Roger Williams University ... a good university in a great location with a very nice dock. That should be their motto if you ask me ... just say it in latin and it will sound like the wisdom of the ages instead of the blurting of a scenery junkie like me. I skulked around the campus in my mini van, ogling coeds and looking for a likely spot to shoot a picture that would include the Mount Hope Bridge. I eventually found a road that led down to the water's edge through a grove of trees where the University's sailboats lay waiting for young sailors to man them. I did find that view of the bridge and the dock that you can see here.
Pomham Rocks Lighthouse is about as cute as they get. It is currently owned by Exxon but they've been good corporate citizens and have let the "Friends of Pomham Rocks Lighthouse" come out and spend huge amounts of money and effort to get the outside restored. They have plans to eventually purchase the lighthouse and run it as a bed and breakfast much as Rowes Island is run.
I don't know about you but I'm glad that lighthouses have friends. They look so lonely out there all alone and after a few decades of salt water and storms they really need a few friends to get them spruced back up. Here's a link to a website all about Lighthouses and their friends. There are many of lighthouses and all or most of them have friends but the page I'm sending you to is all about Pomham Rocks. http://www.lighthousefriends.com/light.asp?ID=683
The tour's not over! We took 4 panoramas while we were out there and have already processed two of them. The other one is from the tower itself. You can go to the next blog entry to find it or you can follow the little white arrow that appears in this one. Have fun.
Battleship Cove in Narragansett Bay We took this photo in early August of 2009. We'd taken several shots of Battleship Cove before but decided it was a good idea to return to Fall River's premier tourist location when the leaves were out and the grass a brilliant green. We also decided to make it into an opportunity to use our "big rig." The big rig is our 40' tripod equipped with a robotic mount and a wireless communication device. Chris ran the robot for this shot. You can even see him down on the boardwalk sitting on a bench in a straw hat with a computer in his lap. He's the man behind the curtain here ... a true wizard of the photographic world.
Some times things fall into place quickly. We'd like to think that that means they were supposed to happen or that some heavenly force is at work directing our steps. I don't know about that but it is nice to think so and sometimes things do fall into place with a rapidity that makes them seem heaven sent. They certainly did for us recently in our quest for great images in the Narragansett Bay area.
We passed the large wind turbine that has recently been erected by the town of Portsmouth on Aquidneck Island. It occurred to us that a shot from the top would help us live up to the aerial part of our name and that it would very likely be quite spectacular. I poked around the website for the town of Portsmouth and eventually found the email and name of a man who I could contact about the possibility of getting up to the top. He responded in short order and with some enthusiasm for our work and for the idea of taking a panorama from the top. He didn't hold out much hope about getting to the top however as the company that erected it still controls access and they haven't been very cooperative of late. Our idea of taking a photo from the top of a turbine was quickly tied up in a combination of governmental red tape and corporate ill will. It turns out that they're being sued by every contractor who worked on the job but more on that later.
It took a few days to dawn on me that the Portsmouth turbine is not the only turbine on Aquidneck Island. The first turbine was erected at the Abbey School, also in Portsmouth. An email to someone in the administration earned me a response from Brother Joseph. Brother Joseph teaches at the school and has been an integral part of the turbine's existence since it appeared above his head like a light bulb signaling a good idea years ago. He interviewed all of the neighbors. He asked for and evaluated bids. He "did the math" and found the funding. He watched it go up and start turning and he's been speaking about it ever since on behalf of the school.
There's a lot of good things to say. It's only been in operation in light winds for about 3 years and yet it has nearly paid back the initial investment on the part of the school. That includes some substantial grant money but no tax breaks since the school is a non profit. Without the grant the payback period would have been extended a couple of years. With a payback period of 3-5 years and an expected life of 25 years and the current value of the electricity generated at something like $200k per anum ... the book keepers are happy.
