Final day of vacation, well not counting the day of travel coming home.
And this was the heart of the vacation plan, a day long sail on a
schooner. Specifically the
Ardelle. I got up early, got showered and ready, and headed out.
She sets sail promptly at 8, and I was NOT going to be late. The Ardelle
had a crew of three, one of whom spotted my Innsmouth shirt and commented.
The rest of the passengers were all sailing enthusiasts, some of whom
had helped build or work the Ardelle. She's a modern ship, but built as
close to the original fishing schooners used in the area as they could.
I think I was only person on board who'd never sailed on sailing craft this
size, (my sail boat experience is being on little 4-5 person boats), and
I hadn't been out to sea on anything smaller than a cruise ship since I was
a kid. Not that anyone gave me grief about being the new fish, was a very
friendly bunch, crew and passengers both.
We headed away from the dock under engine, but as soon as we were out in the
harbor they hoisted sail. Well one sail was hoisted by myself and another
passenger. He'd done it before, and was in better shape than me. but I still
managed it. Wasn't til later than I realized that it gets harder the higher
the sail goes, as you're pulling more weight, not just fatigued from the
effort. Really glad the sails were modern synthetics, not old fashioned
canvas. Probably would make a good exercise plan...if you had the room.
So, I was on a schooner heading out around Cape Ann under sail. Sea was
pretty calm, enough wind to move along nicely, and some swells to make it
interesting, but not test my sea legs severely. Still don't get seasick,
go me. The weather started off kind of brisk and cloudy, which felt
great to me. So how did it feel to be under sail ?
It was....it was amazing. Nothing quite like how it feels to
go on the wind. I got lightly teased about how I was pretty much glued
to the bow of the ship, just looking out with a big ol grin on my face.
Pretty sure I wouldn't make the best figurehead, but who cares. Seriously,
if you like water or ships, find yourself some kind of sailing tour like
this and go. It's better then taking a cruise, at least in the short
term.
The crew was very friendly, and relaxed. They took the ship seriously,
and even when they were joking and telling stories you knew they were
paying attention to everything going on. And since most of the passengers
had been around the Cape Ann area, even if the crew was busy, someone was
pointing out various lighthouses and islands, and history. Oh, amusement.
Using the head on this ship was....tricky. Basically you pump in sea water
to flush with, but there's a valve and a pump and...where you go. And
the directions, while perfectly plain and descriptive, did require a few
stalled attempts before I got it. It's not rocket science, but it does
require some coordination and it's not like using the toilet at home.
*laugh* Definitely RTFM (Read The Flushing Manual)
We stopped off
in Rockport for about a half an hour. Got some snacks. Then we sailed up
north to a little artist colony who's name I'm blanking on. Just stayed
long enough for some of the locals to see the ship, and to get some
pictures, then back out. By then the wind had died down enough that we
had to go by motor. Which felt a little different, and obviously was louder.
But still was a blast. Talked sailing and how he teaches sailing with the
captain, basically letting the newest crewperson man the helm, without
hovering, because you can't learn how these ships feel any other way, but
making sure that if something goes wrong, they know they're not hung out
to dry. Talked Lovecraft with one of the crew, who was the captain's
daughter (No jokes please), and had just gotten back from refitting a sailing
vessel in Singapore, and was working on a grant proposal to convert an old
motored fishing vessel into a small research ship. Otherwise everyone mostly
talked boats and ships and what to do when a fog bank rolls in when you're
in a one person kayak and your forgot your compass. (short answer, don't
forget your compass). Answered some questions about living in Texas, found
out the unofficial state motto of Rhode Island is 'I know a guy', and had
multiple people make subtle suggestions that I'd probably like living in
the area better than in landlocked Dallas/Fort Worth. Very tempting thoughts
there.
We then sailed down the Annisquam river, which
separates Cape Ann from the rest of Massachusetts, making it actually an
island. Lots of people on the water, in anything from kayaks to big
motor yachts. Pretty sure we were the coolest though. *grin* Eventually
we made out out of the river and into the western harbor, then sailed back
to her dock. Definitely was the high point of the trip. Will seriously
be going back to sail again on the Ardelle. I cannot praise this highly
enough. I'm grinning now as I'm thinking about it.
