National Seashore Walk Part 3

I realize that I call this a bi-weekly blog, and sadly, that has not really been the case. Last Sunday, instead of writing this, I decided that it would be fun to be violently ill instead. Basically, life gets in the way sometimes and mucks about with the best laid plans. Not that I'm one for well laid plans, honestly. My point, I think, is that I try my best to get this out twice a month, and I truly appreciate anyone who bothers to read it and finds it entertaining.

So, onward with our walk. It's a beautiful day today, but rather than go on this walk, I'll just write about it because unfortunately, the sickness that struck me last weekend is still hanging in and heavy physical exertion is not in my repertoire. We left off at the Love Tree (happy belated Valentines Day btw) and were headed up to the view of Nauset Outer Beach.

I only took one snow picture, apparently, though its all gone now. Snow doesn't tend to last on the Cape. We only had a handful of actual cold days before it was in the 50's again and a healthy dousing of rain melted it all away. But I digress...

These two benches overlook Nauset Beach, the inlet that separates ocean from the sheltered marsh, Orleans Cove, and Salt Pond. The wind is always blowing off the water, and you can just hear the waves on the distant beach. This is an amazing place to be during storms, though it is also a place you are NOT supposed to be during storms, for obvious reasons. Let's just pretend I've never been there when I shouldn't be...

I always stop here and just look for a while. It's at the top of a small hill, so it's a nice place to take a rest anyway. There is a large open field opposite the water (which I stood in to take the pictures) that is also beautiful, especially in the summer when it's full of wildflowers, but I forgot to take a picture of it. This time of year, when it's not covered in snow, its a wash of golden brown dead grass with little tufts of milkweed pods clinging in protected spots. When I was a child, I loved going on this walk when the milkweed was out and I could touch the soft cottony seed pods. We would gather the hard outer shells once they were empty and make Christmas ornaments and other artwork with them, My brother and I might have used them as weapons as well, but that's another story.

After taking a moment to enjoy the view of the ocean, the walk slopes downhill and past a little marsh. I saw a heron in it once and stood watching it for over half an hour. The trail curves back up into the woods and away from the water. Here's another little view of what the path looks like in the better places.

For the next ten or fifteen minutes, its just a quiet, winding trail through the woods. I rarely see anyone else on this part for some reason. I think it might be because most people get to the Nauset Beach view and turn back. And the people who start the walk on the other side tend to do the smaller circle within the larger one, cutting out the woodsy section that I enjoy. I probably love it so much because no one is ever there. Well, someone was, based on the footprints in the snow, but way less people than on the rest of the walk.

The walk bisects the bike path, which always strikes me as a little abrupt, After the quiet and complete woodiness of the past 15 minutes, the slab of pavement always makes me a sad. I cross over it and continue down toward the swamp, and the last little bit of the walk. The return to civilization becomes more evident as the trail crosses a paved service road. Just past the road, there is a choice to go left or right. If you were to follow instructions and read the trail map, it's not really a choice, it's just that I take the long way I'm looking at the middle of the smaller walk. The signs tell you to go left, but I always go right, down the hill into the marsh.

I honestly do not know it's real name, and rather than do the research and find out, I'll just tell you what I've always heard it called: the Blind Trail. The smaller trail goes from the visitor center building in a small loop that only takes about 15 or 20 minutes to do. The entire thing is lined by posts with a rope connecting them, When I was in school they would bring classes of children to this spot, blindfold them, and have them walk it holding onto the ropes, so we could experience what it's like to be blind. None of us took it seriously, we all tripped each other and giggled and peaked through the blindfolds, but I'm very glad my school tried to educate us like that. I doubt children are allowed to miss studying for MCAS long enough to walk in the woods, nowadays.

There are signs throughout the entire area giving the names of trees, but on the Blind Trail, there are informational plaques that talk about the history of the area. They are written in braille as well, seeing as it is the Blind Trail. They mention the Nauset Native Americans who used to live in the area, as well as the original settlers. I never read any of them as a child, but I've since started to take a moment to educate myself as I walk.

Sometimes, I'll close my eyes and hold the rope and see how far I can go without looking. Electrical tape is wrapped around the rope in places to mark where there are steps. Unfortunately, over time, some of the tape is gone, the rope has shifted, and erosion has caused the steps to move. It's a dangerous game to trust the tape.