Drawbacks? Are there scads of people in the area coming down with the mysterious "turbine syndrome?" No. Noise? A pleasant swish swish. Sub Aural Noise? No one can hear it. That's what sub aural means. If a herd of elephants were passing through the area there might be a problem with sub aural noise but none have appeared of late. Are their dozens of students running around the base of the turbine with crazed looks in their eyes saying "the blades! ... please stop the blades!!" No. None of that. Drawbacks seem to amount to the fact that there are a few houses and a few buildings on campus that in the right wind and atmospheric conditions get the shadows of the blades passing their windows ... that's annoying but only for short periods of time. Don't forget: the shadow is moving. It doesn't show up on cloudy days. It disappears when the turbine turns sideways to the sun. I don't know if the whole neighborhood turns to the turbine each morning and sends a silent blessing to Br. Joseph and what he's done for green energy in Rhode Island but on the whole it seems to be thought of as a good thing.
Brother Joseph liked the idea of a high definition panorama taken from the top of his turbine. He often has to climb it but can't share the magnificent view with too many people because of safety concerns. Now with the panorama he can. We had to wait for over a week for the weather to clear in the aftermath of Hurricane Bill. The week of August 24th began with some clear air but a lot of wind. Finally, on Thursday, the wind died and the sun came out and sky turned blue from horizon to horizon. We had our window of opportunity! Three of us strapped on our safety harnesses and made the 170' climb to the nacelle of the turbine. Brother Joseph assured us that we'd just joined a select group of people that had been allowed to make the climb. We certainly felt lucky to be that high in sky.
When our pulses had returned to normal Chris took the equipment from the bag that had been hoisted to the top from the rear of the nacelle. He had it all functioning in fairly short order and Brother Joseph and I climbed out onto the roof to place the camera and its robotic mount on top. The wind was so light that we didn't even anchor it down. Chris hit the trigger. The mount spun. The camera clicked and we had our panorama. Our hope is that it'll find it's way into one of Br. Joseph's powerpoint presentations and will be projected onto the wall in front of a series of enthusiastic audiences that are interested in sharing this part of Brother Joseph's journey. What very few of them can do in reality, they can all do virtually from the safety of their chair while they learn about the ins and outs of erecting wind turbines.
There's a bumper sticker that's current in Westport, Massachusetts that reads "Welcome to Westport - Now go Home." It was quoted to us by a friendly couple made curious by the oversized tripod we'd set up in front of the Harbormaster's shack at Westport Point. They smiled as they said it. They probably smile as they say it to the people who come to visit them in their summer cottage. It's not exactly a friendly thing to say but it is humorous and not entirely unfriendly depending on how it's delivered. Mostly it speaks to the truth of Westport's great natural (and for the most part) uncrowded beauty and the fact that people who've learned to enjoy it hope against hope to keep it that way. This couple had the look of summer residents. Let's hope that year round residents smile as they say it to couples like this one who come to stay during the summer. We like to think of people smiling.
There's quite a few strata in Westportian society. They don't always smile at eachother. They don't often mix at all except at town meetings and then they're sharing space and not really mixing. There are the full time working residents of Westport. They fish and farm and serve you food in restaurants which is not to say there aren't a few lawyers, doctors and financiers among them. Mostly, they build their nests for year 'round residence and send their kids to school.
Then there are the summer residents that keep second homes there and those who've even retired and decided to make it their first home. They have lots of money by local standards and generally don't have kids to put through local schools. Their kids are off at Andover or Princeton or Geneva International Boarding School for Children of the Rich and Well Monied.
Finally, there are the tourists that pack the inns and hotels or wrangle a room in a relative's cottage. The groups and their concerns are different. Go figure. They don't always get along and things get heated in the local political arena. You probably don't need to know all of that though if you're packing your bags in preparation for a visit there. It's just a backdrop. Come let the sun warm your skin and buy one of those bumper stickers if it makes you laugh.
