After spending almost all of May at home, I decided to do the opposite in June, with an epic trip that included a week of work and two weeks with family in Massachusetts. I was determined to see the 4th of July celebrations for the first time in – I think – at least 20 years, and to show the other half how my home town celebrates. And of course, it was a relatively significant year for the US…
So, months of planning turned into my flying into Boston on a Saturday from Chicago to spend two days with Mum before the other half arrived. Despite all efforts by thunderstorms to stall me, I had an easy trip over (though this would be my last good travel luck for some time), and the most shocking thing I had to deal with was the cost of groceries when I took my weekly trip to Stop and Shop.
For the football enthusiasts amongst you, I feel I should point out that we bought our plane tickets a week before the World Cup host cities were announced, and we missed the Scotland game in Boston by about a week. There was still plenty of evidence as to the Tartan Army’s presence, though.
The second shock was the closure of the Driftwood Restaurant, an absolute institution in Marblehead. For decades, the Driftwood had served the widest selection of breakfast foods imaginable to the sailors and families who would arrive as early as possible to get a seat. On a Saturday morning it was not uncommon for there to be a long line for a table, but everyone was happy to wait and chat amiably, knowing that it would soon be their turn for a table – anywhere they could fit you – with a red checked wipeable tablecloth and coffee, eggs, sausages, French toast, bacon, a myriad of pancake flavours, oatmeal and so much more. For me, it lives in my memory as a regular breakfast location for weekends spent with my Dad; we would get up early and trek five minutes down the road – once my recently-washed hair even froze at the ends as we walked. There were plenty of other divorced Dads and kids there, for better or worse, and we occasionally ran into classmates of mine. It was also the location of many ‘sneaky’ adventures with my friend, when we would scrape together enough change for a hot chocolate with whipped cream and marshmallows.
It was sad to see that those who had kept the place going were retiring, though considering they had been there as long as I could remember, it really isn’t surprising. Plus, it would appear as though it is only changing hands, and will open again under new management soon.
My first course of action whenever arriving home is always to take a long walk around town, trying to hit all of the favourite spots and note all of the changes – or lack thereof – that had taken place. As it was the height of summer, there was no shortage of beautiful gardens to enjoy with roses galore, and local wildlife in the form of beautiful red cardinals, hares, and of course ducks.
At least on this occasion, I knew that I had a solid two weeks to explore, so I tried my best not to overdo, and took a few less frequent routes through town. But I had to hit the traditional spots, including Fort Sewall Beach and passing this gorgeous garden hideaway.
Unlike later in the visit, in mid-June the streets were relatively quiet, the calm between the excitement of the 4th of July holiday and the World Cup in Boston.
Here are a few more Marblehead views – note in particular that you can just see the tent across the harbor in Fort Sewall that marked the start of holiday festivities.
A Sunday thunderstorm
One of the things I miss most when spending summers in Scotland is the dramatic thunderstorms of a hot summer day in New England. We get the occasional storm of course, but nothing nearly as regular as in Massachusetts. I LOVE watching thunderstorms – as long as I am not travelling of course – as I have mentioned once or twice before, and so on the Sunday before the other half arrived, I took myself out in the afternoon for a walk. It was clammy, with tension in the air, but the clouds looked far enough away that I would stay dry.
Looking for a high point from which to observe the (hopefully) distant storm, I headed for Old Burial Hill, one of the best places in Old Town Marblehead for a view, and one of the highest. Even as I passed Redd’s Pond, the sky had enough blue in it to be dramatic but not threatening.
I was particularly taken both by the gathering of ducks, and the almost glass-like water. I can never resist this view, one of the most picturesque in town.
I rounded the pond and climbed up the hill, where the views were even more stunning, but also a touch darker – I could hear distant thunder, coming I assumed from the Salem direction.
I watched the cloud on the right for some time, and it seemed to be moving across the sky, not getting any closer. So, I enjoyed the view for a while, took about 100 pictures of the clouds, and headed back down to Pond Street, then curved around back toward the entrance to the pond. This is when I started to realise that that the biggest dark cloud was, in fact, coming my way.
Well, I figured, it was quite warm, and any storm was unlikely to last long, but nonetheless I began to walk a bit faster back towards Mum’s house, about ten minutes away.
Two minutes later, the heavens opened.
