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Standing atop the highest point in Cuttyhunk, I looked down past the oyster ponds to the beaches of the West End at a stone tower perched alone on an arm of the island.
With a little investigation, I learned that this stone tower was the Cuttyhunk Monument, dedicated to the island’s founder, Bartholomew Gosnold.
In 1602, Gosnold sailed toward the Americas with the intent to set up a new colony and trading post. After brief stops in Maine and Provincetown, he then landed on Elizabeth’s Isle, known today as the island of Cuttyhunk.
Gosnold, a lawyer, traveled in high circles, practicing law with Sir Walter Raleigh and Sir Walter Drake and enjoying regular performances by Shakespeare. It has also been speculated that he had ties to the Knights Templar and may have been trying to find their settlement on Narragansett Bay.
After a successfully harvesting a ton of sassafras, known for its healing properties, cedar timbers and furs, the settlement was disbanded and the group set off to return to England. Though Gosnold didn’t realize the colony that he set out to establish, he left his mark on the area. He is credited with naming Cape Cod because of the abundance of cod in its waters and Martha’s Vineyard for his deceased infant daughter and his wife’s grandmother, Martha Golding, as well as the wild grapes growing there. It is believed that he introduced the wheelbarrow to the New World and that Shakespeare’s play, The Tempest, may have been based on the documentation kept by Gosnold and his companions. Gosnold, continued his explorations and was part of the group responsible for the first English colony at Jamestown.
In 1902, construction of a 70 foot stone tower was initiated as a tribute to Bartholomew Gosnold on the spot where it was believed he set up the island’s first settlement. The monument was completed and dedicated on September 1, 1903.
When staying with my friend a couple of years ago, I read a small article about the the Cuttyhunk Monument. Remembering this article, I vowed that I was going to head out to the West End of the island to see this monument up close and personal.
One day, we set out for the long walk to the West End. Having spoken with a couple of other residents, we were warned to check the tide schedule as the water crosses the path between the two salt ponds, that leads to the beach. After we arrived, however, the fog rolled in quickly and we couldn’t see a thing.
A few more days passed and my time in Cuttyhunk was coming to a close. I was determined to make it out to get a better view of the monument. During the early morning, I woke up to a dense fog covering the island. Deciding that our adventure was just not going to happen, I closed my eyes and burrowed down deeper under the covers. Strangely enough, when I awoke later, the sun was shining and we decided to give it a try.
The day was hot and the dirt road a bit rocky and uneven. We continued our quest and as we came upon a hill, we were able to look through the clearing to a clear beach…and the monument! Wow! We were going to get a good view!
Trudging down the hill, we passed through the tall sea grass and tiptoed over the stones that separated the oyster ponds. We could see the monument to our left, but there was something else. The fog was rolling in!
Quickly, we made our way to the beach, walking in the direction of the monument and praying that this bout of fog was going to disperse. I have to say, I never gave up on that idea, but sadly, even though it thinned at times, it never really cleared. I guess the bright side was that I could still see the monument through the fog, yet, it wasn’t conducive to the beautiful photographs I had dreamed of. I must admit, however, this gloom, no matter how rarified, lent a creepy atmosphere, one that I could imagine the first settlers encountered when first stepping foot on this spot. I could almost imagine the native settlers standing on the point, waiting to greet the newcomers.
Sitting there on a large boulder, smelling the salty air, my imagination began to wander. What was it like landing here for the first time? Exciting, yet frightening, I am sure.
Wait, was that a ghost, standing on the point? The ghost of Bartholomew Gosnold?
All of this fog was really getting to me…it was just a fisherman hoping for some of the Atlantic Cod.
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Cuttyhunk Monument
- Address: West End, Cuttyhunk, Massachusetts
- Hours: 24 hours, daily and depending on the tides
- Admission: free
As we disembarked and made our way to the entrance, there were many guides seeking to assist visitors. Although we had originally thought we would hire a guide, when we finally made a decision on one particular person, someone hired them before we could. We finally decided to tour the premises on our own, a decision I realized would probably benefit me more than my husband. When I am trying to capture a place photographically, I always feel a bit disrespectful when I am shooting while they are speaking, however, if I don’t capture what I want to and we quickly move on, I feel a bit cheated. Since, it would have been just him and I, it would have been more evident that I was only half listening than when we were part of a group.