Our visit to the working harbor at Westport Point had its genesis years ago. My wife lived there and was at least a temporary member of the local residents tribe though she never got the secret tattoo. I've often suspected her of lifetime membership. I've seen the wistful looks when we visit so I've looked everywhere for the tattoo and failed to find it. It's not there "on the flesh" but it may be buried somewhere deeper. We married at the church up the road from the harbor and had our rehearsal dinner at the Paquachuck Inn which figures quite nicely in the photo. She lived for years in the little apartment in the harbormaster's house just up the road. The tidy little shack in the foreground is where he conducts his business to this day. (www.westport-ma.com/harbormaster)
It's just a shack though, go full screen and spin around to the south. The stars of the show are the fishing boats. You'll find them in every size and shape, tailored to their use and done up in rich shades of red and green. Feel the warm sun on your face. Feel the welcoming breeze on your skin .... and then .... go home!
We haven't told you enough of the story of Save the Bay's assault on Gooseneck Cove. It's not just about one new culvert on Ocean Ave. It's a good deal more. There were three major obstacles to tidal flow in Gooseneck Cove: Ocean Ave and its inadequate culvert to Fishermen's Cove, a dam about halfway back and Hazard Road with no culvert at all near the back of the cove. Save the Bay took care of all three obstacles during their renovation project.
Part of the credit goes to the town of Newport. Newport realized that they could shorten emergency response times to part of their town by improving Hazard road in order to allow the safe passage of emergency vehicles. Instead of strangling STB's efforts with red tape, Newport picked up part of the cost to raise and pave the road in question, adding the culvert to improve tidal flow as a matter of course. Now the salt water courses in under Hazard Road, carrying seaweed, crabs and the occasional soggy politician pointing out the benefits of cooperation as he passes. You have to stand up and cheer when bureaucracies and organizations do smart things. So often they don't and leave the common man scratching his head in disbelief.
So, with more of the story to tell with our pictures, we went back to a location on the west side of Hazard Road near the new culvert to take a photograph that would show the area most affected by the project, ie. the area most relieved of the invasive phragmites grass "downstream" (from the standpoint of the incoming tide) of Hazard Road. We arrived at our spot at 8am on a Saturday morning. Low tide had occurred around 5am. High tide was due in at 11. My efforts at setting up the tripod were slightly hampered by our soggy location. Our endpoint in time loomed. The tide was going to get our feet wet within the hour. Chris booted his pc and switched on all the equipment that allow the camera to talk to the computer.
When everything was communicating I lifted the camera and its mount into place on the tripod and began to hoist. In my haste, I nearly overhoisted. The camera and its mount teetered dangerously towards the marsh with two of the poles nested only an inch or so. Chris gasped and my adrenaline responded in time to correct the situation without mishap.... note to self: add warning stripe of red paint to show limit of travel.
With the camera 30' up and stable despite the slight breeze, Chris began the automated process controlled by our software friend "Pappy Wizard." The mount moved and then stalled. The furrows on Chris' brow deepened. The camera came down. A few switches were flipped. The camera went up and he restarted the process. Pappy wasn't happy and we didn't know why. Pappy is young. He can't always tell us where it hurts and sometimes collapses in a heap without warning. Even a short nap in the way of a restart doesn't always help.
The tide came rushing in, cheered by all onlookers. We broke down our equipment and packed it away without really knowing if we had all of the images we'd need to create a panorama. You know we did because you see it above with all of the fascinating shapes and colors that flowing water, sand and marsh grasses can create.
With the equipment packed away we had time to chat with the natives. Jack Kelly surfaced as our insider's guide to Gooseneck Cove. He filled our ears with facts about what had transpired here, many of which found their way into this blog entry. He informed us of the presence of a Yellow Throated Night Heron down the road. Chris replies that his father's favorite bird had always been the Rosy Breasted Pushover. Clearly a friend to humans, many of Jack's friends now wear feathers and fur. He comes to the cove to feel his stress go out with the tide and points out the blue crab stalking its prey near the culvert's exit. Jack takes pictures and uses them to tell the tale of "Larry the Buck." While the big bucks crash heads, Larry sneaks in and finds out he's just what the doe was looking for, a lesson that can be applied to life, love and the pursuit of business if you care to.
