The Gurnet

Christmas Day Was the last time that I walked out the five miles to The Gurnet from the Powder Point Bridge into Plymouth. And that's the truth. Today is a sunny, almost warm June 11th, 2016. Duxbury Beach itself is six miles long and probably the best beach on the South Shore of Boston. It has almost no stones and the sandy beach is wide. Today the Atlantic Ocean is up to 55 degrees. That is what the chalkboard at the Ranger Station says, at the east end of the bridge.

 

Behind this brick wall is the oldest clay tennis court in the United States. I know because I redid the swimming pool and driveway.

Along this shore are oak trees. The rumor is the acorns came from the bilges of the Mayflower and the Speedwell.

Sandy and I have lived here for 44 years and in all that time no one has called the Gurnet Bridge the Gurnet Bridge, We always refer to it as the Powder Point Bridge and so does everyone else. But history says Gurnet is correct.

Close but no cigar.

“The only good indian is a dead one.”  Toch-away, a Texas Comanche chief, thumped his chest and  said, "Me good injun." General Philip Sheridan said, “The only good indians I ever saw were dead."  Not, "the only good indian is a dead one."

The junction of Careswell Street and the railroad tracks that used to run through our yard was called officially Webster Place Depot in the 1800s. It was mainly used for travelers to summer in Green Harbor and everyone referred to it as Green Harbor Station. The  largest hotel stood exactly where Mamma Mia’s stands today. It was called The Webster.

Daniel Webster lived on Webster Street. Holy cow, what a coincidence.

"Play it again, Sam." Humphrey Bogart did not say that to Sam. He said, “You played it for her, now you can play it for me. PLAY IT!"

By the way Sam, Dooley Wilson, was faking the piano. He was a drummer. You CAN make this stuff up.

There is a photo of me running here years ago in my green Bill Rogers running suit. Do you remember those? It was taken by a professional, and was printed in the Duxbury Clipper Newspaper. Donna, Randy, John and I ran this beautiful route for thousands of miles. Low thousands, but still thousands.

I start my walk from the parking lot at the west end of Powder Point Bridge, near the tennis court wall. I pull my ball cap way down so I don’t have to greet people. This is impossible if you are wearing it backwards. You don’t still wear your hat during dinner with the family, do you? Pulled way down is exactly what Ben Affleck did on the flight from Fort Myers to Boston last March. Sandy recognized him anyway.

The first group of people you see are the fisherman, both in the water and off the bridge itself. At this time of year they are trying to catch striped bass -- stripers.

 

Not far from the bridge, you can see Myles Standish monument in the distance on Standish Shore.

 

 There are two crossovers to get to the beach with your 4WD vehicle, to spend the day ($300 per year).

 


Almost to the Gurnet, this is the view that you get. It always reminds me of a Clint Eastwood movie set. 

First there's the Gurnet with the ancient light house, Plymouth Light.  Locals call it Gurnet Light. It is the oldest wooden light house in the United States, built in 1768 when we were still English.

 

It an be seen for 17 nautical miles. Gurnet was named by the English, who were reminded of a similar place where there was excellent gurnet fishing, at a harbor in England. Originally called the Gurnets Nose. In 1776, it was fortified and called Fort Andrew.

  

When Samuel de Champlain 

 

arrived in 1606 to map the Gurnet and Clark's Island, he found thick pine forests and native Americans fishing for cod. Halfway to Gurnet there is a section of greenery called  High Pines.

As you can see from the photo, they are long gone. The Indians and the tall pines, but not the cod.

Tall Pines in Spanish is pinos altos. Pinos Altos also happens to be a town in New Mexico, close to Silver City, where by the way Billy the Kid's mom is buried.

Jack Nicholson’s mother would sometimes call him a son of a bitch. Jack thinks that is funny.

Windsurfing on a beautiful day, near Saquish.

 

Next is Saquish, which juts out into Plimoth Harbour.  

Beach dinner/fire on Saquish with the Armstrongs.

In the heat of the summer we drive out here with David and Robin, and picnic on the small piece of beach property that they own.

There are all kinds of shore birds  and ducks along this beach rose lined dirt road. 

 

Barb and John have recently become birders and really know their stuff.

A willett.

Piping Plovers OMG! 

Today I saw a pair of willets. 

Another willett.

Last weekend down at Allans Point in Westport, I saw them for the very first time. I am pretty sure these were the exact same birds. Believe it or not there are loons here but you would not recognize them from the ones you see on the lakes of Vermont or Maine.

That is Clark's Island, named for the second in command, being first mate, of the Mayflower. So it really should be called John Clarke Island.

Truman Capote wrote Breakfast at Tiffany's here and Henry David Thoreau waded across Duxbury Bay to get here at very low tide on his famous long Cape Cod walk. Pilgrims held some of their very first religious services on this small island.

A whale is buried right here. I saw them do it. Well what do you do with a beached dead whale?

Walking back, across the bridge again.

You could join me some time If you can walk ten miles. But I do have my rules …….

• No good morning, buenos dias, or buen dia greetings. We are trying to get away from the madding crowds.

• No backward hats.

• You can’t bring Buddy or Fido or Flipper with you.

• No chatting, as we are enjoying the desert-like peace and quiet.

 You know what ?  On second thought . . . 

su servidor    

Roberto Francisco Tocino

I know 177 people's birthdays.