Once we docked I headed back to my car. I had some vague plans to do
more tourist stuff, but honestly I was pretty beat. Oh, and the clouds had
broken about the time we went from sail to motor, so it got warmish. So I
ended up getting some drive through and heading back to hotel. I meant to
go back down to the beach, but there was a fair crowd, and I was pretty
socialed out. So I spent the evening reading/listening to audiobooks,
futzing around online, and playing chess. Sadly we didn't have much wind,
and what we had blew the wrong way, so it was still pretty warm. Had trouble
getting to sleep, as this was the first night the ocean was pretty quiet.
Did go to sleep eventually...then it was morning, and I had to go home.
Drove back to Boston, drove in a different way just to see more of the area.
Checked in my car, (got lost trying to figure out where to check in). Took
the shuttle to the terminal, got all checked in and my hair fondled by the
TSA. Flight home was pretty average, and got back to my car pretty quick.
Did not enjoy going back to 100 degrees. But it was nice to be home, in my
own bed. Even if I had to go back to my white noise generator ocean sounds,
instead of the real thing.
So, to wrap up. I had a blast. I definitely wished I had more time to
explore, but I made plenty of mental (and actual) notes for the next
Innsmouth visit. So many museums and points of interest in that part
alone. I'm glad I stayed by the sea, even if I didn't end up swimming,
there really is nothing like sleeping to the sound of waves. So yes, Virginia
there is an Innsmouth, and it's pretty damn cool place. Iä Iä Dagon Fhtagn!
Category Archives: Innsmouth
Goin’ Down to Innsmouth: The Other Innsmouth(s)
So yes, I said the 'Other Innsmouth'. For those not in the know, HPL based
his description of Innsmouth on Gloucester, as well as the nearby port of
Newburyport. I wasn't originally planning on going to Newburyport, but
as I said, I had a random desire to drive so I went ahead and did it.
Drove through various towns in Essex, if I'd had more time and more of a plan
I'd have stopped at various museums I passed, along with various cool old
buildings. Next time (and yes there will be a next time) I'll have to
make more stops.
Got to Newburyport, and I got an odd vibe. Not bad, but definitely more touristy and 'hipsterish' than Innsmouth Prime. Drove around a bit, stopped to find some lunch and a bookstore, found the bookstore but nothing lunchy. Pulled out the Shining Trapezohedron and tried to find a place that didn't charge $20 for a basic cheeseburger. I was not successful. I widened the search and found a place on the way back that looked tasty, didn't use ingredients that I had to google, and was reasonably priced. So I turned back around and found the Choate Bridge Pub. Your basic local place. Got a burger than was perfectly cooked and tasty, fries were good, and the service was great. Definitely worth the driving. Then I decided to go visit yet another Innsmouth...
In the story 'Shadow Over Innsmouth', HPL doesn't say exactly where the town is, but he gives a lot of clues. There's a river, it's near Newburyport and Rowley, it's past Plum Island by some amount, and there's marshland. And I've spent more than a little time on Google Maps trying to puzzle out a location. And as luck would have it, I'm just a smallish drive from the location. So I decide to see if I can get there. So I drive down winding roads, and some nice views of the water...and my GPS says it's right ahead...and there's a sign saying 'No thru traffic, private' and a security guard/suit. Now it could just be a private community, or Innsmouth could have some secrets it wants to keep, even from a cultist like me. So I decided discretion is the better part of valor, so I turned around and drove a bit away to a public beach. Could see part of the community, but not much. Was a really nice view of the water, I will neither confirm or deny the presence of shapes in the water. Also, keeping the location to my self. First Oath of Dagon all that jazz *wink*
From there I headed down to Manchester-by-the-Sea for another bookstore that came well recommended. I also met a very friendly dog and his family. Gave pets, then said something about 'Ok, your Mom has places to go' and she came back with 'Oh no, we go on his schedule'. So more petting was had. *laugh* From the bookstore I headed back to the hotel, and had a quiet night of book, snacks, and early to bed. I had to be up early next day to go sailing.
Got to Newburyport, and I got an odd vibe. Not bad, but definitely more touristy and 'hipsterish' than Innsmouth Prime. Drove around a bit, stopped to find some lunch and a bookstore, found the bookstore but nothing lunchy. Pulled out the Shining Trapezohedron and tried to find a place that didn't charge $20 for a basic cheeseburger. I was not successful. I widened the search and found a place on the way back that looked tasty, didn't use ingredients that I had to google, and was reasonably priced. So I turned back around and found the Choate Bridge Pub. Your basic local place. Got a burger than was perfectly cooked and tasty, fries were good, and the service was great. Definitely worth the driving. Then I decided to go visit yet another Innsmouth...