Fisherman's Cove is idyllic. On the list of New England's most idyllic places, there's maybe Rockport, Massachusetts and then Fisherman's Cove in Newport and then, I don't know, your grandmother's cottage in East Sandwich. Fisherman's Cove has fishermen and their boats to start with: authentic fishermen fresh off their authentic boats and they'll show off their authentic harvest of striped bass if you ask them nicely. There's also plenty of rocks. It wouldn't really be a New England shoreline scene without them. So rocks are essential and this place has them. They're craggy and black and the seaweed clings to them like their little seaweed lives depend on it and it probably does. There's a road curving idyllically by it and summer houses perched like sentinels anywhere the land rises high enough to afford a view or enough height above sea level to avoid the highest of high tides. Fishermen's Cove is idyllic and I'm really wasting my time and yours trying to describe just how idyllic because if a picture is worth a thousand words then the high definition spherical panorama above is worth well over 10 million.
When we took this photograph, we'd just finished taking a similar one a few hundred yards away, across the road in Gooseneck Cove. Gooseneck Cove is not quite as high on the idyllic meter as Fishermen's. It lacks those authentic fishermen for one thing. They can't get their authentic boats into it because despite the fact that the two coves are connected by water, the water flows through two culverts and their boats don't fit through them. Imagine it this way: the open ocean (open at least until you run into Long Island) connected to Fishermen's Cove connected to Gooseneck Cove.
I mention the culverts because they're really important as culverts go. These culverts, especially the new one which affords a more direct line for water to travel between the two coves is so important that important people like Senator Jack Reed of Rhode Island know all about it. He could probably describe in some detail the impact that this particular culvert is having on the ecosystem of this particular cove, not because he's an expert on such matters but because he was recently involved in creating the political will and financial wherewithal to bring this particular culvert into existence. It's an important culvert.
The idea to add this culvert came from one of the world's most successful environmental organizations, Rhode Island's own Save the Bay. They rock as environmental orgs go. They bend the ears and twist the arms of people like Senator Jack Reed for one and call it advocacy for one. They take school children out on the bay and dump live sea critters into their laps and call it education for another. As if that's not enough, they spend a great deal of effort planting eelgrass and monitoring its return in places like Gooseneck Cove and call it restoration. They really should be describing their three pronged approach to saving the bay themselves. Visit their website and let them tell you all about it .... but back to the story of our new culvert.
Why a new culvert? Not to put too fine a scientific point on it, the culvert lets in more sea water. The sea water makes life uncomfortable for the invasive phragmites grass choking the cove. Phragmites slowly turns the cove from a thriving complex ecosystem into a wet equivalent of a cornfield, pretty and green and consisting only of grass and a few red winged blackbirds. Build a culvert. The salt water enters. The phragmites goes away. The eelgrass come back with a little help from Save the Bay and their happy legions of eelgrass volunteers and before you know it all of the little creatures that like to live in eelgrass come back as well. Job done! Cove restored! Fishermen, tourists and photographers flock and Senator Jack Reed runs for reelection on an environmental platform.
Blithewold ... it means "pretty wood" in old english and it's an apt name for a beautiful home by the sea, built in Bristol, RI around the turn of the century by the Van Wickles. The Van Wickles didn't just have a cute name and lots of money. They had great taste in architecture and a real fascination for horticulture. We've attempted to capture both in a series of panoramas we've done of their house and grounds. Our virtual tour starts at the front of the house in the panorama I've embedded in the page above and continues to the veranda in the back of the house and the sweep of grounds down to the sea. Try the "full screen" option and then use the thumbnails which will appear at the bottom of the image to move on to the view of the frog pond and the daffodils in the woods.