The last little bit of the walk is a shallow pond that is completely filled with some kind of plant that I can no remember the name of. They are bright red in the summer then turn into sad brown sticks in the winter. Whatever they are, the plaques tell all about them and how there used to be a farm there. A bridge lets you walk out into it. During the summer, its so loud because of the gigantic bullfrogs that you can't even hear the highway, which is not very far away. There are always tons of red-wing black birds there as well, singing.

 

After the bridge, the trail climbs slowly up a hill back to the visitor center. And that is the walk. It took me 3 blog posts to get it all in there, and I could have gone on, honestly. I didn't even mention the side path that leads to Doane Rock. That's largely because I plan on doing a whole blog about Doane Rock, though I don't plan on walking to it from the National Seashore path. You can drive right up to it, which suits me just fine this time of year.

Thank you so much for walking with me.

National Seashore Walk Part 2

It's been a while since I wrote Part 1, but if you want a refresher, just scroll down and read that one first. I recently went for a walk the other day after work and got some actual winter-looking pictures. I'm going to end up mixing the ones I took a few weeks ago in, but at least some are more accurate for right now. I'll start with a contrast. These are pictures of Salt Pond taken only about two weeks apart, from close to the same spot.

There is a group of swans and ducks that live in the pond for the winter, and you can easily see them from the highway.

Anyway, so I left off last time crossing over the little bridge, leaving Salt Pond behind. The trail curves and you head up into the woods on a path with questionable wooden stairs scattered throughout in various stages of decay and angle. The picture I have is of the good ones. Some of them have eroded away. Some of them were just built into the ground and are basically glorified jumps. I love it, but this is not a trail for a wheelchair or someone who walks with a cane. It is wonderful to bring 4 to 12 year olds, because they can't resist the running and jumping and it tires them out wonderfully. It also provides the opportunity for skinned knees and filthiness, but those are good things in my opinion.

The next section through the woods is really my favorite part of the walk. It's quiet, and far enough from the highway that you can't hear it anymore. The trees in that section are particularly interesting. Most of the woods in the area are scrub pine, locust trees, lots of cedars, with some oak and cherry. There are tons of vines throughout this part of the walk that have made extremely interesting designs as they weave through the trees.

 One tree gains particular attention. Probably due to the way it grew into a natural seat, people were drawn to it. And they drew on it. Who knows who was the first person to carve their initials and their lovers' with a heart through them into the bark. This was way back before facebook when people had to revert to a knife and tree to share their relationship status with the world. I've always loved this tree. I love to sit on it and run my fingers over the carvings. I've always thought of it as the Love Tree, though I don't think it has an official name. It sits to the right of the path, with a little mini-path leading to it. If you aren't paying attention (looking down at your feet and listening to Pandora on your phone), you might miss it. Even if you were only a little distracted, you might not notice it as anything more than a weirdly shaped tree. If you are going to go for a walk in nature, leave the devices and technology behind so that you don't miss the beauty of the natural world around you.

I'm going to end on this note today, though we are still just shy of halfway through the walk. Just past the Love Tree is an amazing view of Nauset Beach, but you'll just have to read the next blog to see it. Another option is to read Catching Bodel, because Bodel and Zach go for this exact walk on Valentines Day (shameless self-promotion). I promise I won't make you wait long for the next blog entry, and it will be the final part of this walk. Hope you enjoyed the pictures and my quirky little commentary.

Staying Warm and Dry

I was going to continue along with the Salt Marsh Trail in Eastham that I started in my last post before the holidays, but the weather today made me change my mind. For those unaware, New England is being hit by a Nor'easter, a term that has always struck me as kind of funny. The typical accent New Englanders are known for, lacks the proper annunciation of R's, so how we should pronounce it more accurately would be No'th Easta. I read an article somewhere (can't remember where, so this is not fact, just my memory and opinion) that it was originally pronounced that way until those outside of New England got their hands on it and changed it to Nor'easter. Just a random thought for today. Any way you want to call it, its a storm with lots of rain/snow and wind.

