Nantucket: It Truly is a State of Mind

Recently, I took advantage of a special FAM trip to Nantucket sponsored by the Steamship Authority, which offers fast ferry service to the island. The day dawned bright and sunny, but unseasonably cool for spring on Cape Cod and with the threat of afternoon showers. Undaunted, I grabbed my windbreaker and headed down Route 6A, the Old King’s Highway, to pick up my friends Helen and Mary for our date with the 11:00 AM fast ferry.

Nantucket, many say, is a state of mind, and having lived there briefly between college graduation and my first teaching position many years ago, I must concur. There is something about the light, the rustle of leaves against the cobblestones, and the wind that whips the sails in the boat basin that envelopes your soul in a dreamlike reverie. It haunts you when you leave and embraces you when you return, as you undoubtedly will after your first visit.

The name, of Native American origin, means faraway island, and so it is, yet still readily accessible, so that even a daytrip is worthwhile. The trip from Hyannis is a little more than an hour by high-speed ferry and only 15 minutes by air. I particularly enjoy arriving by ferry and seeing the whole town come into view as the vessel rounds the lighthouse at Brant Point and enters the harbor. At approximately 3.5 miles deep and 14 miles wide, the island is smaller than Martha’s Vineyard and just a bit larger than Manhattan. More than 12,000 acres (almost 40 percent of the island) are protected from development, which is a fact that is much appreciated by the nearly 7,000 year-round inhabitants. When the “summer folk” arrive after Memorial Day the population swells to more than 50,000.

It was smooth sailing across the Atlantic to Nantucket Town, where we were greeted by Chester Barrett, a native islander with a gift for gab. Chester is a septuagenarian character with a New England twang and a fondness for his ancestral home that is infectious. He took us around the island in his comfortable 30-passenger tour bus and regaled us with humorous anecdotes about windmills, cranberry bogs, and whaling captains in a delightful 90-minute circumnavigation of the “Gray Lady”, Nantucket’s nickname.

After our tour, we walked the cobbled streets of downtown Nantucket, admiring the storefronts and serene nature of this fabled island situated just 30 miles offshore. A few hardy local proprietors were readying their shops in anticipation of the hustle bustle that the upcoming “season” will bring.

Nantucket is the only place in the United States that is a town, a county, and an island, and in its entirety, both a State Historic District and a National Historic Landmark. It is a place where nearly half the land is held in conservation, and there are no stoplights, shopping malls, or fast-food franchises. Instead, there are cobblestoned streets and brick

walkways where locals stop to chat and everyone seems to know your name. It doesn’t take long to feel at home here.

Sadly, our day came to an end much as it began, with a trip aboard the MV Iyanough.  But, I am hopeful as the ferry rounds Brant Point on the return to “America”, as Chester referred to the land across the sound. Hopeful that the daffodils waving their lovely heads signal the advent of spring; that the contentment I feel from a day well spent will endure; and that Nantucket will be waiting for me whenever I am able to return.

Cape Cod Cranberries

As we rounded the corner on our favorite route back from Sesuit Harbor in Dennis this fall, Rich and I happened upon a cranberry bog in full harvest. It was one of those rare October days when the sky is impossibly blue, the sun warm, and the primary colors of summer softly waning autumnal. There in the midst of the bog the thrashers were churning slowly back and forth shaking the berries loose. Floating gently on the surface of the water, the fruit glistened in the bright sunshine. A brisk wind guided them slowly towards the edge of the bog. Armed with his brand new SLR camera, Rich felt as if he had hit the motherload of photo ops.

We spent over an hour watching the harvest, talking with the farmers, and taking pictures knowing that our guests would be interested in learning as much as we could share with them about the humble cranberry. So, here in a nutshell, is our newfound wealth of knowledge about Cape Cod cranberries and harvesting.

Famous for its tartness and beautiful color, the cranberry is an essential part of Thanksgiving, as well as Cape Cod’s namesake cocktail. Cranberries are big business here on Cape Cod as well as many parts of southeastern Massachusetts. The cranberry industry in Massachusetts does about $200 million in revenue annually and employs 5,600 people. One tenth of the cranberries grown in the state are grown here on Cape Cod. The world-famous Ocean Spray factory is located in Plymouth and has tours for the public.

Native Americans living on the cool, northern areas of North America showed early settlers how to pick the ibimi (their word) which grew wild in bogs. The settlers called them “Crane-berries” because their blossoms resembled the heads of cranes, and the berries were a valuable source of vitamin C, used by sailors to prevent scurvy The tart-tasting cranberry rendered the drab, gamey diet of colonial people palatable in the winter months.

Because cranberries require constant moisture, a bog, which is a spongy, low lying wetland that holds water and is full of ancient decayed vegetation, makes a fertile and moist natural habitat for cranberries. Water draining from adjoining ponds and lakes provides protection against frost for the young vines, which begin their annual cycle in early spring.

Today, commercial growers create bogs from appropriate areas by scraping off top brush, replacing it with sand, and planting young vines. The cranberries are ripe for harvest September through October. There are two ways to harvest cranberries: dry and wet. In a dry harvest, a machine that also trims the plants is rolled along the bogs, collecting berries, which are stored in large crates Then a helicopter lifts the crates off the bogs so as not to damage next year’s buds, which are already forming.

In a wet harvest, the bogs are flooded. A wide-tired machine called a water reel moves through the bog and beats the water, knocking the berries off the vines. Then, workers assemble miles of yellow tubing, called a boom, that corrals the berries into a conveyer belt .

While on your visit here, try some of the many products made with cranberries and/or observe a cranberry harvest. The Cranberry Harvest Festival in Harwich, usually held in mid-September, is a week-long celebration of this humble but tasty fruit, including food booths, music, crafts, a pancake breakfast, and fireworks. Here at the high Pointe Inn we serve Cranberry Vanilla jam made by the Chatham Jam and Jelly Shop in season. It is perfect with Rich’s homemade popovers and biscuits.

Fascinating Factoids

•    Each acre of planted cranberries, in accordance with Massachusetts law, must be surrounded by four acres of wetlands.
•    The variety grown by most growers on the Cape is early black, which although is it the most costly and difficult variety to grow, provides a rich, dark color to the juice.
•    Cranberries are also grown in Washington, Oregon, Wisconsin, and New Jersey.