In the story 'Shadow Over Innsmouth', HPL doesn't say exactly where the town is, but he gives a lot of clues. There's a river, it's near Newburyport and Rowley, it's past Plum Island by some amount, and there's marshland. And I've spent more than a little time on Google Maps trying to puzzle out a location. And as luck would have it, I'm just a smallish drive from the location. So I decide to see if I can get there. So I drive down winding roads, and some nice views of the water...and my GPS says it's right ahead...and there's a sign saying 'No thru traffic, private' and a security guard/suit. Now it could just be a private community, or Innsmouth could have some secrets it wants to keep, even from a cultist like me. So I decided discretion is the better part of valor, so I turned around and drove a bit away to a public beach. Could see part of the community, but not much. Was a really nice view of the water, I will neither confirm or deny the presence of shapes in the water. Also, keeping the location to my self. First Oath of Dagon all that jazz *wink*
From there I headed down to Manchester-by-the-Sea for another bookstore that came well recommended. I also met a very friendly dog and his family. Gave pets, then said something about 'Ok, your Mom has places to go' and she came back with 'Oh no, we go on his schedule'. So more petting was had. *laugh* From the bookstore I headed back to the hotel, and had a quiet night of book, snacks, and early to bed. I had to be up early next day to go sailing.
Goin’ Down to Innsmouth: Books, books, and books
When last I went to Innsmouth, I had just gone through the tour of the
Sargent House. The rain had let up, so I headed back towards Main Street.
I stopped at two stores, first an antique place with lots of books. Lots
of books and knickknacks and stuff, in little to no order. So I spent
a lot of time shuffling around, skimming titles on spines hoping I'd catch
a keyword or author name or something. Was fun, if a little crazy. The
books were randomly placed, nothing by subject. I'm sure I missed some
treasures because my booksenses were overwhelmed by the chaos. Picked
up a couple of books and some antique postcards. Then I went further down
the block and visited Dogtown Book Shop. Wow. Bookshelves groaning with
books, piles of books on the floor. Books everywhere. Unlike the antique
shop, they were organized. But the shop itself was a maze of shelves and
nooks and stuff. Some logically, as all the histories were next to each
other. Some made sense as 'well yes, after mysteries you could stick
sci-fi/fantasy/horror all together...in the back of the shop...with the least
light'. And some were just...best example,
The erotica section was further into the back than scifi and friends, and
behind part of the wall that jutted out. So pretty much you had to know
where it was, or were willing to venture deep into the book-abyss to stumble
upon it. Was a lot of fun to browse (the store in general, I only gave the
erotica a passing glance), but I was more than a little claustrophobic
and terrified I'd knock over a stack of books and start an apocalypse. Found
some good books, again pretty sure I missed stuff, possibly a gateway to
The Library on Celaeno. Definitely liked the hours on the door 'x to x, unless
the proprietor feels otherwise.'
There was more to see and do in town, but I felt a weird urge to take a road trip. So I hopped in the rental, set the GPS and went cross Essex county to...the Other Innsmouth.
There was more to see and do in town, but I felt a weird urge to take a road trip. So I hopped in the rental, set the GPS and went cross Essex county to...the Other Innsmouth.
Goin’ Down to Innsmouth: Chapter Four – The Esoteric Order of Dagon
Friday dawned early. I'd left the balcony door open, and the curtains pulled,
and my room faced directly to the east. Not that there was much of a dawn,
it was a gray, overcast day. But still enough to wake me up early. Got
up, got ready and headed back into Innsmouth proper. I'd looked up parking
online, and found a place kind of center. Seemed a better idea to pay for
a day's parking vs trying to find parking as I moved around, plus more
fun to walk through the old streets and houses. So I did.
There was no plan as I went. I wanted to go to the harbor, and I had some landmarks, and stores I wanted to visit, but I just went as the mood and feet took me. Had breakfast at a crowded little diner called 'Sugar Magnolia'. Omelet (big chunks of tomato and bacon in it), potatoes and toast. Went from there to 'The Bookstore of Gloucester', which was a small but nice little shop with new books. As it my habit, I picked up a book about local history, and some postcards/art cards. Also met the store pup, Finn. A little snow white...something. Cute guy, gave me a sniff, got his pettings, then took his human out to pee (he peed, not the human... I think). I then walked to the harbor, stared out at the water for a long while (I did that a lot this trip). Saw the memorial to all the fishermen who'd died over the years. All the names that are known are written down, going back centuries, up until the 2000s. It's humbling.