I am not sure if New England just felt it needed to prove to this Scottish transplant that it too could rain, but did it ever – massive drops that pelted down, even finding their way through the branches of the ancient tree I hid under (there was no lightening currently). And, no sooner had I realised I was getting wet under the tree, than I also realised that this was not going to be a short shower. Rather than letting up, it got more intense, and in no time at all the streets were rivers.
I had no choice but to venture out from my ineffective shelter and head home.
By the time I walked in the door I was positively dripping, my formerly almost-dry braids soaked through.
I had such a good time!
Fortunately for the other half, who arrived the next day, we did not get another mid-day storm while we were there. We did get some spectacularly misty days though, with a Scottish-style haar (is it still a haar if not in Scotland?) draping over the harbors and hanging at the rooftop level.
A Whale Watch from Cape Anne
One of the first adventures we planned after the other half arrived and had a few days to adjust time-wise was a whale watch, something I had not done since grade school. We chose to leave from Gloucester rather than Boston as it was easily drivable – about 40 minutes – and we thought might be slightly less busy.
It was not less busy, but it was the right decision, as we were able to re-visit the lovely coastal town which is still an active fishing harbor. At about £70 for both of us for a trip of around four hours, we decided it was well worth the experience. So, we set off to arrive 45 minutes before the boat left, and ended up finding parking a bit further away than intended. The day was already warming up, and I was very happy to be heading out onto the water with our packed lunch and a fully-charged camera battery.
We were aggressive enough – though not unpleasantly so of course – to get a seat at the back corner of the boat, right on the edge, where we hoped to get a good view. The advice was that there was no ‘good’ side as the captain worked to get whales on both sides, and we were guaranteed to see them.
The boat was definitely close to full as we slowly pulled away from the dock and out into Gloucester Harbor. It was a relatively quiet morning, and we stayed at the slow harbor pace until we were well clear of the final breakwater. Then, to my delight, we picked up speed and powered out towards Stellwagen Bank, an underwater plateau at the mouth of Massachusetts Bay. It is known as one of the best whale watching destinations in the world due to its nutrient-rich waters, and the marine scientist who was our guide on the journey explained that they used knowledge of feeding patterns as well as other boats to learn where the whales were on a given day.
At first, it was fascinating just to watch the coastline slowly grow smaller and almost disappear, with nothing but wide blue ahead.
Then perhaps 40 minutes or so after leaving GLoucester, we got the word everyone was excited for – there were confirmed sightings of whales ahead. The boat slowed and we drifted slowly towards the first sightings of a group whales – just visible at the surface – circling the feeding ground. The distant skyline of Boston was JUST visible in the distance, and there were a few other boats milling around, everyone focussing on both trying to see and at the same time not disturb the small pod.
It was positively fascinating to watch them dive slowly and float. The marine biologist explained that whales will essentially sleep right at the surface so that they can breathe and rest, and we saw a mother and calf resting together for some time.
It was an absolutely perfect day to be on the water – calm with almost no wind, water that was calm with only gentle swells. We saw almost no sailboats while we were out – evidence of the lack of wind – and only a few fishermen and of course one other whale watching cruise, possibly from Boston. At no point did I need a sweater, just good sun screen and plenty of excitement – I had both.
After about an hour carefully following and viewing the whales, we turned for home, with the boat moving a bit faster and the wind of the movement finally cooling down everyone on deck.
I would love to have an opportunity to do this again, and highly recommend it to anyone visiting the area. I would also highly recommend Cape Ann Whale Watch, the company we used – the boat was clean and the staff were excellent, incredibly knowledgeable and so clearly incredibly caring for the animals we saw, desirous of educating and sharing them in an ethical way.
Swampscott and Salem
One thing we observed while driving north to Gloucester was that the air conditioning in Mum’s car was no longer cooling down. That wasn’t a big issue while the temperatures stayed in the low 80s, but a heat wave was coming around the start of July, with temperatures estimated in the high 90s – a fix was required. Unfortunately, quite a few other people were evidently experiencing a similar issue, and we ended up having to book into a relatively unknown garage further away than Mum’s usual mechanic. With luck, he was excellent, and said he would do what he could to sort it out, and if he couldn’t do so in an hour, it would take a lot more work. So the other half and I took a walk while he worked, strolling along Swampscott beach and enjoying the distant mist that still hung over the ocean and blew in over the beach.
We also enjoyed an excellent ice cream at a local spot – perfect for this type of walk, though it melted…hastily.
