The park extends from the fist to the elbow, from around proud Provincetown to historic Chatham Harbor, and there’s much to see and do. For me, the quintessential experience is to find an isolated stretch of beach and walk until the birds far outnumber the people. I saw dozens of grey seals swimming right near the shore or lying on the rocks just off the beach. It’s difficult to get to any beach without passing a lighthouse, but if you want to climb one, your best shot is Highland Light (above), the first one commissioned on the Cape by one George Washington.
There are about a dozen named trails too, and I’d recommend hiking near Fort Hill, where you can see the Penniman House, get a great view of the marsh, and spot many different birds. With the aid of a birdsong identifier, I counted 18 different species in one day, including the rare Indigo Bunting and an uncommon Willow Flycatcher.
If you have a bike, consider taking the Cape Cod Rail Trail, which is a high-quality dedicated bike trail through about 1/3 of the cape, and there are also other decent bike lanes and bike trails. My first bike trip here a few decades ago, extended the length of Cape Cod, plus the islands of Martha’s Vineyard and Nantucket, returning by ferry from Provincetown to Boston. When I last visited the lighthouse above, it stood where I stood to take the photo above, because the highland cliffs are eroding at several feet per year, forcing them to move the lighthouse in the intervening decades.
Visiting in shoulder season, rather than July-August, helps avoid miserable traffic and exorbitant hotel rates. There are also lots of good seafood shacks, still one or two cheaper motels, some campgrounds, and lots of nature. Wellfleet is well known for oysters, and the fried clams here are the best I’ve had. I’m still on a quest to find the best lobster roll, and I suspect it will be lifelong. Though speaking of seafood, I would be careful swimming around here, as great white sharks prowl along the shores.
There are ten heritage areas in New York and New England, and all of them protect places frequently described as beautiful, historic and quaint. Growing up in the region, I am biased, but I highly recommend visiting all of them.
Blackstone River Valley NHC, explore the mill towns that defined the Industrial Revolution
Champlain Valley NHP, hike in the canyons of the Adirondacks on this route to Canada
Downeast Maine NHA, catch the first rays of sunrise on the scenic coast of Maine, have tea in Campobello, and learn about the Acadians near St Croix IHS
Erie Canalway NHC, take five looking for a mule named Sal, and sing a few bars
Essex NHA, wander the old streets of Salem past Hawthorne’s house of the seven gables and go see the 17th century Saugus Ironworks
Freedom’s Way NHA, see where the Minute Men fired the shot heard round the world and the small towns where they lived and dreamt revolutionary ideas
The Housatonic River runs down the western edge of Massachusetts through Connecticut, and the heritage area is shared by both states. Connecticut gets the best natural areas—the bogs, fern filled cobbles (hills) and pine forests—and Massachusetts gets the best historic places. My childhood schooling is filled with stories from the Berkshires, so I wanted to revisit The Mount (above) in Lenox Massachusetts most of all. And how much improved it is! But that’s getting far ahead of the story.
The Mohicans lived here first, and before the Revolution, English settlers swapped land with them. Some of the first to learn to speak the native language were missionaries, and Rev John Sergeant’s house in Stockbridge can be visited during the summer. After Independence, the Shakers settled in Pittsfield, and their living history museum is recommended too. The old mill of the company that makes the paper for US currency is in Dalton. Herman Melville and Nathaniel Hawthorne lived and wrote here around 1850, and Melville’s Pittsfield home can be visited too. W.E.B. Du Bois was born and raised in Great Barrington, and there’s a walking tour in addition to his homesite, not far from Simon’s Rock, which has an excellent program dedicated to Du Bois.
Edith Wharton built the Mount in 1902 and wrote many of her most famous books there. Her maiden name was Jones—as in the phrase “keeping up with the Joneses”—and her husband was related to the business school. She had already rebuilt Lands End on the Cliff Walk in Newport RI, making Interior Design a profession when she co-wrote a book about it. Gilded Age women were not supposed to be progressive writers, but Edith Wharton was, becoming the first woman to win a Pulitzer for Fiction in 1921 with The Age of Innocence.
