Five Days in Boston

Bob's View:

Courses: 

1) Plymouth to Hingham, Massachusetts; 42 miles (S)
2) Hingham Shipyard to Constitution Marina, Boston Massachusetts; 14 miles (S)

Seas:
1) misty in the AM and breezy, 10-20 knots SW from the starboard aft quarter, in the PM from Plymouth to Hingham; seas 2-4 feet
2) early morning calm and bright sun under fair weather Cumulus clouds while making our gentle way into Boston; seas less than 1 foot

Engine Hours: 300.1

Miles (since departure from South Portland June 15): 1,665.8 (S); 1,456 (N); (6,000 feet (N) = 5,280 (S))

A Schooner under sail outside Boston Harbor

We have transited the exposed southeast coast of Massachussetts Bay to arrive at the inner harbor in Boston.  Resting, socializing and restocking here for 5 days, VELOMER is safely secured to a floating dock at Constitution Marina in Charlestown, Massachusetts in the shadow of USS CONSTITUTION, the restored American naval frigate from the war of 1812 with the British naval  forces of the Napoleonic era.  The current ship's company (active duty navy) fires a gun at dawn (really around 8 as this is a civilized town) and again at sundown to mark these occasions in naval life aboard.  As PM and I have been at sea now for almost 100 days (we return to Spring Point Marina in South Portland on the 100'th day-imagine our evolved perspective having been so long at sea), we have adjusted our internal clocks to the sun. Often we have no idea what day of the week it is nor do we care.

It is day when the sun is up and evening when the sun begins to set and night when the moon and stars are in the sky.  Our ship's bell marks each passing 1/2 hour with a clear tone as neither of us wears a watch aboard. Beginning at 8 AM, the bell strikes 8 bells, than one bell at 8:30, two bells at 9 and so on till noon when the process begins again.  This time keeping method developed for shipboard life to mark the passage of a watch at sea, generally 4 hours, although the dog watch from 2-4 AM was curtailed, the other watches were changed every 4 hours.  For common sailors, "before the mast jacks", this was the time frame they were called to duty, sleeping, eating, mending and socializing only in their off hours, a rough life.  Combined with the grog, rum mixed with lemon water they were issued each day, shipboard life was a dangerous time. Many more were injured or killed in shipboard accidents than in battles.

Thursday's run north and west into Boston Harbor was a somewhat rocky passage along the coast from Plymouth to Hingham, Massachusetts.  We had thoughts of stopping in Scituate but as this was only a few sea miles from Plymouth and enjoying a good weather window to make Boston Harbor, we continued to Hingham, where we found a surprisingly well run marina located next to a mall with fresh coffee and a movie theater.  After spending all summer essentially out of the loop regarding news and entertainment, it was a treat to have lunch at a burger joint, enjoy a cold draft beer and see a Sandra Bullock movie, The Heat.  PM and I may need a few more days to adjust to a land based life after this summer's cruise, we decided after this somewhat disconnected experience in Hingham.  We also had cable TV on board for the first time in over a month so a local Boston news channel filled us in on world events.  It seems we have not missed much of anything, its the same news as when we last checked.

We departed the Hingham Shipyard Marina, Hingham, Massachusetts last Friday and after a brief 2 1/2 hour passage through outer Boston Harbor, made landfall at Constitution marina, where we had enloyed two days stay in June.  Other that the fast ferry that swept by us at 20 knots, we had no incidents making port here, unlike the last time we entered Boston on a Saturday afternoon last June.  The difference was a lack of traffic this time, although I noted that the majority of other crafts are still captained by Bostonians, who drive their boats similarly to the way they drive their cars, with little reference to the rules of the road.

Since Friday afternoon, we have been social, connecting with PM's sister and brother in law, Bob and Alice Roemer, a high school friend, Joyce Stevens, who lives in the North End of Boston within a 10 minute walk from the marina, and who took us to a fabulous Italian Restaurant, Carmalina's on Hanover Street in the  in Little Italy, Rand and Sally Peabody, our friends of many years, who live in the Boston suburb of Medford, and restocking wine and chocolate stores on VELOMER.  Reconnecting with long term friends and family has been a joy.  And we have been touristy, walking the Freedom Trail, visiting the Museum of Science and the Dead Sea Scroll Exhibit, and just meandering streets and exploring parks feeling like newbees at this urban experience.  Boat life and land life are as oil and water.

