Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #139: The Cabin Movie Shoot Day 2

1. I began the fourth day of my time in rural north central Pennsylvania by downing an energy drink and trying my best to wake up quickly before exiting the motel room to head over to Wellsboro to meet the rest of the crew. I found it amazing how fast my body will wake up when I have fun and exciting things on my schedule. If it was a typical work day, my body would have been like a Ziploc bag full of oatmeal. Yet, there I was on that morning, very tired but fully awake because of the adrenaline that kicked in as soon as my eyes opened. Each filming morning required me to be at Director Mark’s house in the next town over from where I was staying by 8:15am. No matter what time I managed to fall asleep, I was alive and kicking by 6:30am at the latest.


2. This was the first day that we would all be heading to the cabin to shoot. We were lucky in that Mark knew someone with a cabin nearly in the middle of nowhere. They were willing to allow us to use it for nothing. We had gone a few nights earlier to clean the cabin to get it camera-ready. That day, we packed up gear, loaded the food I had bought at Walmart, picked up anyone who needed to carpool, and started the journey to the tiny township of Osceola. I thought Mansfield was small, with a population of just under 3,000. Nothing prepared me for Osceola. Its population is under 600. On each of the drives out to the cabin, we would pass by many dilapidated houses. These looked like if you got a flat and needed to ask for help, you’d be shot before your foot touched the grass on the edge of their property. In fact, there was one time when Mark had to stop to wait for another car to catch up. I was carpooling with him. I was on my guard as we parked in front of one of these sketchy houses. When a person stepped out onto their porch, I was ready to duck and cover. There were never any issues with anyone on the drives out to the cabin, but it felt like the threat was always there.


3. A daily highlight on my drives, not only to the cabin, but just around where I was in Pennsylvania, was the fog and clouds. The elevation in the area ranges from 1,000 to 2,000 feet, and so there were times, especially in the morning, when the fog and clouds would be right at eye level or just above. We get tons of fog on Cape Cod; the spring is the worst of it. However, I hadn’t seen it hovering just off the ground, the same with the clouds. I couldn’t get any photos while I was driving, but managed to grab one while on a drive out to the cabin on that first day of shooting. It won’t do justice to how cool it was, but it’s better than nothing. Mark told me that the fog/clouds and the heat lightning that I found so exciting were so routine that it didn’t even faze him. I guess it’s the same as how I feel about the summer traffic on Cape Cod. No, wait, that’s never exciting or fun.

Looking at the fog on the horizon traveling toward Osceola.

4. The cabin itself was an interesting character not only in the film but for my trip in general. I mentioned the obnoxious amount of stuffed animals inside, and not the cuddly ones kids have on their beds. We arrived and, first off, had to turn on the power. This would come into play a few times throughout the shoot. There was a breaker for the pump, which allowed us to have running water. Not wanting to overdo it, we would only flip the switch for short bursts periodically when we needed to use water or the bathroom. I was honestly fine with just wandering off behind some bushes, but I know that’s not for everyone. We unpacked the food and set up the props, lighting, and scenery we needed. Even though we were only there for two full days, it did feel like we were arriving at an Airbnb. There were a few perishable items we brought: meat, cheese, and bottled water, so we had to shove them in the fridge. Surprisingly, the fridge was full. We didn’t get too excited, though; it was mostly condiments and copious amounts of beer, which I am sure the cabin owners had counted. There would be some time to explore the cabin thoroughly, but once we had everything settled, it was time to dive right into shooting.

A pano shot showing how isolated we were.

5. It’s funny, regarding the trip in general, I can tell how busy the days were by just how many photos and videos I got. This day was the busiest by far, with the following day being only slightly less busy. It should come as no surprise that, since we were shooting at a cabin roughly a mile from anything that the cell reception was nearly nonexistent. I would get flashes of one bar of service, but it was never anything that allowed me to post any updates on social media. I was, for all intents and purposes, off the radar for two entire days. I still shot a handful of videos on this day. I even began uploading one to Instagram around 10:30am. By the time we left the cabin, which was close to 9pm, that story was maybe 30% uploaded. I ended up canceling that upload and throwing all of the footage up once I got back to my motel room and civilization.