When I visited the Mount as a child, the girls’ equestrian school there had just closed, and the once magnificent home was falling apart. I remember adults being much concerned with marble fireplaces collapsing, whether a Shakespeare company might help save it, or whether it would be demolished for condos. I liked the formal garden but little remained of the famous author who lived there. But thanks to some devoted preservationists, including a collection saved by a book dealer in London, the home and library have been gloriously restored. Highly recommended.
The Hoosier State has a national park, Indiana Dunes, a historic park, Clark, and a national memorial, Lincoln Boyhood, all below, plus the Lewis & Clark NHT runs along the state’s southern edge.
Old Sturbridge Village above in Massachusetts is emblematic of the Valley, which is delightfully wooded, rural and historic with mill villages, museums and natural preserves. In my youth I ran cross country through the area at small traditional New England schools, and I took many field trips to the living history museum pictured. There are old farmhouses, taverns, gardens, barns, gristmills, cider mills, meetinghouses, galleries, shops, pottery, bakeries, crafts and more, all through the valley, dozens of historic sites too. Patriots Clara Barton and Nathan Hale—‘I regret I have but one life to give to my country’—came from this valley. One uncommon benefit of preserving traditions here are the dark skies at night, perfect for star gazing. Much has been lost of the old ways in our sprawling busy modern developments, but not here.
November is Native American Heritage Month, and next week is the 403rd anniversary of the first Thanksgiving feast of the Pilgrims and the Wampanoag, when, as earlier in Jamestown, Native Americans helped starving English colonists. Contrary to the gauzy fabricated myth that natives peacefully welcomed Christian settlers and happily ceded their lands, tribes were decimated by disease and were massacred in both the Pequot War and King Philip’s War. Thanksgiving was first declared a national holiday by Abraham Lincoln during the Civil War, at a time when the US government was also at war with the Apache, Commanche, Navajo, Sioux, Ute and Yavapai, among other tribes. In the interests of truth, this post will focus on the NPS sites of the US War on Native America from the Revolution to 1924.
Our Democracy owes a debt to the Iroquois Confederacy formed 882 years ago, the oldest living participatory democracy. Ben Franklin was a student of Hiawatha’s Law of Peace which united 5 (later 6) tribes on issues affecting them all, while allowing them each to manage their own tribal issues separately. Thus, 13 colonies united to gain independence, becoming the United States. In 1794, George Washington signed the Treaty of Canandaigua recognizing our allies the Oneida, who fought with the Patriots at Fort Stanwix and Saratoga. The other tribes of the Iroquois Confederacy, many having fought for the British, had lost most of their lands in the 1783 Treaty of Paris.
For Native Americans, war with the US continued non-stop, moving northwest near Fallen Timbers and southeast near Chickamauga and Chattanooga. Despite winning the most successful native battle against the US army at the Wabash River, the pattern of natives losing their land regardless of whether they fought or which side they joined continued. The River Raisin set the stage for the War of 1812 and made the issue of claiming native land a mainstay of presidential campaigns. General Jackson leveraged his victory at Horseshoe Bend to become a popular national figure, and as President, he defied the Supreme Court to remove many tribes from the southeast to Oklahoma on the Trail of Tears.
And there were massacres. Not the rare US military defeat like at Little Bighorn. Not the few sensationalized or many fictional stories of natives killing relatively small numbers of white settlers, like at Whitman Mission. But the illegal massacres of hundreds of peaceful villagers by US Army regulars and volunteers at Big Hole above, Sand Creek, and Washita Battlefield, among many others not yet memorialized by the NPS. Even our national monument to great presidents at Mount Rushmore is not far from the massacre site at Wounded Knee.