A few days later, we chose one of the last temperate days to head over to our favourite area in Salem: Pickering Wharf. There we walked out to the lighthouse, where there are views back over the old port and towards the House of Seven Gables. We considered wandering up through town to the Common, but as the morning passed the heat increased, and we chose instead just to find a spot for lunch. Fortunately, Pickering Wharf is full of places to eat, so we enjoyed a sandwich overlooking the boats.
Side note, one of these days I will write properly about Salem, which has an incredibly rich history both marine and witch-related.
Second side note, our adventure the next day included picking up a new air conditioner for Mum’s apartment, as well. In the newly cool car.
Evening walks and full moon
The increasing temperatures during the day meant that walking became unpleasant; this plus the prevalence of football games on TV (I’m not a massive fan, sacrilegious though that may be) meant that I developed a habit of going for a walk at about 8.30pm each evening. While the heat had generally not dissipated, the sun was gone so it was less intense, and the streets were much quieter.
The last day of June also happened to coincide with the full moon, so the other half and I trooped down to Crocker Park with my tripod to see what we could see.
I have always loved walking around Marblehead at dusk, with the light just starting to change. This evening was no disappointment, and as we were both well-sprayed with OFF! bug repellant, we spent a nice hour down by the water. We were far from the only ones there, as the park was full of other photographers and groups of teenagers and families down to go for an evening swim.
I was not disappointed, and the moon rose directly over the Neck. The last time I had stood in the same location for moonrise, it came up over Children’s Island, in November – fun to see the differences!
A day trip into Boston
While we had missed most of the excitement of the World Cup, we were determined to spend a few hours in the city experiencing a touch of the madness that had taken place when the Tartan Army invaded. I had, for weeks, been seeing videos and posts about the experience, and it make me inordinately happy that two places I loved so much had found one another and made a connection.
Of course we did not drive into the city – I am not a masochist – instead took the subway from Wonderland and alighted at Aquarium. I love to walk down Long Wharf past the Marriot and the Chart House, to the very end where you can see out into the harbor and across to the airport.
As would be expected in early July, the harbor was very busy with cruise boats, whale watches, sailboats of all sizes just barely not crashing into one another. We paused briefly before looping down the other side of the Wharf, enjoying the view over the moored yachts and the park.
I could not visit Boston without a walk through Quincy Market, so this was next, and fortunately just early enough in the day that the lunch rush had not yet started. I was desperate to track down some America 250 merch to have (for posterity) and yet it was hard to find, even in the tourist centre of Faneuil Hall.
What we did find as we turned right along Congress Street was of course the remnants of World Cup fever in Boston. This included the FIFA sign, a few statues still bearing their Glaswegian traffic cones, and a massive banner outside the Sam Adams taproom thanking the Scots for their time in Boston: “5 days, 100 kegs, 5,000 pints – Thanks, Scotland!”
(this collage includes evidence of the Scots in Marblehead, a cone next to a statue and a Saltire still bedecking a house).
I also love to walk up Union Street, which runs roughly parallel to Congress Street past some of the bars we used to go to when I visited home in college. We thought about having lunch at the Bell in Hand, one of the oldest bars in Boston where we had gone for drinks on many birthday nights out in the city, but the lack of air conditioning and busy dining room put us off slightly. We ended up going back to Quincy Market for lunch, and as it was growing hotter by the moment, not long after headed for home.
One brief stop I insisted we make was at the New England Holocaust Memorial, which stands in the park alongside Union Street. Designed to look like the smoke stacks of the camps, it has always moved me and felt an important addition to my Holocaust Memorial Museum visit earlier in the year.
It was a busy ten days, and I feel like I’ve bombarded you all with enough summery pictures for now. From the turn of June into July, the temperature rose to be 100℉/37℃ for several days in a row, and we kept our adventuring much closer to home, and the air conditioning. Plus, that was what we were there for – experiencing Marblehead and the Festival of Arts. Which will be in my next post.
One last collage – we had a fantastic evening bowling with friends and their sons at Sunnyside Bowl. Not only was this the location of more than a few birthday parties when we were young (and it really hasn’t changed) but it offered Candlepin bowling, a type of bowling that Google tells me is played mostly in New England and Canada. Essentially, the pins are smaller and so are the bowling balls, so perhaps easier for kids? Either way, they had Sam Adams and we were the only ones there for at least an hour. Does not get much better or more American than that.
The Wandering Medievalist 