The rain is blowing sideways today, and it hasn't stopped hammering down for hours now. It's gotten dark at this point, but the constant sound of it drumming against the house continues. My cats have been finding comfortable perches at the windows, trying to catch a peek at the less fortunate animals stuck outside. They are smug, I am convinced of this. And seeing as it's my day off and I did not have to go outside at all, I am too.

We have only lost power once today, and it didn't last more than ten seconds. I phrase it that way because losing power is a way of life on Cape Cod whenever there is a storm. Most of the trees on the lower cape are locust trees and scrub pine, with a smattering of blighted oaks and some other hardwoods. All of the trees have to grow in what is essentially sand, in fairly constant wind, so they don't get very big or tall. Due to the unstable ground, many trees blow over during strong winds. Locust trees are the worst in my opinion. They start out as these little thorn bushes, and grow into skinny tall trees that fall like dominoes without too much force. I happen to be allergic to their pollen and sap, so I doubly hate them, though they do look pretty when they are covered in string of little white flowers.

Because they are so fragile, fast growing, invasive, and horrible, they do a number on power lines. In recent years, the utility company has done an amazing job cutting back the trees for the sake of the power. There has been some opposition to their efforts, due to people obsessed with Cape Cod being "quaint", but in my opinion, I'd rather have a few less trees and not lose power for 3 days in the middle of the winter in a place too isolated to have big businesses with generators. But I digress...

Despite the efforts of the power company, we still lose power when it's windy. It's just something we expect. Don't be doing anything that requires power during a storm because it's likely to go out at any time, for variable amounts of time. The internet might come back with it, but that's another gamble. Hence I'm writing this on my laptop in case the power dies while I'm writing this.

Wind can be extremely problematic here. There isn't a lot of land, and the trees are not that big, and our buildings are small, so there isn't much here to slow the wind down. It cuts right through, in some places its only a few miles from ocean to bay. I'd want to take a video of what the wind is like at Campground Beach, but I'd be in danger of going blind and losing a few inches of skin because of the sand whipped up by the wind. Even in the summer, sometimes the wind will pick up enough sand to rub your skin raw and drive you behind umbrellas or off the beach entirely. When it's cold, its even worse. So no pictures or video for you, use your imagination.

I love rainy days like today, provided I get to stay inside and hibernate while it's happening. Most of the time I'm out and about, so days that I get to watch it outside while I'm warm and dry inside are even more wonderful. I've moved a few times today... gotten a few chores done around the house, made food, took down the Christmas decorations. Whenever I sit for more than thirty seconds, I end up with a cat on me. I notice it more this time of year, because it's colder and the cats want to cuddle again.

I did a bit of rambling today, but my goal is to tell people what it's like to live on Cape Cod, year round. And in the winter, that means we get horrible wind storms that knock out power, and it only makes the news if nothing horrible happened in Boston recently. We were out of power for an entire week once, not due to a "Nor'easter" but just a freak wind storm that only hit the cape. No one knew about it. Thousands of people, many elderly, were without power, and many of our roads were impassible because of fallen trees, but not a word about it on the news. In the summer, if there is so much as a stuff breeze coming toward the Cape, everyone cares and it's news again. I prefer the winter, when no one notices us, but I also prefer it when we have power. Stay warm and dry, people.

Happy New Year

I haven't written anything in a long time. No excuses. No explanations. Merely stating a fact. As this year comes to a close, it gives me a chance to refocus and make sure I make time for the important things.

I've recently come to terms with certain aspects of my life. I'm embracing myself, and following my heart instead of constantly trying to make other people happy. It's not easy. I've spent 30 years being agreeable and doing what is expected of me based on who I'm with. I feel like I'm 3 people. I'm trying to stop and just be myself. To actually be the person I am, and not what I'm expected to be.

I'm an introvert. My New Year's plans are to stay home, with my husband, and play ARK. This is a perfect evening for me. I don't want to walk crowded streets or shout over music at a party. I like my quiet little life. I want people to understand that I can love them, but not want to be with them all the time. I like my space and my privacy. I like being alone for hours, days. It comforts me. I give so much of myself when I'm face to face with those I love, that sometimes, a lot of the time, I don't want to see anyone so that I have a few pieces of myself left for me. Some of the people in my life understand this, but many do not.