6. Being that we had a small cast and a small budget, I had a feeling that I might end up with a role or two in the film. One came about by my own foolishness. I was checking over the script while still on Cape Cod, and on the first page, in the very first scene, I saw that there was a character that I never cast. It was another friend of Will, the main character, who is being given the lowdown about why he was quitting his job. Since I was pressed for time, I decided to just record those lines myself, so that was my first role. Secondly, I took on the role of an investigator near the end of the film. This was relatively small, so I wasn’t too worried about remembering lines. This role was memorable because it came with a costume. Mark’s son Anthony, who is such a sweet person and a very talented visual effects person, brought this hefty trench coat with him. I agreed to wear it in my role as the investigator. The trench coat was memorable for two reasons. For one, it was 85 degrees and humid, so wearing it was like having a portable sauna. Secondly, it was too big. I looked like a five-year-old who got into daddy’s clothes. All I could do was laugh when the cameras weren’t rolling, of course. I was so inspired by the incredible acting jobs that Cody and Jeff did that I took on some extra lines and lightened the load for Michael, who played another police officer. A funny thing that won’t come through in the film is that my character was interacting with Cody’s character in a scene. The only issue was Cody had to run home to let his dog out. So we shot my scene with me interrogating an empty chair off-screen. I got really intense too. I hope I scared that invisible ghost I was yelling at.

7. As far as my roles in The Cabin go, we save the best for last. My third role ended up being that of the mysterious creature that stalks the main character. Coming into the shoot, I don’t think any of us had a clue who would be in that role. I had brought the outfit for the creature from my own closet. Anthony had made the mask. So we had the creature costume but nobody to play it. I didn’t need to have my arm twisted too much to play the role. For one, it had no dialogue, just a lot of growls, grunts, and howls. Also, it was another perfect full-circle moment. When I used to make skits with my friends with my camcorder in the 1990s, I enjoyed being a bit of a stuntman. I would fall and throw myself around to make things look good. Granted, I was now 30 years older, but how much different could it be? The answer was very similar but also very different. I had to get made up in the monster garb, which included a horrifying mask with one tiny eye hole for sight. There were also copious amounts of blood to make me look as gross as possible. A fun little issue came after nearly every scene where the neck of the mask needed to be tucked back into the collar of the shirt I was wearing. I looked a bit like a cross between Jason from Friday the 13th Part 4 and Sloth from The Goonies. The setup was all good to go, but could I pull off being the creature?


8. Yes. But seriously, we shot the initial monster scenes at night, and so with very little vision I had to basically use The Force to make my way around. This included crashing through a door, killing one person convincingly with no real way to see them, and then viciously trying to bash my way through another door. I was told that my performance terrified the others. Mark said as he was filming that he thought I was going to really break the door down, but he didn’t want to stop me. I left blood all over the cabin, some of which we wouldn’t find until it was time for us to pack up and leave. The initial crashing through the door was nuts. I went all out. Not being able to see much in the dark and with a quarter-sized eye hole made it easy for me to appear to be wild. I was throwing chairs, growling, and causing utter chaos. The only downer was one guy whining that I got blood on his shirt. It’s like, you’re acting in a movie; nobody forced you to come. Later on, as we were all leaving, we saw him pulled over in his vehicle, changing his shirt. He must have had a date that he didn’t want to know what he was up to. I would have another crack at being the creature the next day, but we’ll get to that when the time arrives.


9. Throughout our time out at the cabin, I tried to manifest a nature encounter. I saw a few deer, including one that walked into the front yard to eat apples. There was a rabbit that really seemed to enjoy hanging out in the back yard by the shed. Those were all well and good, but what I wanted was a black bear. Oh, I’m sure if I had been jumped by a bear I’d have regretted asking for it, but I never got the chance. I didn’t go all out and start playing bear calls on my phone or anything, but we were in the middle of nowhere in bear country; I mean, come on. A few times I wandered up into this clearing behind the cabin hoping that I’d sneak up on a bear foraging for berries. Yes, I did think to myself how stupid and dangerous it was, but damn it, I wanted photos of Yogi doing stuff. The closest I got to a black bear while in Pennsylvania came when I was walking the bike trail earlier in the week. I heard some noises coming from maybe 20-30 feet in the woods off the trail. I figured it was either a group of squirrels or maybe a deer. Mark said it was more than likely a bear since they like to forage for food in areas like that. I never saw it, so there’s no proof, but Mark lives out there and would know better than me. Therefore, I am considering it a near-miss with a black bear. In the future, the story will evolve into me fighting for my life against the bear, which is why I was unable to get any photographic evidence.