As we made our way up the Cultivation Terraces, we found our way to the City Gate and then on to the Cemetery, Funerary Rock and the House of the Guardians, finding that some amazing views of Machu Picchu can be had here.
Half an hour later, we returned to find an even greater number of people on the premises, making descent to the lower portion of Machu Picchu difficult. Spying llama nearby, we used them as a distraction for a while to rest up for the fight down the stairways.
Following the crowds, we made our way past the Temple of the Three Windows, the Main Temple and the Main Square with park directors keeping everyone on the path and moving in one direction. Eventually, we made it to the Sacred Rock and noticed the entrance to Huayna Picchu, the starting point to an arduous climb to the soaring pinnacle. Though we had had the opportunity to purchase tickets for the climb, staring up at this peak and the minuscule figures making their way up the steep paths, we were glad that we had skipped that part. Though I am not afraid of heights, I couldn’t image making my way up to the top…I was having trouble with the lack of oxygen in the higher altitudes on some of the simpler paths.
Once we checked back with our hotel, we were led through the maze of stairways and hallways leading up to our room on one of the top floors at the rear of the property. Dark wood and white plaster walls were complimented with brightly, woven fabrics. The place was neat and clean and we had a small balcony to sit and enjoy the surrounding mountain walls.
After settling in, we set out to see the town. Consisting of a main square, Plaza Manco Capac, and small passageways set into the mountainside, a railway line cuts through the western part of the town, running northwest to south, most important to the town’s viability. As we walked along the tracks, we watched the town in action, loading and unloading supplies brought in from larger Peruvian cities. Occasionally, the Explorer and Vistadome trains rumbled through and once, we even saw the Hiram Bingham glide by with its 1920’s-style carriages, finished with polished wood and brass. Inside, we could see tables set with white table cloths and fine china and the Observation Car where fortunate travelers can watch the Peruvian countryside with no barrier between them and the fresh air. It was nice to see, as with the prices charged for that type of adventure, it was as close as we were going to get!
We took a walk along Avenida Hermanos Ayar to see where the buses would pick us up in the morning for our trek to Machu Picchu. Buses of weary tourists were arriving from that day’s mountain adventure and it was exciting to think that in a little more than twelve hours, we were going to be setting out from this spot for our adventure of a lifetime.
Next, we made our way up the steep hill toward the hot springs. Although we had brought swimsuits, we decided on the advice of a friend, to skip this adventure. She said that the best time to visit is in the morning when the waters are fresher and not contaminated by the sweaty hikers who have descended from Machu Picchu and the Inca Trail. We checked out the entrance and the shops that rent swimsuits, sandals and towels. Reading up on the attraction later, we found reviews not so favorable, ranging from complaints of urine smells, mold and scum floating on the surface, so we were extremely glad that we had decided against a visit.
Finally, out last stop was the Mercado Artesanal. A vast labyrinth of stalls filled with t-shirts, jewelry, alpaca sweaters, bags, hats and other trinkets, it was confusing yet amusing to peruse this market and we picked up a few things for our children and ourselves.
Though our stay in Aguas Calientes was a short one, I thought the town to be quite charming and glad that we had given ourselves enough time to enjoy it. Once I had posted pictures taken during our stay, another friend confided to me that they had done one of the tours of the Sacred Valley, which had them arriving in Aguas Calientes after dark, departing for Machu Picchu early in the morning and returning to town, only to catch the train and return to Cusco. She loved my pictures and felt like she had been short-changed, wishing that she had had some time to wander around the small town. That being said, we also spoke with another couple who had decided to stay in Aguas Calientes for two nights. With so little to do other than Machu Picchu, they considered two nights to be a bit much.
Happy birthday to me…
Finally, a boat docked on the banks and we were given life vests and ushered down into the waiting vessel. Motoring along the calm, shallow waters, its banks lined with the local flora and fauna, I couldn’t keep the smile off of my face. This was truly an adventure!
A beautiful waterfall.
Swimming in the refreshing, cold, clear water with my son, I was elated that this was how I was able to start my day…enjoying nature at its most beautiful.