The US War on Native America is not usually considered as one continuous war, but rather as over 60 different military conflicts, often overlapping, between 1775 and 1924, when the last Apache raid was conducted in the US and when Native Americans finally got the right to vote 100 years ago. However, the US was at war with various Native American tribes in the years from 1775 to 1795, from 1811 to 1815, 1817-1818, in 1823, 1827, 1832 and from 1835 to 1924, or for 121 years of active fighting, plus 29 years of intervening “peaceful” forced removal by the US and state governments, even of tribes which had assimilated. Taken as a whole—including forcing dishonest treaties, abrogating treaties, suspending promised annuities, terminating trading relations, cheating tribes in unfair land deals, preventing private land deals with natives, relocating natives when gold was discovered on their land, revoking Indian land titles, seizing tribal land, annulling tribal constitutions, challenging their rights in court, dismissing their victories in court, dividing tribes, destroying crops, killing livestock, slaughtering bison, subsidizing exodus, rounding up tribal members into camps, locking them in forts, and forced marching them 1,000 miles over 5 months under US military guard—, the US government policy of removing Native Americans by force was a single policy, confirmed by multiple US presidents, passed into laws by Congress, and executed by the US military with deadly force against one group, known collectively as “Indians”—as in the “Indian Removal Act” of 1830—. So, rather than being dismissed as dozens of piecemeal conflicts, the US military actions against all the tribes should be considered as a single 150 year long, genocidal war.
It is horrifying to me that we do not recognize our nation’s longest war, even in the 100th anniversary since its end. We have largely forgotten the roughly 100 tribes that are now extinct, as well as the Pontiac War which used smallpox blankets, the Potawatomi Trail of Death, the Long Walk of the Navajo, the Yavapai Exodus, and others. And we in the United States—founded under a Native American democratic organizing principle and living on native land—do not admit that the long, costly war, devastating relocations and cultural destruction, was repeatedly approved by racist American voters.
“The wounded, the sick, newborn babies, and the old men on the point of death… I saw them embark to cross the great river and the sight will never fade from my memory. Neither sob nor complaint rose from that silent assembly. Their afflictions were of long standing, and they felt them to be irremediable.”
Alexis de Tocqueville, on witnessing the Trail of Tears in Memphis
The 32 mile narrow island park is interspersed with small communities of folks who have taken responsibility for protecting their long and fragile wilderness. Around Watch Hill there’s a salt marsh, home to many birds. Near Sailors Haven, there’s a Sunken Forest of centuries old Holly trees below protected by a double row of dunes. There are beaches, boardwalks, small boat harbors and historic homes within the park too. In 2012, Hurricane Sandy temporarily breached the Fire Island Wilderness, cutting a path from the Atlantic above through the dunes to Long Island Sound. You can cross the Smith Point bridge—while its replacement is being built—at the eastern end of the park and hike in from the Wilderness Visitor Center.
If you’re driving in from NYC, navigation software might direct you across the Robert Moses Causeway to the west end where you can hike to the lighthouse. But be aware that park ‘roads’ are limited to authorized vehicles, and visitors typically arrive via passenger ferry from places like Sayville. After just such a detour, I barely caught the Sunday ferry to Sailors Haven, my last chance to see the Sunken Forest below for a week during the limited fall schedule. Besides a stand in Gateway NRA in Sandy Hook NJ, this is the only grove of its kind in the world, and there’s a lovely boardwalk nature trail to enjoy the trees, birds and scenery.
Just up the hill here past the Port Byron dry-dock/ lock is an old tavern. Maybe that’s why so many locals contracted to build the original canal: everyone knew life would be better with a canal. Once there was a passenger & freight shipping route between New York City and the Great Lakes, cities grew all along the canal. Turns out there have been several versions of the canal, from the original crowd-sourced 4’ deep, the bigger one (above) and the current large barge canal that a local brewery and many other folk still use now.
The canal connects the scenic and historic Hudson Valley to Lake Erie, below the Niagara Escarpment, or ‘from Albany to Buffalo’. I’ve driven the route many times in my electric car and visited the park sites in the heritage area, like Fort Stanwix, Saratoga, Women’s Rights and more, but I ignored the canal. Not because I don’t like it or discount its importance, but because I thought I might do the Great Loop someday and travel the length by boat. Anyway, I finally stopped along the way to chat with the seasonal staff and take a photo. It’s a wonderful 500 mile stretch of Americana. If you didn’t learn the song in Kindergarten, listen to Bruce Springsteen sing it on YouTube.
I’ve got a mule and her name is Sal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal She’s a good old worker and a good old pal Fifteen miles on the Erie Canal
We haul’d some barges in our day Filled with lumber, coal, and hay We know every inch of the way From Albany to Buffalo
Low bridge, everybody down Low bridge, yeah we’re coming to a town And you’ll always know your neighbor And you’ll always know your pal If ya ever navigated on the Erie Canal