership with a company in France that installs roof greening trays for environmental benefit of growing ground cover on the roofs of buildings.
In an hour we were back on the road toward Cleveland.  By the time we reached Pennsylvania, the skies cleared and the wind picked up.
A few major differences stand out on a trip like this one. First, I appreciate how tremendously much planning goes into travel.  But Andy only drives about 150 miles a day maximum, and he usually wends his way leisurely along back roads.  Because the main point of travel by bus is destination, we keep moving on the FFA excursions. Our stops are brief--maybe ten minutes.  We cross whole states at a time, and we drive on interstates. Whether it's the tinted windows, the distractions of so many other people, the nondescript route along the interstates, or the steady speed of a super highway, I'm much less aware of the terrain outside and the surrounding countryside.  With speed on the bus controlled by a "governor," our driver maintained a consistent and steady 65 m.p.h. (maximum 55 m.p.h. in a school bus), even when the speed limit was higher.  Andy doesn't drive a whole lot faster than that in Little Red, but since we cover so much less distance in a give time, it doesn't feel like we are driving forever.

TRIP #5, 2014--Travel Complete

Travel Complete: That Was That
When we loaded the car this morning around 9:00 a.m., the predicted rain was only a drizzle in North Dartmouth, Massachusetts.  It didn't take many miles though before it poured.  Then it never let up.
Andy had planned to stop in Providence.  "This is our 47th state to re-visit," he said, as we crossed the state line, but he never stopped.  Neither did the rain.
We didn't do Rhode Island justice, but traffic was backed up for miles the other direction going into New London, Connecticut.  I had suggested a visit to Foxwoods or Mohegan Sun.
"Why?" asked Andy.  "This weather is miserable, and we don't gamble."

Safely tucked in our garage, "Little Red" Saturn continues
to serve us well after nearly 20 years.

That was enough of a message.  Our trip was over, and we were headed home-- no detours, no deviations--3,162 miles in 28 days.  But after a month of beautiful weather on the road, I had no complaints and no reason to press for additional driving.

Back in Connecticut, the sun breaks
through as the day ends, showing a
kaleidoscope of color in our
back yard.

Connecticut needed the rain and that was that.

Travel Complete:
One Little Red Saturn
Five trips,
47 states,
45,564 miles.

TRIP #5, 2014--New Bedford

New Bedford: A Whale of a City
"I feel very sorry for people who plan a three-day weekend starting tomorrow," said Andy, "because rain is predicted and today is spectacular."

Tide is coming in as we
follow Nauset Marsh Trail.

He was right.  At 9:00 a.m., when we parked at the National Park Visitor Center by Nauset Marsh Trail, we didn't need jackets.  We followed the 1.3-mile trail around the marsh dressed in shirt sleeves. Granted we both had long sleeves, but it was still unseasonably warm for a mid-October morning.  "They haven't had a frost yet," said Andy, as we passed a patch of lilies of the valley.  "I doubt it's even gotten as low as 40 degrees here."A week ago we had taken the trail on the other side of Nauset Marsh when we missed the turn.  "Part of this side was closed in the summer," said Andy, "because the footbridge had washed out."  I stayed on the new bridge and looked out over the salt water inlet.  A gorgeous Cape Cod house perched on the hill across the estuary where a great blue heron hunted for breakfast.  "If that house ever goes on the market, the Park Service would be crazy not to buy it," said Andy.  "It's an in-holding."
"Too bad," I told him, "because I'd like it."  I didn't feel like rushing.  It was too pretty to end.

Flat-bottomed marsh boats move salt
hay from the marsh in the 1800's.

We spent a half hour along the trail, enjoying the bright sun and temperatures in the 60's.  Near the Visitor Center was a display outdoors.  Under a solid roof in the open air was a Workboat of the 1850's.  Wide and flat-bottomed, the hay barge was rowed, poled and sailed through shallow marshes to gather salt marsh hay for livestock bedding and feed.  People could tell because it made the resulting milk salty.  This particular boat was used for 60 years as a repair vessel by the French Transatlantic Cable Company of Town Cove.  It is the last remaining hay barge on Cape Cod and perhaps in New England.
Along Route #64 we drove leisurely through mid-Cape and upper-Cape.  Brewster, Dennis, Yarmouth, Barnstable... all of them are beautiful towns. 
There was a crafts fair in West Dennis.  With tents already erected, the crafters were just setting up.