I want to start 2016 fresh, as one person, acting true to my nature, all the time. This is not going to be easy to do. I am a natural caregiver, which is why I enjoy it as a career, but I need to learn to draw lines and make sure I care for myself. Sometimes, I do need to come first. I need to take time for myself and do the things that make me happy. So I'll be writing more. I'll get the blog done every other week, and maybe every week if a special idea strikes me. Becoming Grace Divine is going into its last editing phase now, and should be released by Memorial Day. I'll be running around shouting about Catching Bodel and having sales and events and such to fill the coming cold winter days. But mostly, I'll be home, enjoying being myself.

National Seashore Walk Part 1

One of my favorite places on the lower cape to walk is in Eastham at the National Seashore Visitor Center. I've honestly never been inside the visitor center itself, but it's where the walk starts. There's a large parking lot and this time of year, its beautifully empty. There main trail is the Nauset Marsh Trail. It starts out bordering Salt Pond (which is visible from RT 6) and circles around through the marsh and up back to the visitor center. There is an offshoot of that trail that leads to Doane Rock, something I'll write about in another post.

There is a large outdoor amphitheater right below the visitor center itself. I've never seen anything happen at it, or heard of any events or anything, but that doesn't mean nothing happens there. It's likely I'm just too busy in the summer to notice. I remember walking along the benches as a child, jumping from row to row to avoid touching the ground until we reached the entrance to the walk.

My mother would take my brother and I on this walk often when we were kids. We'd bring my dog Shiva, who couldn't read the 'no dogs allowed' sign, and no one ever noticed or said a word. Mind you, you can't bring a dog during the summer, but during the offseason, you can manage it without an issue. I don't own a dog at the moment, and my cats are content to sit in the sun or sleep on my couches, so it's unlikely I'll be dragging them out with me anytime soon.

The first part of the walk is truly beautiful as it curls around Salt Pond. There used to be a bridge over a particularly marshy spot, but it was destroyed during one of the many winter storms. Salt Pond snakes out and ends up connected to the inlet at Nauset Outer Beach, so storm surge makes its way into the pond and does some reshaping every winter. Two years ago, we lost the bridge. Well, it wasn't lost, it was just moved to an inopportune place and at an angle that was no longer particularly useful for walking on. (That is one of my engagement photos)

They replaced the old bridge with a new one that is designed to be more mobile than the old version. From the look of it, it's supposed to be able to lift up with tides and its chained to posts to keep it from drifting away. And seeing as it's smaller, it has less surface area to be bent and twisted and abused. And if it does wrench away, it's cheaper and easier to replace. Good luck to you, little bridge, this winter season...

Here is the view around Salt Pond. There are going to be a lot of photos in these posts because I just don't have the right words to describe it.

The path circles half of the pond before pulling away a little. It curves sharply and goes up into the woods, before that happens, you have to cross another bridge. This bridge has survived the winters without incident so far. If you search images of Cape Cod, you're bound to find a few of it. It's kind of overkill for the little river is crosses, but I love it.

I think I'm going to have to break this walk into two or three posts, because there are so many great places to stop along the way. This seems like a good place to stop for now, which is ironic because it only take out 5 minutes to walk to this point.

Just looking at the pictures makes me think of the sharp smell of the salt marsh, which is drastically different from a fresh water marsh. I can hear the wind, which is always blowing on the cape, as it rushes through the grass. The birds are always having conversations as you walk by, especially if you're quiet about it. There is a fun mix of birds in the area, and I'm sorry to say I don't actually know enough about birds to explain. There are marsh birds like red-winged black birds, which hang out next to black-backed gulls and terns. Long-legged great blue heron poke their way along the shallows, or stand like regal statues.

There are raccoon, millions of squirrels and chipmunks, deer, possum, fox, and many other creatures that call the protected area their home. If you walk quietly or sit still, you can get lucky and see many of them. The trail is a great place to stop and just be for a while. It's only a few minutes away from the highway and the rest of the busy world, but it's just far enough removed to be peaceful. I'll take you farther down the trail next time...