10. There were several hilarious moments during our shooting at the cabin. One that only became funny after the fact was as follows. It was broad daylight, but we needed to get some night scenes done. This required some lighting trickery, including shooting day for night, which will mostly be applied during post-production. A more practical way to make day look like night is to cover windows with something black. We had a sheet that would do the trick. First, Anthony and I tried taping the sheet over the window from the inside. This was a failure and included us losing the tape as soon as we put it down, despite neither of us moving from where we stood. It ended up being wedged between the mattress and the side of the frame. We even sent Michael outside to see if somehow we dropped it out the window. The next bright idea was taping the sheet to a pair of lighting stands outside and raising it up to block the window. The sheet was taped, but as soon as we attempted to lift it, everything unraveled, and the sheet fell to the muddy ground. Yes, the ground was soft and muddy, which made everything else harder. Finally, Mark found a ladder, and we were able to nail the sheet to the window frame. It ended up being like a scene right out of the Three Stooges. It took five of us about a half hour to get that sheet in place. We nearly forgot to take it down when we were leaving too. I could only imagine the cabin owners showing up and seeing a window totally blacked out. They’d probably have started wondering what type of movie we had been shooting.

Three Stooges Seal of Approval

11. Being on a tight budget, you have to become creative. I wish we had a more robust budget to use on props and effects, but that wasn’t the case for The Cabin. In the script, there is a scene that includes the main character finding the dead deer. Sure, we could have found stock footage of a deer to put in post. But what made more sense was grabbing one of the many, many deer heads off the wall and using it as practical effects. I grabbed one, which weighed next to nothing, and brought it outside to lay in the grass. It ended up working perfectly. Cody came around the corner of the cabin and spotted the dead deer, brilliantly shot by Mark. In the script, it is supposed to be all bloodied up, but that probably can be done in post-production. We just needed the one shot and then to get it back on the wall no worse for wear. My greatest fear was that I had hung it back up improperly and that it had somehow fallen off the wall and been destroyed. I figure if that had happened, the cabin owner would have called Mark, and at least as of this writing, I have heard nothing about damaged deer heads.

The one in the middle was used in the film.

12. After a long day of filming, you can get hungry. Sure, we had a lot of food that I got from Walmart; that was part of the budget after all. But finger foods like granola bars, donuts, bags of chips, and even peanut butter and jelly sandwiches don’t fill you up unless you eat a ton all at once. I had been picking at stuff when we had the chance, so by the time we called ‘cut’ to end the day, which was close to 9pm, I was starving. As I was in Mark’s car, being brought back to his house where my rental was, my wheels were turning as far as where I could go to grab something quick for dinner. I only knew a few places along my driving route back to the motel. One was a McDonald’s located maybe two minutes from the motel. I decided, why not? I was technically on vacation, right? Something exciting, but also troublesome for me, that I discovered was the fact that I could pay for my food through the app using Venmo. Not only was everything slightly cheaper than on Cape Cod, but now I could just click one button, and it was paid. I grew up in the analog age of the 1980s and 1990s. Most things I learned about now require fewer steps, which I don’t mind. I think if you grew up before technology took over, you appreciate the advances. If you are born into a world where everything is simple and convenient, you likely don’t appreciate it. I didn’t think about that much while enjoying my late-night dinner, though. All I could do was eat and hope that my adrenaline wore off soon enough so that I could get a relatively good night’s sleep before another full day of filming.

I became very familiar with this spot

A Forgotten Story From A Favorite Place

It’s amazing, as you get older, the number of memories that grow fuzzier or get lost to time altogether. It’s a big reason why I have chosen over the years to write various journals as well as blogs like this. I want to hold on to as many stories from my life, even if they end up being only in written or typed form.

