I was a corporate brat. I’ve lived in Germany, I’ve lived in Pennsylvania, I’ve lived on the south shore of Boston—my parents and I moved around as they progressed up the ladder . . . But we kept coming back to the Boston area. In fact, we always kept one boat or another here at Kingman Yacht Center. So coming back was, in a lot of ways, like coming home. Read more…
In the winter, believe it or not, some folks stay outdoors while the rest crawl back inside. There’s the surfer who paddles through ice cream headaches to ride empty waves. The runner who primes her lungs for the Boston Marathon while ice thaws under her feet. The fisherman who finds massive fish in frozen ponds. Sure, they wear thicker layers and more of them, but to these three Cape Codders, cold is just a four-letter word.
- Posted in Seasonal: Winter
Riding The Cape's Paddleboard Wave
Bob Babock stood up on a stand-up paddleboard because sometimes it was tough to stand up anywhere else.
In late 2003, Babcock was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor. The subsequent treatment literally left him out of balance. “I was having a hard time even walking sometimes, or driving a car,” says the Carver resident, now 54. “Normal things became very difficult for a while.” Years of doctor-prescribed exercises produced little improvement. Then one autumn day in 2007, Babcock’s older brother, a former windsurfer, arrived with a gift: a stand-up paddleboard. Babcock was a “typical suburban dad,” he says. He had never surfed, but he had a lifelong love of the ocean. And the ocean seemed a better place for rehabilitation than a doctor’s office. Read more…
Where can we find the Cape and Islands at their essence? Step outside, inhale deeply, and look around. It’s right in front of us.
Getting outdoors in the summer is what we wait all year for. In the spring, we fork over paychecks for a Thule rack and fix the dings on the gear in our basement. We cut back on carbs and hit the gym to get the looks and the stamina to enjoy the warmest months. We book the cottage and give thanks for so few snow days piled on to our kids’ school calendar. We count ourselves among the lucky because we found a mooring. Read more…
Scan the footnotes of Theodore Roosevelt’s life story and you’ll find the name Joseph Bucklin Bishop more than once. Bishop was a Roosevelt booster in the editorial pages of New York newspapers, a controversial appointee during the construction of the Panama Canal, the first of many biographers of the 26th president, and editor of the 1920 best-seller Theodore Roosevelt’s Letters to His Children. Read more…
While out on the Titanic expedition in 2010, we had the cable to the robot wrapped around the wreckage, and we had a hurricane bearing down on us. It’s a mathematics problem for an SAT test: We had a hurricane coming at us at 30 miles per hour, and it was 1,000 miles away. We had a two-day run to get into port because we were going 10 miles an hour at best, it takes two and a half hours to get the robot from the bottom back onto the ship, and we had three hours before the captain said we absolutely had to leave the site. The question was, if we couldn’t get the robot unwrapped, do we stay there and join the Titanic because the hurricane sends us to the bottom? Do we pull on the cable and pull up a big chunk of the wreck itself and forever have to live that down? Or do we cut the cable and leave a $5 million system sitting on the bottom of the ocean? Read more…
Dave Gallo wasn’t ordained to become a scientist. And yet youthful explorations of Lake Owasco led to a lifelong interest in the oceans, eventually bringing him face-to-face with the most storied maritime wreckage in modern history. With the 100th anniversary of the Titanic disaster occurring this month, Cape Cod Life spoke with Gallo about the virtues of a career spent looking beneath the surface.
Right out of high school, I sold shoes for seven years because my guidance counselors and teachers said I didn’t have the aptitude to be a scientist. And they were right (laughs). Science is a very rigorous, no-fooling-around world at the top level—you have to be really focused. I was born with ADD. Looking back at some of my report cards, I had these check marks: doesn’t work to ability, talks out of turn, disturbs others (laughs). I was a very poor student in elementary and high school, but I always had this curiosity about science, even though I wasn’t quite sure what a scientist did.
In the August 1976 issue of National Geographic, there was an article by Bob Ballard called “Window on the Earth’s Interior.” That was the first place I had ever heard the words Woods Hole Oceanographic Institution. Something about this article flipped a switch in me and got me curious again. Jeff Fox was a researcher at the State University of New York, which was pretty much across the parking lot from where I was selling shoes, and I took this article over to him. I would ask him something and he would say, “That’s a great question. We don’t know the answer.” That was awesome. I thought the world had been explored completely and that the last real explorers had died in the 1800s. What I was about to find is that most of the world remains unexplored.
In 1987, just as I was finishing my PhD, I got a letter from Bob Ballard asking if I would come to Woods Hole. Bob had found hydrothermal vents in the mid- to late-1970s. He had found Titanic in ’85, explored it in ’86, and he became larger than life. In 1987, I had just accepted a job at the University of Hawaii, which would have been great—my whole young scientific life would have been taken care of. But Bob said, “I don’t know if I can pay you tomorrow. I don’t know what we’ll be doing next month, next year, or the year after. But I can promise that whatever we do, it will be the first time anyone’s ever done it.”
I came here as Assistant Director of the Center for Marine Exploration. Bob Ballard was in the Deep Submergence Laboratory and had something called the Center for Marine Exploration. At the time, we were building robots—the first one was called JASON . . . We did the JASON project in 1989 and the idea was that we could put a robot at the bottom of the ocean and not only have a team on board the surface ship exploring, but through a satellite link, we could tie it into the whole world. That first year, I think we had half a million students following our expeditions in the Mediterranean as we explored ancient shipwrecks.