You'll like the creation of the Van Wickles, we can assure you. They were good people. Money didn't rot their souls and turn them into mean hearted Scrooges. It enabled their spirits to capture and create beauty. It's not just my fanciful imagination. It's on the books ... or in this case on the website ... all in one telling factoid from their history page. The mansion you see today is the second of two. The first one burnt to the ground in 1906, only 10 years after it was built. It was a slow moving fire that they were apparently powerless to stop. The telling part ... many of the people of Bristol were there trying to help. When they realized they couldn't stop the fire they decided to save as many of the furnishings as they could, "even fireplaces and bathtubs." Now I ask you, would you get up in the middle of the night to risk your life carrying some rich person's bathtub down the stairs of their burning mansion if you didn't like them? The VanWickles obviously inspired some degree of devotion in the good people of Bristol.
The good news is that the devotion is alive and well today. The house and grounds are cared for by a lean non profit organization that has weathered several financial storms in their quest to keep the Van Wickle's dream alive. They direct the efforts of over 200 dedicated volunteers who work on the house and grounds. They oversee a membership of over 1300 and an endowment of 3.2 million. Most importantly, they've succeeded in sharing the beauty that the VanWickles created with over 35,000 visitors each year! We think you'd do yourself a favor if you decide to be one of them. For more information you should visit their website at www.blithewold.org.
We took a sail last weekend from the beach in Swansea and the wind took us to Fall River and the opportunity to take this series of photographs of the Borden Flats Light. They're arranged in a "photosynth" which will slide you from one photo to another in slideshow fasion. The Borden Flats Lighthouse has been warning ships of underwater hazards where Mount Hope Bay meets the Taunton River since 1875, and doing it well by all accounts. It's not much to look at but hey, it is a lighthouse and I have to tell you that I like living in a town with a lighthouse.
I also like living in a town where I can hear seagulls. Most towns just have pigeons, which is not to denigrate pigeons at all. Pigeons are great. Get in close to a pidgeon some time and admire the way the purple sheen gives way to green and moves on to handsome patterns of gray and black. Better yet, watch a boy pidgeon cuddle up to a girl and do his dance. You have to love a bird that puffs out his chest and goes about the serious business of wooing his mate with a dance. Can you tell I don't have much to say about lighthouses?
Before I forget let me send you somewhere where people have plenty to say about lighthouses, try www.lighthousefriends.com or click here to visit their page about Fall River's very own lighthouse. Those people know lighthouses. Those people have lighthouses as friends. They might do better with something warm and cuddly like a pigeon if you ask me, but they've made their choice and are proud to tell the world that they are "friends of lighthouses." Read their site. You'll know plenty about lighthouses when you're through, enough to pass as an old salt in your average conversation at a bar anyway. You may need to buy your victim a few (say ten) beers first but you'll pass. You may annoy them if they've decided they'd rather befriend a pigeon than a lighthouse but when you're through they'll know more about them than when you started ... ok ... I'm down this road far enough. You'll just have to visit a bar for yourself and see how it goes.
But about the sea gulls. They're almost as good as lighthouses to let you know you're near the sea. Not quite as good though. I mean, you can find a seagull in the parking lot of a McDonalds eating french fries and there's not an ocean in site. But if you see a lighthouse you're going to see water so that makes them a better ocean indicator. But gulls are a close second and their cries are pure poetry. Prove it to yourself. Do a google search on "seagull poetry" and see if you don't get a few hits. Now gulls have their detractors. We all do. Some people call gulls the rats of the sea but they shouldn't. They should take a long slow look at a seagull and see if they've any grounds whatsoever for comparing it to a rat. The seagull is one pretty bird seen up close and that's more than you can say about any rat.