Autumn splashed colors everywhere in the salt marshes.

Andy was not in a purchasing mood, and the carvings were pricey.  Instead, we walked to the adjoining park with the Higgins Farm Windmill and the 1795 Harris-Black House.  It is thought to be the last remaining primitive one-room house on Cape Cod.
In Sandwich we stopped got a look at the estuary.  The gorgeous reds along the marsh had caught my eye.  Beautiful, brilliant, deep red...  It was all poison ivy.  "Up in Maine, the leaves are probably down," said Andy.  "It's past peak there."  But here the trees were just turning, and fall painted splashes of brilliance everywhere.  All the little towns had huge displays of pumpkins, corn stalks and mums in yellow, rust, orange, gold and purple.

The windmill adds a beautiful backdrop
for the local craft fair.

We stopped at one of the pullouts for viewing the Cape Cod Canal.  Below us on both sides bike paths paralleled the water.  A boat passed by, sending white rivulets of waves behind it.  "Cape Cod is actually an island," said Andy.
"Yes, apparently," I agreed, "but only because the canal makes it so."
Woods Hole is the largest private oceanographic research facility in the world.  It is dedicated to the study of marine science and to the education of marine scientists--a world center for marine, biomedical and environmental sciences. A little town has grown up in the vicinity.  We stopped for coffee and Danish at Pie in the Sky bakery and put enough change in the meter to browse in a couple shops and a few galleries.  Since browsing for Andy means walk in and walk out, it only cost one extra quarter.
"There's another lighthouse here," announced Andy, when we stopped in the Visitor Center at Woods Hole.  "I didn't know about this one."

Nobska Lighthouse at Woods Hole is operated by the Coast Guard.

It was easy to follow the map to the point. There the Nobska Lighthouse, built in 1828, flashes every six seconds.  The light is visible 17 miles out to sea.  The current tower, 42 feet high, was constructed in 1876 to replace a stone house with a light on the top.  A red section visible on the east side of the lantern house warns ships away from Hedge Fence and L'Hommedieu Shoals south of the Cape.
Route #28 took us down to the water, but a convenient wrong turn followed Oyster Pond Road to Surf Drive.  "This is exactly what I wanted," I told him.  "Now we can stop and collect shells and driftwood."  It really wasn't what he wanted to hear, but with time to spare and a free beachfront parking lot, he acquiesced.  I gathered a plastic bag of snail shells, and Andy found a huge board of driftwood.  "It wasn't exactly what I had in mind," I told him.

Lost lobster pods provide
decoration at a local coffee shop.

"But this is REAL driftwood, and I'll split it in little pieces for you," he answered.
"Perfect."
And then we were back on the road.
Traffic in and around Buzzards Bay was absolutely horrendous.
It could be the upcoming holiday weekend, but we were on the Boston-bound leg and clouds were already moving in with the promised Saturday rain.  It could have been going-home-from-work traffic, but it was only 2:30 p.m.  When we crossed the bridge, the line-up was just as bad going the other way.  "The traffic is too much for the rotary to handle," commented Andy, "and Massachusetts is one of the few states to use rotaries instead of traffic lights."
New Bedford is beyond cool!  The WHALE Association acquired and preserved 32 old buildings downtown, where all the streets are cobblestone or brick.  The concept wasn't to drive out the fishing industry but to preserve the working town so it actually looked like it did in its 1850's heyday when the city of New Bedford "lit the world."
We parked at a meter and walked around town.  The Visitor Center showed a film called The City That Lit the World about New Bedford.  We rated a private showing in the theater.  We learned that at its peak New Bedford sent out 500 ships with 20,000 sailors to catch and kill 300,000 whales. The primary prize was sperm whale for its valuable oil.  Later baleen was also used for the stays in corsets, because it was tough and bendable.
In 1850 Herman Melville in Moby Dick wrote, "For many years past the whale-ship has been the pioneer in ferreting out the remotest and least known parts of the world."  Chapters 2 through 13 vividly describe the New Bedford landscape.

New Bedford preserved is cobblestone streets and gracious,
noble homes and offices that reflect life in 1850.

