Ships and sails and puppy dog tails—these are things Michael loves, at least for as long as I’ve known him, which is quite a while. So, when we decided to journey to Plymouth and spend the month, Mystic Seaport Village was on the top of his list of places to see.
Captain Daniel Packer Inn
We leave early and arrive in time for lunch. And since we are in historic New England, I try to eat in the oldest restaurant I can find—preferably a tavern, and today, preferable means near the water and our ultimate destination Mystic Seaport Village.
Thanks to help from 21st century technology I meet with success almost every time I ask Google for help. Today is no exception, and we pull up to the 250-year-old Captain Daniel Packer Inne minutes after they open for business. It is no surprise that we are almost the first customers to walk through their doors this day.
Since we have our pick of tables, I opt for a cozy, age-scarred, wooden booth in a corner, tucked away in back of the ancient fireplace. A mural of ships and sails adorns the wall beside us, and a giant wood log, positioned just above Michael’s head, is tucked into the stone fireplace. I can’t quite figure out why, because its large square end is all I see. The front of the fireplace is unusual to say the least with it’s closed black iron shield and its pieced together mantel.
Both of us are almost past starved with no breakfast in our tummies and order a sliced, crusty, warm baguette with roasted garlic and butter while we wait for our seafood entrees. I forgot about serving bread this way, I haven’t done it since we moved to Wimberley. It must go on my list of things to serve at home. A tiny bit of Maldon salt would make it heaven.
While Michael opts for decadent Lobster Mac & Cheese (a version of its origins thought to be from Thomas Keller’s French Laundry), I try for the slightly new age healthier, lighter salmon fillet garnished with crispy salmon skin, a sweet potato cake, and green beans . We both clean our plates.
Mystic Seaport Museum
Today the weather is perfect, and the crowds that would normally be walking the streets of this quaint living museum of a seaport village are pretty much nil; one of the very good reasons for traveling off-season.
Making our way toward the water and sailing ships we pass by a grid of wood where cod is drying in the sun—no fake fish here, but very real specimens that smell of the sea.
The sixteen acres where Mystic Seaport Village sits, contains every type shop or business associated with building ships, maintaining ships, living, eating, banking, education, and…
Michael mentions, “This is another one of those places that will take a week of constant exploring.” Which of course we don’t have.
We stop by an old building housing a scale model diorama of what Mystic Seaport looked like in 1870. It is over 50-feet long and contains 250 detailed dwellings, shops, barns and lofts, as well as five local shipyards. Whoever and however many people it took to build this tiny replica of Mystic I’ll never know, but I strongly suspect they had a huge amount of fun creating it.
One of the buildings here is dedicated to figure heads, and those on display are wonderful to behold. Always believing a ship’s figurehead was supposed to be of the female persuasion I find out differently as I sit and stare and read. They are all works of art. Many abandoned and rescued from wreckage that occurred on these shores and other places in the world, centuries ago.
We visit so many businesses, demonstrating so many things that are needed for a ship—including a blacksmith shop. That makes two blacksmith shops in three days! But the objects that they fire and beat and shape are for entirely different needs.
Sails
Stopping at a building that houses a sail-maker and sail repair shop, after examining some of the ships block and tackles on the first floor, Michael walks upstairs. Of course. I follow.
There is a teeny tiny area for spectators to stand and watch two sail-makers at work. Michael is impressed by how slow the electric machine seems to be sewing. (Michael makes his own sails for his tiny model ships that decorate the walls in our stairwell, and sometimes the sewing machine runs away with the cloth.) The sail-maker stops his work and comes to talk sails and machines and clutches and gears. He and Michael form a bond and the conversation veers in other directions. A volunteer for at least a decade he used to be in charge of a hospital emergency room—sewing up people instead of sails. His volunteer job is a natural progression—of sorts.
The Charles W. Morgan – A National Historic Landmark
The 106-foot 11-inch (not counting the bowsprit) whaling ship is across from the sail shop. The Charles W. Morgan is the last of a whaling fleet that numbered 2,700 vessels; and with the exception of the USS Constitution, she is the oldest commercial sailing ship still afloat. Launched in 1841 she had an 80-year whaling career, making 37 voyages all over the world, most lasting 3-4 years. Obviously some lasted much less. There is no question of if we are going to visit the Morgan. When and how long that visit will last is the real question.
Climbing aboard, we spend the next hour exploring its wonders. We meet a wiry young man who looks like he spends his life in the sun, on the sea. And he pretty much does.
This young man fell in love with ships and sea as he sat reading Moby Dick on the deck of this very vessel. As a result of that book, working at Mystic Seaport Village for the last 30 years, mostly on the Morgan, is his life’s passion and vocation. He was also a part of the ships crew when the Morgan was relaunched after its $10,000,000 restoration. Listening, as he explains how he climbed to the tip top of the highest mast while it was under sail, my knees grow weak.
Blocks and Tackles
He explains why a block we saw in the sail shop is so gigantic. Apparently, they are used to help tip the ship over. Out loud, I wonder why; discovering it is to clean the hulls of all the things that attach themselves to a ships bottom. Like barnacles.
We tour everything from stem to stern both on the deck and below. We hear many stories, until finally looking at Michael’s watch we determine it is time to walk on. Making one more stop at the whaling museum, our final destination is the Mayflower II.
In case you are wondering, a block and tackle is a system of two or more pulleys with a rope or cable threaded between them. Usually used to lift heavy loads. The pulleys are assembled together to form blocks. Tn blocks are paired so that one is fixed and one moves with the load.
The Whaling Museum
The second floor of the whaling museum is full of model ships and ship interiors. The model ships are amazing. Because I’ve watched Michael as he creates these tiny masterpieces, I know how very much work and how many hours have gone into completing each one.
I see a clipper ship that looks like real blocks of copper sheeting are on the hull. I tell Michael they must have painted each square to make it look real. Soon a docent is at my elbow, setting me straight. Real Copper. Real tiny pieces. Expertly placed. Michael lets me know he’s not that big a masochist, he will continue to use copper paint. I bet he won’t. BTW, in case you were wondering, barnacles don’t like copper; they can’t stick to that surface.
The Mayflower
We make our way to the shipyard portion of the living museum. It looks like the Mayflower II, after years of restoration, is ready to set sail. She is bright and spanking new and ready to celebrate the 400th anniversary of the Pilgrims arrival in the New World, next year in 2020.
A Lighthouse
Slipping into my side of the car Michael lets me know he wants to visit a nearby lighthouse in Stonington. Then we will head back to Plymouth. He plans to use his nose to get us there. I plan to help the hunt with Google Maps. Thank goodness, because the lighthouse is well hidden.
Made of rock it is one the most unusual lighthouses we have ever seen. While Michael snaps pictures of his other favorite thing, I snap pictures of a perfect seaside cottage—one of my favorite things.
Driving out of Stonington, it looks like a place to fall in love with. My advice to anyone who wants to visit Mystic would be to hang their hat in this tiny, charming, quaint, un-touristy town. I would—if they had a house or apartment to rent and I could stay awhile.
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