Fall

It has occurred to me that if I highlight a place on Cape Cod every entry, I'm likely to run out of places. My little sandbar isn't that large, and honestly, as an introvert, I don't like a lot of things. I'm content to explore through reading books and watching movies. Not that I am opposed to traveling, I just don't have a drive to do so.

Outside of New England, I've been to St. Martin, France, Ohio, Canada, Florida, North Carolina, Arizona, and Colorado. So needless to say my experience of the world, even my own country, is limited. But that's never really bothered me. Maybe because I live in a beautiful place, but I think it's more that I have a vivid imagination and I allow myself to become totally lost in books and movies.

That being said, it's interesting to be a stay-at-home introvert and live on a place that is populated largely by visitors for three months of the year. Most of the people I interact with are people who enjoy seeing new places or traveling. It makes me sad how many people seem to be miserable while on vacation. I haven't really been on a vacation is years, life hasn't allowed for a stretch of time off. And being how I am, my ideal vacation is staying at my house for a week. Going anywhere involving an airplane, rental car, luggage, hotel rooms, etc, just sounds like a lot of work. Not to say it's not wonderful, but its not a vacation to me if its that much work. The most strenuous vacation I'd enjoy is driving to Vermont, New Hampshire, or Maine to camp for a few days in the woods and sit by a fire in a place where there is no shower. That sounds wonderful to me.

So when I wait on tourists at the restaurant, or get stuck in lines with them, or any other interaction, it strikes me that so many of them seem viciously unhappy. I'm generalizing, mind you. Many tourists are wonderful happy people who are kind to the people serving them and courteous to the locals. Unfortunately, the vast majority are not like that. I've been treated so poorly by other human beings while waiting tables during tourist season that it shakes my faith in the goodness of humanity. I've watched other servers break down crying while someone screams in their face. Apparently, having a slightly overcooked burger is cause for this kind of behavior. I'm not prone to crying, no matter how nasty someone is to me. I worked on fishing boats as an observer for 2 years in a dangerous profession, surrounded by strangers all the time who weren't happy I was there. It takes a lot to intimidate me, and in all my years working in the service industry, I've only cried once. It's tempting to publicly shame the vicious man who was shouting at me and calling me stupid when I was the only server trying to take care of about 65 people, but I won't. He's just lucky I kept the cooks from taking revenge for me. Always be courteous to the people who handle your food...

People on vacation sometimes get this air of entitlement that is very hard to tolerate. It's as though the moment they leave their home, they become the center of the world. Everything has to be exactly as they like it and no one else even exists. I've seen countless people come into a restaurant during the busy summer season and start literally shouting at a host or hostess because they have to wait 45 minutes to an hour to sit down. Do they not see the 40 other people already waiting and that all of the tables are full? And they always demand to know where else they can go where they won't have to wait. I'm tempted to tell them to go home, but I restrain myself. Cape Cod in the summer is absolutely overflowing with more people than it can really hold, so there is a wait EVERYWHERE.

Our roads are not designed for the amount of traffic, so it's going to take hours to get anywhere. We have one highway that goes through the lower Cape. Through parts of Wellfleet and Truro there is literally ONE ROAD that goes through. There are no back roads. People don't really grasp what that means until there is a car accident and they close the highway for hours and there is literally no way to get out of or into P-town, Truro, or Wellfleet. There is not enough parking, and nowhere to add more. Every restaurant is going to be full of people. On the lower Cape, we have 2 large grocery stores that serve five towns, from Orleans to P-town. If you've ever looked at a map of Cape Cod,(like the one below) you'd notice how much space that really is. So the Stop and Shop is going to be mobbed and there are going to be lines and it's going to be hard to move. That's just the way it is. And while I realize it's annoying to the tourists, take a moment to think of how it feels for the locals who are just trying to get to work or get groceries after working a 10 hour day.

This blog has been somewhat of a rant. I hope it's not depressing or a downer. But I want to express what it's like to really live on Cape Cod, and it's not all sandy beaches and nice restaurants. It's a hard place to live, with few work opportunities outside of the service and labor industry, and many of those are seasonal, Beauty has a price.