We browsed in a gift shop and then headed along cobblestone and brick streets to the wharf.  Today the boats in the harbor are mostly commercial fishing vessels--primarily draggers and scallopers like the Christine Julie and the Emma Nicole.  By the 1930's, fishermen in this region began to drag the Atlantic for scallops and flounder.  They were immigrants from Norway and Portugal joining local fishermen and others from Maine, Newfoundland and Nova Scotia.  Whales had been slaughtered to near extinction and petroleum had been found an effective alternative to whale oil.
But in the heyday of whaling, New Bedford ruled.  Today it is still the number one fishing port in the country in terms of the dollar value of its catch.

Fishing boats line the wharves of New Bedford, Massachusetts.

The waterfront wharf was a place of preparation for sea:  carpenters building vessels from white oak timbers; caulkers hammering oakum, hemp mixed with tar; coopers shaving staves for casks to hold whale oil; packers preparing hard tack for food at sea; sail riggers crawling about the masts to tar, hoist and fasten; painters working on vessels afloat and in dry-dock; specialized craftsmen repairing the tryworks where blubber was melted into oil.  A typical New Bedford whaler made six voyages in its lifetime and each voyage lasted typically two to four years.

Scallopers and draggers ply the waters of the North Atlantic.

The worldwide reach of the New Bedford whaling fleet created a diverse population, a feature of the city that extends into the current day. In Moby Dick, Melville depicted this community of many races and ethnic backgrounds.
In 1857, ninety-five ships and barks left the wharves of New Bedford on whaling voyages. The industry had reached its peak, and half of all the worldwide whaling was conducted from the New Bedford customs districts.  Before petroleum was discovered in 1859, whaling was the nation's fifth most valuable industry. Nothing cast a brighter light than sperm whale oil.  That is where the term candle-power came from.  Nothing lubricated high-speed or delicate machinery better.  Whaling agents were among the richest people in the U.S., and New Bedford was the nation's richest city in 1861.

A mural at the wharf
celebrates the beauty
of seafaring.

We walked up the cobblestones away from the wharf, admiring the architecture of old New Bedford preserved.  "That's the Custom House," said Andy, pointing to a Greek-style building on the corner of North Second and William Street.  Built in 1826, it was a stop for many seamen in the mid-1800's.  It is the oldest continuously operating custom house in the U.S. Captains seeking to clear their ships and cargo through customs and seamen wishing to take out protection papers walked up the granite stairs to transact their business with custom agents.

A chapel for seamen, the
Seaman's Bethel serves
as a moral compass.

Further uphill was the Seaman's Bethel.  The street was really quiet in the late afternoon.  After months at sea, many were unable to resist the temptations of the port. In 1832, the New Bedford Port Society for the Moral Improvement of Seamen opened the mariners' chapel "to protect the interests of seamen and furnish them with... moral, intellectual and religious instruction."  It was meant to protect them from liquor, licentiousness and dishonest merchants.  A survey in 1852, found 37 liquor shops and 21 houses of ill repute in this ward alone.  Herman Melville visited the Seaman's Bethel before shipping out on the whale ship Acushnet in 1841.  Ten years later in Moby Dick, he described the cenotaphs of the chapel, markers on the wall for those who lost their lives at sea.
The Seaman's Bethel is the Whaleman's Chapel of Moby Dick.
"In the same New Bedford there stands a whaleman's chapel and few are the moody fishermen shortly bound for the Indian or Pacific Oceans who failed to make a Sunday visit to this spot."


Andy meets Moby Dick outside the Whaling Museum.

Conveniently, next door to the Seaman's Bethel is the Mariners' Home.  For whaling men, the ship was essentially their home. In New Bedford the poor, unskilled sailors were basically homeless until the next voyage.In 1850, the daughter of William Rotch, Jr., one of New Bedford's leading whaling merchants, donated her father's house to shelter and feed needy seamen.

The Mariners' Home assists needy
sailors, sea merchants and fishermen.

After the whaling industry declined, retired whalemen, merchant seamen and fishermen lived here.
To this day, the Mariners' Home provides lodging for mariners.  "How cool is that!" I said to Andy.  "The city that lit the world" by slaughtering 300,000 whales has the foresight to light the lives of those who need help.

TRIP #5, 2014--Challenges Overcome!

Challenges Overcome!
Someone upstairs likes us.  I mean, REALLY likes us.  Sun streamed in the motel window and a light breeze ruffled the curtains.  Andy opened the door.  "I'm going to check the weather," he announced.  He didn't need to check or announce.  The windows had been open all night, and it wasn't even cold.  I took a deep breath of fresh air.  God's in his Heaven.  All's right with the world, I thought.  October 9, and it was another summer-like day with the colors of fall.