That is the setup for this story here. It is one that I had totally forgotten about for many years. I wish I could tell you what brought it back to mind, but I can’t. It’s like one minute there was a dark room, and suddenly the light switch turned on and revealed the full contents therein.

This is a story where I was hailed as a hero. Despite that, I don’t think I talked about it much at the time. Bear with me, as even though I remember the majority of this story, there are still details that remain locked away in the past.



Bass Hole, or Gray’s Beach as it’s known to those not familiar with Cape Cod, has been my favorite place for a long time. My visits there number in the several hundreds over my life. It is a small beach in the town of Yarmouth Port.

For those wondering why it is called ‘Bass Hole’ by the locals, I will open the pages of my copy of the book Names of the Land. It was written by Eugene Green and William Sachse in 1983. Actually, it was my Nana’s book, but that’s beside the point. In the early 17th century, the Colonists marveled at the number of striped bass that were drawn to the deep creek mouth, aka the ‘hole.’

The Bass Hole grounds include a grassy area with a pavilion, grills, and a playground. Nature trails lead you to overlooks of a marsh and nearby Chapin Beach in the town of Dennis.

The major attraction at Bass Hole is a several-hundred-foot-long boardwalk that extends out over the marsh. It is the type of place where people flock to in the hopes of capturing the perfect sunset photo.

I visited regularly growing up. Once I was in high school and able to go out on my own with friends, it became a haven for most of our activities. John and Barry, two of my oldest and dearest friends, were my partners in crime.

We were never into doing things like underage drinking and all-night partying. We enjoyed grabbing some snacks and hanging out in the parking lot at Bass Hole after dark. Either we’d get tired, or we’d start seeing police cars on patrol, and that would cause us to call it a night. Those wacky chats, either in the dark or under the dome light of a car, are some of my favorite memories of growing up.

The pavilion and playground at Bass Hole.

After we all graduated from high school, John and Barry left for college and moved away to start the next chapters of their lives. When they returned, we would make it a point to visit Bass Hole together for old times' sake.

Still living on Cape Cod, I frequented my favorite spot for a sense of normalcy as I began delving into what I learned was a Quarter-Life Crisis in my early 20s.

I went by myself and sat in the parking lot. Typically, I’d bring lunch or dinner, something fast food to pair with my super healthy lifestyle at the time. Then I’d wander the grounds as if I were searching for a part of me that I’d never find again. Bass Hole was my happy place, whether alone or with others.

For this particular story, I believe we go back to 2003. I was living with my family in a small place in Dennis Port. It was early fall, probably October. I was wearing jeans and a long-sleeved shirt that was more like thermal underwear. I know that’s hard to picture. I got it from Old Navy. It was off-white. I am describing it in depth because it’s important to the story.

It was later in the afternoon on this day that I visited Bass Hole. I had something for dinner. Because it was 2003, I’d guess McDonald’s. When I finished, I threw my trash away and went for a walk.

When I am there, I typically don’t pay much attention to the goings-on in the parking lot. It’s a public place and a beloved place, but for me, the fewer cars, the better. For this October afternoon, there might have been a handful of other vehicles there at most, and I hadn’t noticed any other people.

The walks I’d take tended to last anywhere from 15 to 30 minutes. For as many nice things as there are to see at Bass Hole, it is, in general, a small area. I walked the nature trails and got lost in thought for a spell.

Upon returning from the woods, I crossed the grassy area, passed the playground, and stepped onto the asphalt parking lot. My car was straight ahead, and my mind probably drifted to what mundane tasks I’d be having to do at work the next morning. Then I heard it.

The eastern side of the square parking lot is bordered by reeds, thorns, and various other bushes. From among them, I heard a weak voice.

“Help!”

I stopped and looked over but didn’t see anything. Was it in my mind?

“Please help me!”

This was not my imagination. I might have been thirty feet from the end of the asphalt. Slowly, I walked toward where the frail voice had been coming from. Only when I got within a few feet did I find the source.

Lying on her side, three or four feet back from the pavement, was a woman. She had to have been in her early to mid 70s. Apparently, she had crossed into the overgrowth looking for something. I can’t remember exactly now, but I thought she had said something about berries.