On a lighter note, the various kinds of gulls around were yelling at each other, different calls. Really sounded like they were cursing each other out. After the harbor, I walked up though the town going towards one of the landmarks, the Esoteric Order of Dagon Hall (or American Legion Post #3, if you believe in such things). I would say of what I learned there, but I am bound by the Second Oath. Oddly, there's also a statue of Joan of Arc across the street, a memorial to those who fought in WWI. What's funny, I only just realized it was Joan of Arc. I was distracted I guess. From there I went The Sargent House, one of the original fancy homes in town. Old Georgian mansion, which is always a good excuse to get out of the drizzle. The house was built for a Judith Sargent Stevens Murray in 1782, she one was of the early feminists. I showed up just as a tour was starting, so I joined in. Beautiful house, lots of portraits on the walls, very cool furniture, and my fellow tour takers were big art and history nerds from NJ, so they asked tons of questions I didn't think to ask. Some books on display, including a family bible that was epic in size. Of course, it could have also been the Necronomicon, but I wasn't willing to risk it. Historians will have your arm off for offenses like that. If you're in the area, I highly recommend visiting. The tour takes about an hour, and it's worth it. I wonder if the local bus driver comes here a lot...
I'm cutting Friday off here because I've been writing for almost 2 hours, and I'm running out of tentacles. Tune in next time for stories of me semi-randomly going to another Innsmouth, wandering around Essex environs, and maybe actually finding where my port of dreams is...
There was no plan as I went. I wanted to go to the harbor, and I had some landmarks, and stores I wanted to visit, but I just went as the mood and feet took me. Had breakfast at a crowded little diner called 'Sugar Magnolia'. Omelet (big chunks of tomato and bacon in it), potatoes and toast. Went from there to 'The Bookstore of Gloucester', which was a small but nice little shop with new books. As it my habit, I picked up a book about local history, and some postcards/art cards. Also met the store pup, Finn. A little snow white...something. Cute guy, gave me a sniff, got his pettings, then took his human out to pee (he peed, not the human... I think). I then walked to the harbor, stared out at the water for a long while (I did that a lot this trip). Saw the memorial to all the fishermen who'd died over the years. All the names that are known are written down, going back centuries, up until the 2000s. It's humbling.
On a lighter note, the various kinds of gulls around were yelling at each other, different calls. Really sounded like they were cursing each other out. After the harbor, I walked up though the town going towards one of the landmarks, the Esoteric Order of Dagon Hall (or American Legion Post #3, if you believe in such things). I would say of what I learned there, but I am bound by the Second Oath. Oddly, there's also a statue of Joan of Arc across the street, a memorial to those who fought in WWI. What's funny, I only just realized it was Joan of Arc. I was distracted I guess. From there I went The Sargent House, one of the original fancy homes in town. Old Georgian mansion, which is always a good excuse to get out of the drizzle. The house was built for a Judith Sargent Stevens Murray in 1782, she one was of the early feminists. I showed up just as a tour was starting, so I joined in. Beautiful house, lots of portraits on the walls, very cool furniture, and my fellow tour takers were big art and history nerds from NJ, so they asked tons of questions I didn't think to ask. Some books on display, including a family bible that was epic in size. Of course, it could have also been the Necronomicon, but I wasn't willing to risk it. Historians will have your arm off for offenses like that. If you're in the area, I highly recommend visiting. The tour takes about an hour, and it's worth it. I wonder if the local bus driver comes here a lot...
I'm cutting Friday off here because I've been writing for almost 2 hours, and I'm running out of tentacles. Tune in next time for stories of me semi-randomly going to another Innsmouth, wandering around Essex environs, and maybe actually finding where my port of dreams is...
Goin’ Down to Innsmouth: Chapter Three – The Call of the Deep
I headed back to the hotel, stopping by a local grocery store (Not, sadly
of the First National Chain), and picked up snacks. My hotel room had a
kitchenette with a fridge, so I got some fruit and cheese along with soda and
chips and cookies. I read for a while til dusk set it, then I went for a
walk along the private (to hotel guests and people living in the houses in
the immediate area.) Sandy beach, like what I grew up with, but with a lot
of small/mid sized rocks, well water worn. I'm not sure if that's fill,
or that's what was original there and they brought in sand, or what. After
a while, I stopped, picked a memorable spot to stow my socks and shoes. got
rid of them, and walked down to the surf.