A mile or more trek in the sand to Race Point Lighthouse
is a challenging way to start the morning on Cape Cod.

The Pilgrims actually landed here first.  They stayed about five weeks before sailing on to Plymouth.  But before they left, they loaded up on fresh water and helped themselves to Indian stores of grain.  Even though they stayed here only five weeks, it was at Provincetown that they drafted and signed the Mayflower Compact.
Ironically, many years later the townspeople here felt slighted because they didn't get enough recognition for the landing site.  That's why they built the Pilgrim Monument, a tower people could see from far off and remember.  Built in 1910, the monument is the tallest all-granite structure in the United States.
"You get six miles credit for that one," said Andy when we got back to the car at 11:45 a.m.  We had parked Little Red in a sand-covered lot around 9:30 a.m.  "This is the closest we are going to get to Race Point Lighthouse in the car," said Andy.  "We walk from here, but it's a whole lot closer than following the beach all the way around."
We set out along the sand road about 9:30 a.m.  It was tough going, plodding in the tire tracks of four-wheel drive vehicles over the soft dunes.  "I wonder how four-wheel drive vehicles make some of these rises," said Andy.  Someone had walked before us in the space between the tire tracks. "It should be softer there because it isn't packed down," said Andy.  I tried it.  It wasn't much different.

Race Point Light commands a prominent view on the
tip of Cape Cod.

In spots a little moisture packed down a few-feet section; then we were back on loose slopes.  The road twisted between dunes that were dotted with beachgrass clumps and wild rose bushes.  Brilliant red rose hips and scarlet poison ivy added touches of color to the dessert landscape.It took us an hour of difficult trudging to do the 1.5 miles out to the Race Point Lighthouse.  Sea gulls had left tracks in the damp sand.  We passed the lighthouse, built in 1816 and reconstructed in 1876.  "They don't have to worry about this one being washed away," said Andy.  This is the part of the Cape that is growing.  From the water's edge we could look across the Atlantic to Dorchester Heights in Boston.  "That's probably 30 miles away," said Andy.  It was that clear.

Waves crash around us at
the beach on Race Point.

We walked around Race Point.  The tide was still coming in.  Piping plovers swooped over us, headed in a small group over the water and circled back.  Andy found a wash-up that looked like a huge lobster pod.  When he tried to pick it up, he knew immediately it was an anchor from a lost boat.  Ten minutes later when we came back, the waves had tipped it over.
One section of beach had a collection of shells.  I thought, oh good, time to collect!  But on closer examination we decided they were snails that had attached themselves and their shells to stones.  "That's so the sea gulls can't get them," added Andy.  Ingenious!  He picked one up and a fiddler crab scurried away from under it.
It took us another 50 minutes to walk back to the car.  Getting credit for six miles didn't make it any less exhausting.  It's a good thing Andy planned this one for morning, but I wouldn't have wanted to miss it.
We drove to Herring Cove Beach and parked for lunch.  The tide was turning at 12:33.  Waves crashed and washed up close to the parking area.  They came so fast and high there was hardly time between them.  "I think I've read that it gets more rough just before the tide turns, but it's really windy here so that could be the reason," said Andy.

A school of tiny fish swarm along the
breakwater in Provincetown Harbor.

"Next we're going out to that lighthouse," said Andy, pointing to a speck in the distance.  It was Wood End Light, guarding the entrance to Provincetown Harbor.  Built in 1873, this light is now solar powered.  It is only accessible by breakwater.  "I was waiting for high tide to pass," said Andy.  "I didn't want to walk out and then get caught on the other side."
What he didn't count on was the low spots in the breakwater.  We parked at the rotary and headed to the breakwater.  Several people fished from the granite boulders.

Already a couple hundred feet out on the breakwater, we
come to a depression in the rock about an hour after high tide.

"You won't make it," said a couple coming back.  "There's a low spot, and it's too deep to jump."
"Forget it," said another man.  "I was afraid I might get swept away because it is running so fast."
Sure enough.  Fifty feet beyond, some of the rocks had collapsed.  Receding water from the bay rushed over them six inches deep, heading out to the ocean.  It was way too wide to jump and way too slippery to reach the steeply slanted granite on the other side.  We sat down and waited half an hour for the tide to lower.
When it lowered enough to uncover a rock or two, Andy took my hand and helped me across.  He didn't let go for the next half hour until we had safely cleared all the boulders and made it out to the arm of land where Wood End is situated.  It was enough to help me balance and really keep me moving.
Every few rocks of the breakwater were covered with broken shells where seagulls had stopped for clam dinner.  Every so often I noticed a crab claw that some seagull had missed.  In a few spots where the water just barely sloshed the surface, seaweed clung to the rock face or had been left on the flat top.