There has been but one small dark cloud over VELOMER's adventure and that has been not seeing those whom we love and adore, as PM would say it.  For me it has been a surprise that our friends and family did not find time and space in their lives to join us this summer, except for Sam Merrell, whose presence was a treat travelling to Newburgh, New York on the Hudson River over July 4'th weekend to experience eye candy and competence and twenty somethings grouping each other at the bar off off our bow, and again coming south from Croton-on-Hudson to Jersey City, New Jersey ( note its in New Jersey, PM) in September with Li, his amazingly accomplished artist daughter.  They all have their busy engaged lives ashore, I know, but what a unique and entertaining time PM and I have had afloat over the past three months and it grieves me not to have had some days to share a portion of our adventures this year with them. Perhaps next season will be different when schedules and/or life circumstances will align more smoothly to allow a voyage together with friend and family.

This down time at this really convenient to Boston and reasonable ($3.00/foot) Constitution Marina has been an ideal location.  We changed the oil and filters, both the oil filter for the engine and Racor 10 micron fuel filter for the diesel, for the third time this summer as we have logged 300 hours on the engine.  Routine maintenance of keeping the heads running smoothly, refilling water tanks, doing laundry, shopping for stores, topping up the batteries, cleaning the mustache off the bow, cleaning the isinglass on the flybridge, keeping the interior shipshape and exterior clean of spider poop, and generally supporting the activities of daily living on a boat have been done without much thought as these daily, weekly and monthly chores have become just ( like it Sam?) part of our life aboard.  I am hopeful we will continue to enjoy pleasant weather at sea as we have all summer.  Amazing that we have really had no time when we could not cruise when and where we wished. Only on a single day did it rain so hard that travel would have been less than comfortable but we were at a mooring at Burton Island State Park that day anyway.  We have had some few hours underway with wind and seas that made us hunker down a bit but braced into a comfortable position on the fly bridge, wearing our PFDs, we have been able to safely make our daily mileage in relative ease.  We have two days of cruising on Wednesday and Thursday this week prior to our return to Spring Point Marina, where we will dock until weather and temperature force us to avail again of our friends for a warm bed.  I am estimating we will be able to stay aboard for just another 5-6 weeks, so heads up Greenleafs and Guyots.

Our plans include a condo rental this November, December and perhaps January for as long as the g-kids, Phoebe and Erik are in Maine before we return to Colorado for another winter of skiing and playing with Annika and Trygvy as often as their parents will allow.  One unfulfilled activity this summer has been biking. We have used our bikes when it was opportune however infrequently that has been.  A 22 mile ride to Willsboro Bay from Essex, a 30 mile ride into Burlington from Champlain Marina, a 40 mile ride to Rome from Utica and a few more miles in and around Croton-on-Hudson have been our only opportunities. Colorado will, I anticipate, afford us many miles of trails and road to alleviate this unmet need.

While here in Boston, our  critical food and personal supplies have been refilled, and our appetites have been royally stimulated by meals with Joyce, Bob and Alice and Rand and Sally.  A visit to a convenient Whole Foods Market today will complete our stores of fresh fruit and veggies for the two day passage to Maine starting tomorrow at 7 AM.  Our course to Portsmouth, and landfall at Wentworth Marina, will be along day with a calculated 52 sea miles(N).  One more long day in South Portland of 42 sea miles(N) will be our final course of VELOMER's adventure for the 2013 season on Thursday.  Today will be spent doing laundry and waiting for our departure to Logan to briefly see Phoebe and her family, whom we have missed painfully this summer.

As we have ventured in and around New England waters and along the pathways of history in the Hudson River Valley this summer and now Fall, we have been steeped in the battles, the fortifications, critical moments, geography and monuments of American life that occurred almost 250 years ago.  Two days ago, PM and I walked the Freedom Trail, which brick marked pathway through the back streets of Boston's North End links the local history of the Revolutionary War as it had its beginning events in the Boston Tea Party, the meetings in small taverns, many of which still exist, the residences of Sam Adams, John Hancock and Paul Revere (and their final resting places in the Granary Burial Ground).  Walking on the streets where these rebels planned a revolution, I am reminded that much of what we have learned in grade and middle school is nothing less than male revisionist Eurocentric history.  I leave it to PM , my well educated anthropological and always questioning spouse these many years, to expound on some of the inaccuracies and edited historical versions of our past in her musings contained in prior postings.  History is always written and often rewritten by the survivors and poets.