I want to counter this rant with a bit of positive. I try and be a balanced person. While summer tourists have a tendency to be cruel, fall tourists are amazing. I've met the nicest happiest people in September and October. They tend to be retirees, or couples without children, so there is usually no rush. They like to chat with staff and will sit and enjoy their bottle of wine. It's still decently busy but no longer insane. I can make a left on the highway again. There might be a wait at a restaurant on a Friday or Sat, but no longer than 20 minutes for a large party. It's true that the water is cold and it's not really beach season anymore. It's also a reality that half of the summer restaurants close on Labor Day, and another quarter close on Columbus Day. There are 2 restaurants that stay open in Eastham year-round. That's it. We are not a place of variety in the winter.

Fall is wonderful here. My hours at work get cut back, and I have some time to actually go to the beach. I can start going for walks again. And the people I do interact with are so much happier. They tell me about where they are from, their lives, and they listen to my story as well. I wish summer was more like fall. I don't know why people need to rush, push and shove, yell, and demand. All of that behavior just makes things worse and slows things down further. I guess it's just human nature to be that way. So I'll be a fall person. Take my time, be kind to others, listen, and walk on the beach alone.

Rock Harbor

It's October now, and starting to feel like fall. As a fall and winter lover, I'm ecstatic, but I realize most people miss the summer. So I'm going to write about 4th of July at Rock Harbor to bring back a little summer for everyone. Before I start that, a quick promotion: Catching Bodel, my first novel, is on sale on Amazon for $0.99 today! Get an ebook while the getting is good <3

Ok, back to July. Rock Harbor is in Orleans, on the bay side of the Cape. It's a quiet place with small boats due to the shallowness of the channel. There are sad-looking pine trees marking safe passage for the incoming and outgoing boats. 

I have spent most of my 4th of July's there. Well, not actually the 4th, because Orleans doesn't have fireworks on the 4th. Provincetown has the fireworks on the actual holiday, and the other towns don't double up to avoid competing. So it's truer to say that I've spent most 2nd's, 3rd's, and 5th's at Rock Harbor.

We developed a system over the years to perfect our fireworks experience. My father is a mason, and has an F350 dump truck. In the morning, we drive the truck to the parking lot to get the best space and leave it there for the day with the staging in the back and a cooler of provisions locked in the cab. As it get's dark, we throw bikes into the other truck and drive to park at Snow's, which is about a mile walk from Rock Harbor. We ride the bikes in through the droves of cars and people struggling to get to the harbor. We set up the staging on the bed of the truck and invite friends and family to find their own way to join us. 

The entire parking lot fills with people. Vendors set up shop selling fried food, hot dogs, burgers, cotton candy, ice cream, etc. People pushing carts full of light up toys wander back and forth through the crowd. When I was a kid it was the simple snap them and they glow necklaces. Now there are light up swords that play music and other crazy things. My honorary niece and nephew, Alex and Abby, (my best friends children) joined us this year and it was so much fun to watch them reenact my childhood.

All of the locals find their way down there and congregate. I have a very large family and we know a lot of people, and everyone recognizes the truck with the staging, because we are the only ones crazy enough to do it. So we spend the hours before sunset talking to old friends. As soon as it gets dark, we climb up into the truck and start vying for the best perches on the staging. My Dad get's the best seat on the top level. When I was a kid I always got to be with him, but now I have to adult and I jostle for a good position like everyone else. I ended up on the second level this year, with Alex. (Bearded man behind me is Dad <3)

The fireworks are shot out over the water from the beach. The show is always wonderful, and the colorful members of my family put on quite a show as well with loud "ooh's and aaahh's". We are never quiet, and travel in packs (my father is one of 6 brothers). Like many large families, we collect people who become 'family' whether they like it or not. We end up with quite the congregation around the big white truck with the brick design.

No matter how old I get, I'll always love the fireworks. Rock Harbor will always be fireworks in my eyes. I drive by it every day to get to work, and it makes me smile every time. I stopped in the other day and took a few pictures, because September on the Cape is amazing.

I realize this post has a ton of pictures, but sometimes, pictures wrap around words or words wrap around pictures and it makes everything that much better. I love this place not only for what it is, but for all of the memories I have there, and memories I look forward to making with my own kids someday. So I hope this made you think of your own 4th of July traditions and celebrations and made you feel warm and happy, and reminded you to try and retain your sense of childish wonder at the world.