Ye gods and little fishies, it was COLD. I grew up swimming in the Atlantic, but that was a few hundred miles south, and usually later in the year...and oh yeah, not in the evening *laugh* Still, wow. But once the initial shock wore off, and my bones stopped trying to shrink around the pin in my ankle, it felt good. First 1/3rd of my life was spent within easy distance of the ocean, and I miss it. And it felt like I'd come home. I've been to the Atlantic a few times since I moved to Texas, twice in the last few years. But this is the first time I let myself to be in the water, even if it was only up to my calves. Oh, part of me wanted to go swimming. But the wiser part of me remembers that I'm not a great swimmer, that the water was bloody cold, and that swimming at night can be dangerous. Especially if you don't know the water. So ignored the siren call and just stood there. Well, not just stood. I was reminded that even in shallow water like I was in, the Atlantic will move you around. Water flowing over feet will pull sand from under you, and suddenly you're in a hole with an unexpected swelling knocking you over. So think of it as half trancing out to the sound of waves and the feel of water, and half Irish step dancing as you try to keep balance. I could feel all the negative feelings I'd had the last few months drain out. Stress, sadness, anger...all pulled out. I don't care what you believe or don't believe, in moments like that you realize why people have always loved, worshiped and feared the ocean, often all at once. Been a long time since I felt that peaceful about anything.
Stayed out there for a while, eventually decided that the cold was winning out, so I came back on land (with some regrets), listened to the waves for a while longer, then decided the mosquitoes that ignored me in the surf, decided I was fair game on land. So I beat a retreat for for hotel room, where I hid behind a mesh screen and read, finally going to bed with the ocean singing to me live, instead of from the white noise generator playing a recording of the ocean.
I don't recall if I dreamed (any of the nights I was in Innsmouth), but I haven't slept that soundly in forever.
Ye gods and little fishies, it was COLD. I grew up swimming in the Atlantic, but that was a few hundred miles south, and usually later in the year...and oh yeah, not in the evening *laugh* Still, wow. But once the initial shock wore off, and my bones stopped trying to shrink around the pin in my ankle, it felt good. First 1/3rd of my life was spent within easy distance of the ocean, and I miss it. And it felt like I'd come home. I've been to the Atlantic a few times since I moved to Texas, twice in the last few years. But this is the first time I let myself to be in the water, even if it was only up to my calves. Oh, part of me wanted to go swimming. But the wiser part of me remembers that I'm not a great swimmer, that the water was bloody cold, and that swimming at night can be dangerous. Especially if you don't know the water. So ignored the siren call and just stood there. Well, not just stood. I was reminded that even in shallow water like I was in, the Atlantic will move you around. Water flowing over feet will pull sand from under you, and suddenly you're in a hole with an unexpected swelling knocking you over. So think of it as half trancing out to the sound of waves and the feel of water, and half Irish step dancing as you try to keep balance. I could feel all the negative feelings I'd had the last few months drain out. Stress, sadness, anger...all pulled out. I don't care what you believe or don't believe, in moments like that you realize why people have always loved, worshiped and feared the ocean, often all at once. Been a long time since I felt that peaceful about anything.
Stayed out there for a while, eventually decided that the cold was winning out, so I came back on land (with some regrets), listened to the waves for a while longer, then decided the mosquitoes that ignored me in the surf, decided I was fair game on land. So I beat a retreat for for hotel room, where I hid behind a mesh screen and read, finally going to bed with the ocean singing to me live, instead of from the white noise generator playing a recording of the ocean.
I don't recall if I dreamed (any of the nights I was in Innsmouth), but I haven't slept that soundly in forever.
Goin’ Down to Innsmouth: Chapter Two – Dining at the Gilman
[RAW]
Innsmouth is a town of wide extent and dense construction…(Ok, yes I know
it’s Gloucester, but this is my blog, and from here on out it’s getting called
Innsmouth). Lots of older homes and buildings, some new stuff that fits in,
and some stuff that just plain looks weird. The main streets are like
most any street USA, but if go down the side streets it gets kind of…
cramped. Especially since parking is at a premium, so everyone parks at
the curb if possible. Got turned around a bunch, (a common theme) but
finally made it to The Pilot House, which is a strange but cool mix of
American bar food, and Chinese and Japanese Food. I went for the sushi,
my usuals, plus a appetizer that was a mix of spicy tuna, avocado, and rice
with eel sauce, deep fried, with more eel sauce on top. (I’m a huge fan
of the sauce they put on freshwater eel sushi, so this was just heaven)
The waitress was
very friendly and attentive (and pretty darn cute too, nice big eyes), and the food was great. Lots of locals came in to grab take out orders, also a good
sign. I left with leftovers and a very contented stomach.
