Hurricane Gloria (1985). I totally remember this day. You know what Cape Codders do when a hurricane makes landfall? Why we head out to Nobska lighthouse to see how windy it actually is.
This entry is pretty much written for my dad, so I don’t expect anyone who didn’t reside in the Hallinan Nut House to find it terribly interesting. You’ve probably long since figured it out, but I started this blog business because I wanted to be closer to my family- even when I’m far away and making random life decisions that even I don’t understand or foresee. Furthermore, when I average only one trip home a year, I find it impossible to encapsulate the previous twelve months by saying anything other than “all is well”. With my blog at least, there’s an opportunity for my family to share in my comedic misfortunes on a weekly basis.
One more thing: when I put up photos of cool things that I have managed to experience, I always do so with a certain amount of hesitation. The last thing I want is for these entries to come across as pretentious, showy, or communicating some “Look at how great my life is!” vibe. I still feel like the same dumb kid who sat silently in my 7th grade grammar class as our teacher terrified us with menacing demonstration of verbs: “MR. FITZGERALD THREW THE CHALK!”
Really.
It’s been a good few entries since I’ve subjected you to a view of my running route. This one really needs to be submitted for a Rave Run, if it hasn’t already.
This entry also wraps up Santo Antão. I loved this island in all of its precarious basalt splendor. The last day on the island started out with a sunrise run along the ocean road. The views were amazing, and the incline coupled vehicle traffic and cobblestone paving made it just enough of a challenge. My two traveling companions only ran in a former life, so we met up to eat before piling into the car for one last roll of the dice along the mountain roads.
Breakfast of Champions: cachupa. There’s a lot about Santo Antão that reminds me of the Hawaiian Islands, and this national dish falls falls into this category. To me, this is the Cape Verdean version of the Loco Moco. An interesting note, “cachupa” is the word that Senegalese use when they refer to Cape Verdeans. I think it sounds better than toubab.
One of the tiny towns that grew out of the mountain cliffs. I just wanted to point out that I never knew you could buy children’s size Run DMC t-shirts. That’s almost as good as a child’s size Obituary t-shirt.
We cheat death once more and exit the valley to return for the ocean. Our trip is coming to an end as we make our way towards the ferry.
As a last gasp at accidental tourism, we spy a modest-looking lighthouse sticking up from the rocks. We parked our trusty Suzuki (that shakes if you go over 40 miles per hour) and climbed up the hill to check it out.
I’m grateful that we finally have a proper footpath to navigate. The guy in front of me is our grog-loving Coast Guard officer. In case you are curious, he still had a headache that day.
It be an olde lighthouse, so I snap a shot in black and white for good measure. Dad would approve.
The weathering of these structures has really yielded some fantastic natural texture. I hope don’t they demolish this. By the way, can you guess what Megan brought back as a souvenir?
And now we’ll wander inside. Is your tetanus shot up to date? No? Don’t be lame, climb on up anyway.
It’s totally sturdy up here. Swear to God. At least I hope to God.
I think the light is out of order.
This is not a fake photo op Megan smile. It was taken as soon as I came around the corner, and I think you can gather that I am in my element.
I love checking out old abandoned stuff. I still know nothing about this lighthouse, but that wasn’t really the point of the visit.
Cape Verde is still very different from New England, but after ten days of marathon travel here I can certainly pinpoint a number of similarities. I am told that a lot of the immigrants who went to New England are from the islands of Brava and Fogo- the islands of fisherman and whalers. So it’s not so much the Mayor Menino t-shirt or the Patriots Superbowl ballcap that make me feel at home- I think it’s the ocean. Those of us who grow up by the sea have a hard time staying away. That’s why you’ll never see me settling in the middle of a land mass.
In Falmouth there’s a lighthouse in Woods Hole, and there’s one at the Hatchville Shipyard. I love visiting both- but when I can’t get home easily, I’ll take the closest thing I can get.