I wait patiently on the rock of the
breakwater as the water level goes down.

We picked our way over four more low spots with water rushing right beneath us, and then hopped rock to rock to reach the wet sand of the arm of Cape Cod.
No definitive path led to the lighthouse.  Most likely it is only visited by a few brave or crazy souls, and the central area was still covered by several inches of water from an ocean inlet.  We jumped from soggy seaweed patch to soggy seaweed patch to navigate our way to the Atlantic beach front and see the Wood End Lighthouse close up.

The seagulls act as if it is an imposition
for them to move as we head back.

Unlike others, it wasn't too impressive.  Set back from the water, it was surrounded by wild rose bushes and poison ivy... lots of poison ivy, mostly small low-growing plants with brilliant scarlet leaves.  We were up close and personal going back since we missed any path to the breakwater and foraged our way across the whole arm to the bay side.  We will only hope that wearing long pants and socks, stepping around the small low-growing plants, and showering thoroughly with soap will prevent any residual effects.
As we walked along the beach on the ocean side, we found another lobster buoy.  That makes five--all different--so Andy will have an interesting craft project for the winter.  That and his plan to reproduce the formal gardens of John Adams's house in our backyard will give him plenty to do.

Few visitors make it across the breakwater to see the Wood
End Lighthouse close up.

It was 3:30 p.m. by the time we headed back over the breakwater.  The sun sank lower behind us as we crossed the half mile of boulders.  Gulls sat on the rocks ahead of us and only left one by one as we stepped one rock away.  Black and white ducks bobbed in the water below us, and many more rocks on the breakwater were covered with broken and crushed shells.  It must have been early Thanksgiving dinner for somebody... or a lot of somebodies.


When we head back to the mainland, a sand bar appears near
the breakwater as the tide goes out in the late afternoon.

We moved faster going back, even with Andy holding me and the buoy.  It would have taken me hours without his hand for support; I was already tired.
But tide made the big difference.  With the water now five or six feet lower and the rock surfaces now dry, we couldn't identify the low spots of our trek out from two-and-a-half hours earlier.Our last excursion of the day was out to the Life Saving Station, where rescuers checked day and night for boats lost at sea or in imminent danger.  The U.S. Lifesaving Service performed rescues off the Outer Cape from 13 stations built to house the surfmen and their rescue equipment and to provide temporary shelter for rescued shipwreck victims.  Old Harbor was built in 1897, and later used by the Coast Guard until it was decommissioned in 1949.  This structure, originally located in Chatham where it was threatened by erosion, was floated by barge in 1977 to Provincetown Harbor.  There it weathered the infamous "Storm of '78" on Race Point.  Significantly rehabilitated in 2009, it is now being furnished as it looked in 1900.

Old Harbor, the U.S. Life Saving Station, houses a museum
dedicated to those who rescued others in danger at sea.

The tours ended at 4:00 p.m., so we missed the timing, but the view of the beach was beautiful in the late afternoon sun.  If our day of challenges had been less strenuous, I could easily have stayed and walked along the water for more than ten minutes.
Instead, dinner beckoned.  It was Thirsty Thursday at Guapo's Tortilla Shack.  We headed back to the bar.   "I love to see people come back," said Steve, the floor manager, "especially since you try something different every time."  By now he knew us by name.
Waitress and bar tender Katie greeted us for the third night and introduced us to Andrew, our sever.  "You're the travelers," said owner Donna, joining Andrew in conversation.  "I've heard a lot about you!"
"Uh, Oh!" we joked in unison and then chatted with the congenial owner and staff.
Later I told Andy, "It's a good that there isn't a Guapo's Tortilla Shack in Trumbull.  I'd be way too comfortable!"
He laughed; he totally agreed.
We sat back and took the last bites of our scrumptious Mexican chiruzos dessert.  Dipping my sugared donut stick in the sauce of honey and chocolate, I thought, this is the life!   What a delicious reward for challenges overcome.