[/RAW[
Goin’ Down to Innsmouth: Chapter One – The Arrival
Ok, if I don't start writing the tale of Innsmouth, I'll just keep putting
it off. So, here, we, go!
The airport and the flight out were not much to speak of. Well other than I thought I was getting a plane full of college kids who looked like they were going on spring break. Got major 'Final Destination' vibes, but luckily they were going to Cancun. I spent the flight reading, William Meikle's 'Operation: Siberia' and bits and pieces of other stuff. Got to Logan that afternoon, took a very crowded shuttle to the car rental. Got upgraded to a sedan (they were out of compacts)...and I found out that these new fangled autos are smarter than me. I literally spent 5 minutes trying to figure out how to start a push button starting system. Including Googling the url they gave me for car instructions...it's a year or two out of date. The nice lady though took pity on me and told me to hold the brake down. The more I use consumer electronics, the more I understand how Mom felt. That and if it doesn't have a CLI, it sucks. *wink*
So I fired up my phone's GPS, and headed out into Boston traffic. Within 3 minutes I was cursing to make my New Yorker brethren proud. Soon after that I was gesturing like a native. Miss a LOT of turns because Boston is laid out like any city that's grown organically for 4 centuries. (I just will not drive in London. Ever. I've heard stories) I finally got on the road I wanted, the 1A which parallels the Atlantic. Windows down, sea breeze smell, the call of seagulls over an audiobook of 'The Call of Cthulhu'. I was happy. And cursing much less. The drive took about 2 hours, with a short stop in Salem to check out a bookstore. (shocking, I know). Got to my hotel north of Gloucester (by about 5 miles), signed in, got an actual key, not a magnetic keycard like everywhere I've been in recent memory, and went up to my room.
The room itself had nothing really eye catching...well other than the view out over the Atlantic. WOW! Surf, a nice wind coming in, just what the Doctor ordered. (West, Herbert west). Unpacked, stared a lot at the water, finally decided that if I didn't eat fairly soon, I'd be snacking on a beachgoer. So I pulled up my map, and picked a place and drove back into town.
The airport and the flight out were not much to speak of. Well other than I thought I was getting a plane full of college kids who looked like they were going on spring break. Got major 'Final Destination' vibes, but luckily they were going to Cancun. I spent the flight reading, William Meikle's 'Operation: Siberia' and bits and pieces of other stuff. Got to Logan that afternoon, took a very crowded shuttle to the car rental. Got upgraded to a sedan (they were out of compacts)...and I found out that these new fangled autos are smarter than me. I literally spent 5 minutes trying to figure out how to start a push button starting system. Including Googling the url they gave me for car instructions...it's a year or two out of date. The nice lady though took pity on me and told me to hold the brake down. The more I use consumer electronics, the more I understand how Mom felt. That and if it doesn't have a CLI, it sucks. *wink*
So I fired up my phone's GPS, and headed out into Boston traffic. Within 3 minutes I was cursing to make my New Yorker brethren proud. Soon after that I was gesturing like a native. Miss a LOT of turns because Boston is laid out like any city that's grown organically for 4 centuries. (I just will not drive in London. Ever. I've heard stories) I finally got on the road I wanted, the 1A which parallels the Atlantic. Windows down, sea breeze smell, the call of seagulls over an audiobook of 'The Call of Cthulhu'. I was happy. And cursing much less. The drive took about 2 hours, with a short stop in Salem to check out a bookstore. (shocking, I know). Got to my hotel north of Gloucester (by about 5 miles), signed in, got an actual key, not a magnetic keycard like everywhere I've been in recent memory, and went up to my room.
The room itself had nothing really eye catching...well other than the view out over the Atlantic. WOW! Surf, a nice wind coming in, just what the Doctor ordered. (West, Herbert west). Unpacked, stared a lot at the water, finally decided that if I didn't eat fairly soon, I'd be snacking on a beachgoer. So I pulled up my map, and picked a place and drove back into town.