Photos: Marblehead

Position: 42° 29’N 70° 51’W

On our way north Carol was a bit under the weather and Tai wasn’t feeling the love of five-foot seas and 20 knot winds. So, we put into Marblehead, the home of sailing in Massachusetts. We moored at the Corinthian Yacht Club, where my uncle Hugh was a member 50 years ago. The harbour has since become so crowded that anchoring is no longer an option. Sadly, the only available mooring buoy lay close to the harbour’s mouth. Weather snuck around the corner and while not as messy as anchoring out, Aleta tugged and pulled at her lines in ways that discomforted the crew. The best thing we did was clamber in our dinghy Nell and head to shore.

Marblehead is always worth visiting. Settled by white folks in 1629 and incorporated in 1649, the town has a long, rich history. Wed to the sea, fishing was its primary economy for two centuries. The Naumkeag people lived in the area until the pilgrims arrived with smallpox. Plagues in 1615 and 1633 devastated the tribe and the history of Massebequash was turned over to the white man.

Washington

Around 150 years later, with the sea in their blood, Marbleheaders, enthusiastically supported the Revolution. Hannah, the first armed American vessel of the war, was a fishing schooner from Marblehead. Hired by George Washington, she ended up as ship one in the United States Navy. So keen were the locals on independence, they rowed the boat Washington took across the Delaware River in December 1776. There is a painting of Washington standing on the banks of the Delaware in Abbot Hall, the home of the Marblehead Historical Commission.

The Revolution took its toll on the population, but the Great Gale of 1846 was almost as deadly. Schooners and fishing smacks worked the Grand Banks handlining vast schools of cod and halibut. On September 19 a ferocious storm crashed over the fleet at 3:00PM, cracking masts and tossing boats to the wind. The storm raged until midnight and by dawn the next day the damage lay clear. Sixty-five men and eleven ships vanished leaving 43 widows and 155 children in their wake. For Marblehead, fishing died that day. The town’s main industry never recovered.

Corinthian

Our uncrowded stroll through the streets took us through the centuries house by house. Plaques tell you how old almost every building is. Some originate in the 17^th century, although you can only imagine their origins, long since buried under years of renovations. The streets are Dickensian with narrow winding curves and settled architectures. There’s not a 90-degree angle to be seen. Hanging baskets bring a splash of colour and a daub of relief to the crowded lots.

Back at the Corinthian I happily caught up with my friend Brad who had recently relocated to the People’s Republic of Massachusetts. We shared a beer and enjoyed our view of the town from the east side of the harbour. In that moment I understood why so many sailors find this place so damned attractive.