The villagers, dressed in their handwoven and metal, embellished cloths danced together, sometimes only the women and sometimes joined by the men.
The best was yet to come.
After a visit to the kitchen hut, where we watched the women preparing food for the day, we were treated to a meal of locally caught, fresh, fried fish and fruit. We then browsed the vast selection of items crafted by the tribe members…baskets, fabrics, jewelry, plates and masks…while watching the younger members of the tribe play under the tables and outside in the puddles. Here, you can also have a non-permanent tattoo applied to your skin and watch some of the finest basket makers in the world as they work to create intricate all sizes of baskets with intricate patterns from palm leaves and natural pigments.
The rain was still coming down, though not as hard, and it was time to head down to the boat and back to our origination point. The beauty of the region was not lost on us, regardless of the weather, but the usual sights of sloth’s, monkeys, toucans and eagles would not be had on this day.
The sun rose higher as we glided down river, finally pulling our boats onto the shore for our first rest and excursion. Arizona Hot Springs. Walking past boulders, gushing streams and high bluffs, we made our way inland through the slot canyon, noticing the temperature around us rising. Stepping into the water, it was noticeably warmer. Further upstream, the temperatures rose even higher. Climbing a twenty foot ladder to an overhead cliff, the water temperature was extremely hot, pouring forth from a geothermal spring. Taking a seat, we soaked for a few minutes, our muscles enjoying the torridity.
This thrilling experience is like no other and one of the many things to do in the Arenal area. Daredevils can reserve their ride on the Mistico website, however, if you find yourself outside of Costa Rica, never fear! Zorbing is offered in ten other action-loving countries!
Leaving the gardens, we made our way on to the main trail, winding our way steadily up the mountainside, crossing a few fixed bridges along the way. A short time later, we found our way to the first hanging bridge. A bit of a back log had us waiting a while to pass over…workers monitor the bridge and allow a limited number to cross the bridge at one time. Unfortunately, there are those who are not as considerate of other’s time and paused one to many times to take selfies and pictures of the surrounding area.
Finally, we made our way as steadily as possible across the shaky span, marveling at the clouds swirling around the treetops. From the bridges and the higher parts of the trails, epiphyte plants, birds, mammals and butterflies can be observed up close. Some of the high altitude birds include the bell bird and the Emerald Toucanette, while at lower elevations, toucans and turkey hens can be spied along with migratory birds of prey during the months from November to February. High altitude trees include Yema Huevo, Cirri and Pilon trees and in the lower regions, Caobilla, Fruta Dorada and Maquenque trees. Keep an eye out for frogs, snakes, lizards and mammels such as kinkajous, raccoons, margays, ocelots, pumas, jaguars and tapirs.
The trail spans almost two miles and can be covered in about two hours. Six more hanging bridges are spaced out on the trail, along with a waterfall and viewing area and a tunnel. Each of the bridges vary in length and believe it or not, after the first bridge, the crowds thin. Maybe visitors decide that one is enough. Maybe they think they are too shaky or they run out of time, but at the end of the trail, the last few bridges have no one on them, allowing ample time to enjoy the views from the center of the bridge.
Even though I had done a short rafting trip (5 km) in Thailand in the Phang Nga province a few years ago, I felt a different dynamic here and was a bit nervous, especially when we were instructed on what to do within the raft…besides paddle. There was so much to remember, depending on what the conditions were in the river. If there were many rocks…“Get Down”…and we had to slide down to the floor of the raft and hold our paddles upright. “Paddle Forward” and “Paddle Back” were the easiest. Then, the scariest of the instructions…What To Do If You Fall Out of the Raft! Surely that wasn’t going to happen?
A visitor’s center is located on the premises which gives an interpretation of the history and nature of the national park. If you are near the campground, there is also an information center which will provide further information.
The smaller of the two, Strokkur, is more reliable in providing a show. Strokkur erupts about every 10 to 15 minutes, 24 hours a day. There are other, smaller geysers throughout the area as well as mineral springs and mud pots worth the walk around the premises. Since Geysir was quiet during my visit, my attention, however, was always drawn back to Strokkur, with its timely blasts.