---

Paul Revere's Ride

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

---

Listen my children and you shall hear Of the midnight ride of Paul Revere, On the eighteenth of April, in Seventy-five; Hardly a man is now alive Who remembers that famous day and year.He said to his friend, "If the British march By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lantern aloft in the belfry arch Of the North Church tower as a signal light,-- One if by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, Ready to ride and spread the alarm Through every Middlesex village and farm, For the country folk to be up and to arm." Then he said "Good-night!" and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, Just as the moon rose over the bay, Where swinging wide at her moorings lay The Somerset, British man-of-war; A phantom ship, with each mast and spar Across the moon like a prison bar, And a huge black hulk, that was magnified By its own reflection in the tide. Meanwhile, his friend through alley and street Wanders and watches, with eager ears, Till in the silence around him he hears The muster of men at the barrack door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers, Marching down to their boats on the shore. Then he climbed the tower of the Old North Church, By the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry chamber overhead, And startled the pigeons from their perch On the sombre rafters, that round him made Masses and moving shapes of shade,-- By the trembling ladder, steep and tall, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town And the moonlight flowing over all. Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night-wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, "All is well!" A moment only he feels the spell Of the place and the hour, and the secret dread Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughts are bent On a shadowy something far away, Where the river widens to meet the bay,-- A line of black that bends and floats On the rising tide like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere. Now he patted his horse's side, Now he gazed at the landscape far and near, Then, impetuous, stamped the earth, And turned and tightened his saddle girth; But mostly he watched with eager search The belfry tower of the Old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, Lonely and spectral and sombre and still. And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height A glimmer, and then a gleam of light! He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns, But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight A second lamp in the belfry burns. A hurry of hoofs in a village street, A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark, And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet; That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light, The fate of a nation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat. He has left the village and mounted the steep, And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep, Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides; And under the alders that skirt its edge, Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge, Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides. It was twelve by the village clock When he crossed the bridge into Medford town. He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmer's dog, And felt the damp of the river fog, That rises after the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he galloped into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting-house windows, black and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock, When he came to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the flock, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And felt the breath of the morning breeze Blowing over the meadow brown. And one was safe and asleep in his bed Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Who that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket ball. You know the rest. In the books you have read How the British Regulars fired and fled,--- How the farmers gave them ball for ball, > From behind each fence and farmyard wall, Chasing the redcoats down the lane, Then crossing the fields to emerge again Under the trees at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the night rode Paul Revere; And so through the night went his cry of alarm To every Middlesex village and farm,--- A cry of defiance, and not of fear, A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word that shall echo for evermore! For, borne on the night-wind of the Past, Through all our history, to the last, In the hour of darkness and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed, And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

(reprinted by permission)

Life continues to be very very good on VELOMER.

PM's Perspective:  Urban Once Again

As much as I have enjoyed the peace and tranquility of upstate rural New York and Vermont, the return to the urban environment of Boston re-energizes me.  I must admit that I find New York City a bit overwhelming and difficult to wrap my head around, so I didn't get my urban fix there.  Not so Boston.  This is the perfect city for me -- other than Paris, of course.  Just the right size to figure out without too much difficulty, lovely user-friendly parks and other public spaces, a unique juxtaposition of the historic with the new, museums, public art, restaurants to suit any tastes, very walkable, and always something to do.  The view from Velomer includes TD Garden/North Station and the Leonard Zakim Bunker Hill Bridge.  What more could I ask for?

View from Velomer

The North End, where every block has at least one restaurant, is a short walk across the Charlestown Bridge from the Constitution Marina. The Museum of Science is a lovely stroll away through the Paul Revere Park that extends under the Zakim Bridge and along the north bank of the Charles River.  Our days are full of visiting with friends and family, playing tourist, and getting ready for the next leg of our journey.

Our primary tourist activities include walking the Freedom Trail and visiting the Museum of Science.  Boston really has its act together with the Freedom Trail neatly laid out on the sidewalk -- just follow the red brick road to hit the high points of historic Boston.  Anchored by the information booth at the Boston Commons at the southwest terminus and the Bunker Hill Monument at the northeast, the trail zigzags through the city passing such highlights as Quincy Market, Fanueil Hall, King's Chapel and Cemetery, Paul Revere's home, the Old North Church, Old South Meeting House, Old Granary Burial Ground, the old city hall (now a Ruth Christie Steak House), and the tavern where the Boston Tea Party reportedly was planned.  While at the King's Chapel Cemetery we had a fascinating conversation with the guide on grave robbing for bodies for medical purposes.  While walking along the trail by Fanueil Hall, we were entertained by street performers doing spinal chord damaging break dancing that just amazed the gathering crowd.  How do they do that?

The Museum of Science exhibit on the Dead Sea Scrolls and planetarium show entitled Moons kept us enthralled as did the permanent exhibit.  I remember bringing Phoebe and Phil to the museum many years ago when they were still in elementary school and how interesting it was then.  The museum still captures our attention.  We are looking forward to bringing our grandchildren here at some point.  Speaking of which, the dears arrive this evening and Bob and I are going to the airport to visit them just briefly before they ride to Maine with Mary Longley who is braving crazy Boston traffic.  We can hardly contain ourselves!

And we found a really good chocolate store where dark chocolate rules: Coconuts, 28 Pamenter Street, North End, Boston, 857-263-7768, they will mail anywhere, including Colorado.

So its now off for a walk then North Station and the MTA to the airport.  Life is good!