They do like to eat though. I used to take my son down to the waterfront in Fall River to feed the sea gulls. The pigeons would show up too. That was before some tight ass put up a sign about not feeding the birds down at the waterfront. Someone never watched Mary Poppins. Someone needs to feed a pigeon and perhaps fly a kite. I haven't fed them lately. It's not that I'd let some tight ass wearing the thin cloak of civil authority ruin any fun I intended to have feeding sea gulls but I haven't done it lately. But I did ... before the sign.
My son was only two at the time. He was delighted when the first sea gull arrived to eat the bit of popcorn he'd thrown. He loved it when the gulls and the pigeons raced in. He grew alarmed when the pigeons and the gulls swarmed around him like rats ... oops.... not like rats ... more like hungry puppies. That's better. They swarmed around us like hungry puppies and I had to pick him up. We fed them together and let them land on our arms and fan our faces. It was memorable. I don't do it every day but every day I thank my lucky stars that I live in a town where I can see, hear and ... if no one officious is looking .... even feed a sea gull. Now that's living in my book.
More than one photographer has found this spot just south of the Braga Bridge on the Swansea side. It offers a view of 3 area bridges: Braga, Mount Hope and Bristol. The "city of hills and mills" lies just opposite and close enough to pick out the steeples of St. Mary's and St. Annes. In the foreground lies a mysterious shipwreck. Low tide makes it obvious that this was one hell of a ship. A little research reveals that they belong to the City of Taunton. She was one of the last and greatest of the Fall River Line ferries. Her ribs have been rotting on that stony beach just south of the Braga Bridge since the 1930's. For over 60 years, the Fall River Line offered travel between Boston and New York luxurious enough for royalty but inexpensive enough to offer the common man an uncommon chance to experience true luxury.
The City of Taunton was a great ship in a great line of ships but its days were numbered when they built a bridge in New London and then a canal on Cape Cod. The bridge enabled a less expensive all rail connection between New York and Boston. The Canal made ship travel between the two cities more practical since ships no longer had to round the Cape. Both spelled the end for the Fall River Line. When things got bad enough apparently they beached the great ship in Swansea and let it rot.
That's an ignominious end for a ship. Great ships shouldn't just sink into the muck. They should go down mid Atlantic with bands playing and be discovered by Bob Ballard decades later with his diving robots. Nothing in the tale of the City of Taunton was titanic in nature but she did survive two close brushes with disaster before market forces beached her in the 30's. She struck another Fall River Line ferry named the City of Plymouth somewhere in Long Island Sound. They struck just after midnight, March 21, 1903 in a fog that limited visibility to under 100 feet. The City of Plymouth had enough time to throw its engines into full reverse but the impact still damaged both ships severely. They towed the City of Taunton into New London for repair without any loss of life. The City of Plymouth made it into port as well but suffered more serious damage and the loss of 4 seamen and a passenger to drowning.
That wasn't the last near disaster for the City of Taunton. In 1910 she broke one of her intake pipes and water poured into her so fast that the captain despaired of reaching the closest port before she sank. He did and she didn't. She spent another 2 decades plying the waters of Long Island sound before she ended up on the beach in Swansea. I wish there was more to tell about Swansea's very own shipwreck ... tales of romance and jewels, young women made to feel beautiful by rakish young artists shortly before collisions with icebergs but one at least catches the whiff of a bygone era there between the ribs of the City of Taunton.
This is the blog of Aerial Vr (www.aerialvr.com). We create virtual reality photographs for viewing on the web. We also send our cameras into the sky on a variety of kites and blimps to see the world from a bird's eye view. We're blogging about our experiences as this exciting new technology and the market around it develops. We're also dedicated to developing a resource for visitors to the Narragansett Bay & Southcoast areas so that they can explore in virtual reality before they come. Try the links above to see all of the content we present in this blog, especially the "Vr Map" link which presents information with a Google map as starting point. "Home" will bring up several recent posts. Or page downwards and try the "Labels" or "Blog Archives" to bring up blog posts and panoramas from our expanding portfolio that fall within a given category. Fair Winds!
