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.