After I got here, Titanic was always in the background. I began using images from the Titanic in my presentations to the public—it’s easier to explain than eddy viscosity or worms that we find in hydrothermal vents. In 2001, I went out on an expedition with the Russians and the Mir submarines—they were taking tourists out to Titanic, and my job was just to give some lectures. The tradeoff was they allowed us to put cameras on board the subs to collect information about Titanic. I was at the site, but I didn’t dive. Then in 2010, I was asked if I would stand in as expedition leader. We were using brand-new tools—robots, new cameras—and I said sure I’d love to do it. That’s when it really got its hooks in me.
We took the REMUS robots out there along with (research specialist) Bill Lange’s newest cameras, and we were going to make a map. It was new technology, which meant the kinds of information brought back would never have been done before. We made a detailed map of a three-by-five-mile area, we honed into a one-by-one-and-a-half-mile area, then we honed in ever further onto a football-field-sized area.
The sonar picks it up before you get there. Then you see something that’s 50 yards away, then 30, then 20 as you slowly come up to it. The lights are peering out maybe 15 feet or so in front of the robot. Then suddenly, boom, there it is. The hull is this wall in front of you. I get goose bumps now just thinking about it.
The power of Titanic is that 1,500 people died that night, and you start to think of the individual stories—they’re out there for people to read. You look at the boat deck and that’s where people said their goodbyes to their loved ones and friends. It’s a powerful place. There were times inside that command center on board the ship when everyone would suddenly go quiet, and you knew that there was something emotional on the screen. It could be a personal belonging like a doll and you would wonder who that belonged to, who held it last. It could be the boat deck with a lifeboat just hanging there in the darkness of the deep.
The world’s oceans comprise 70 percent of the surface of the planet. When I first came here, we had explored four percent of the world’s oceans. Now we’re up to six or seven percent. And every time we go, we find something surprising. Very often, we find something startling. And on occasion, we find something revolutionary.
We’ve found the world’s greatest mountain range, the Mid-Ocean Ridge, which wraps around the earth like the seams on a baseball for 50,000 miles. Crisscrossing it, we’ve found thousands of valleys that are many, many times wider and deeper than the Grand Canyon. We’ve found the world’s tallest mountain peaks at the bottom of the ocean. We’ve found underwater lakes, underwater rivers, underwater waterfalls. In places where we’ve said there should be no life at all, we’ve found more life than a tropical rainforest. All of these things revolutionized the way we thought about what was going on in the world’s oceans, and that’s in the six or seven percent that we’ve explored. So you have to ask, what’s in the other 93 percent?
- Posted in People
As I mentioned last week, I’m going to be posting bits and pieces that, due to space constraints, didn’t make it into the 2012 Annual Guide. In this outtake, Todd Marcus, brewmaster at Cape Cod Beer, talks about how he cleaned draught lines to get his foot in the door, the brewery’s community-first ethos, and why I shouldn’t have tossed my plastic cup in the trash after a beer tasting.
I usually say I was gathering intelligence along the way (while I was working for Hyannisport Brewing Company). I even went so far as to work part-time for another local business that was involved in draught line cleaning so I could get into these bars and restaurants on the Cape, talk to the managers and bartenders, learn about their draught systems, what worked and didn’t work, what they liked in the beers that were on tap and what they didn’t like. It allowed me some nice ins later on, after Hyannisport Brewing Company closed, when I would say, “Remember when I was here to clean your draught lines and said that I was thinking about opening a brewery some day? Well, here it is, here’s my beer. What do you think?”
Cape Cod Beer started with Red and IPA. Originally, you could only get the IPA if you had the Red on tap. Having the Red and IPA together meant that if a customer tried the IPA and didn’t like it, but they were still somebody who was interested in trying a craft beer, that they’d try the Red and they’d be happy and satisfied with it. To this day, Cape Cod Red still accounts for more than half of our sales.
Recycling is huge for us—it’s a major part of who we are. We typically put out about one big black bag of trash from the brewery every week. Just about everything else from here gets recycled—all of our plastics, all of our metals. To be perfectly honest, I’m going to go pick up that plastic cup you threw in the trash on the way in here and I’m going to put it in the recycling bin. It’s not your fault. It’s just one of the things I’m going to do.
People know that if they’re going to drink our beer, that money they spent is going to stay here on Cape Cod. I’m going to get my paycheck and I’m going to go to the local hardware store, the local jeweler, the local optician. What comes around goes around.
If you look at our brewery’s retail shop—the books, the candles, the coffee, all that stuff—75 cents of every dollar we spent on retail items last year went to someone on Cape Cod. Now, nobody on Cape Cod is combing cotton to make a T-shirt obviously, but at the very least we’re using local screenprinters, local embroiderers, and as many locally sourced items as we can. We’re a great tourist destination, and we’re trying to help these cottage industries by giving them an outlet. We want to say, “We appreciate what you’re doing, trying to live here and enjoy what Cape Cod has to offer, and that you’re trying to make a living doing what you love as well.” Hopefully, as a result, those people are drinking Cape Cod Beer.
To me, the 152 pages of this year’s Cape Cod Life Annual Guide represent a lot of effort. After countless hours of research, talking, and transcription, the best part of the endeavor is holding a copy in my hand for the first time. The worst part comes a little before that. Read more…