The various branches and thorns had gotten hold of her legs and tripped her up. Once down among them, she struggled to escape, but in the process, she was tangled up even worse.

My only experience with that particular section of Bass Hole had come years earlier. John, Barry, and I had purchased a cheap kite. I believe it was some sort of bird emblazoned on it; we called it our ‘falcon kite.’

We likely had a kite similar to one of these

As we flew it poorly, it ended up crashing into those reeds and thorns. We knew it was more trouble than it was worth to try to maneuver through even a few feet of heavy overgrowth to retrieve a kite that cost us a few dollars. We left it in there. Who knows how long it took until it had disintegrated? Now, there was a person stuck in those same thorns and brush.

I didn’t think twice. I stepped into the thorns, trying to push the branches down with my sneakers, and grabbed hold of her. I lifted her gently but with enough force to detach the thorns from around her legs. I felt some of them release their grip on her, and on me as well. Once I had her up on her feet, I saw how badly things had been.

Her hands and arms were sliced up and bleeding pretty badly. It looked like she had been struggling for at least a few minutes. That long-sleeved shirt I was wearing was now covered in her blood. It was all surreal.

I guided her out of the brush and onto the pavement. By this time, a few people had rushed over. The woman was grateful but visibly shaking. I believe she had fallen in the brush within minutes of my walking off to the nature trails.

The people who came over only did so because they saw the two of us walking out of the brush with me holding the woman up. It could have been possible that if I hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have been seen or heard for a while. She could have possibly even been there into the night.

The woman thanked me profusely. One of the people who came over to help called me a hero. I guess I was a little shaken, and maybe a little oblivious to the seriousness of the situation. It was that same person who painted the picture of what could have happened to the woman if I hadn’t been there. Then it sank in.

In what must have seemed like a scene out of a superhero movie, I waited until I knew that rescue had been called for the woman and then quietly took my leave. It was a true Irish goodbye.

I find it interesting that when presented with the chance to soak in the adulation of people for saving a helpless woman, I chose to slip away. Nobody there ever got my name, not even the woman I helped. I was gone so quickly out of the parking lot that I didn’t even pass the ambulance that had been called.

Sunset was closing in as I got home. I parked in the driveway and sat in my cranberry red Saturn. Ironically, my white shirt now matched my car’s paint job.

I looked down at the dried blood and still couldn’t fathom what had happened on what was just another visit to Bass Hole. I had helped someone in need, a total stranger, without thinking twice. I knew that was the right thing to do.

I walked inside. My mother was in the kitchen with her back to me. I remember walking up to her, and when she turned around, the absolute shock and horror at what she saw.

Imagine the scene of your son walking into the house covered in someone else’s blood. It’s like the beginning of so many true crime dramas that you see on television. Lucky for me, I was never a troublemaker, so my explanation was believed.

It made me so glad that John and Barry and I had been (relatively) good kids growing up. If I had been a problem child, it would have been different. Do you think my mother would have believed the story that you just read? Especially considering that I chose anonymity? Nobody had my name, so where would the proof have been? She’d have probably sneaked into her bedroom and called 911.

Although I liked that shirt, I didn’t even bother trying to wash it. It was wrapped in a plastic bag and thrown into the trash. Boy, that makes it sound even more like I was covering up a murder. I did, however, buy a replacement for it.

Me wearing the replacement shirt, fittingly at Bass Hole in 2004.

Looking back, I wish I had gotten the name of the woman I helped. Or at least maybe stuck around until rescue got there. I had done the most important part, though, by helping her. I didn’t need the pat on the back.

What’s interesting is that this was in the days before social media. I think I had only recently gotten a cell phone at the time. If I had social media, would I have shared my experience? Probably.

I could have seen myself sitting in my car explaining what had happened. Of course, if I were wearing my blood-soaked shirt, the video would have been pulled, and the authorities would have probably been called on me. So all things considered, it was probably for the best that Facebook and Myspace didn’t exist then.

That’s the story of probably my most interesting trip to Bass Hole. The time that I happened to be there to help someone in their time of need. It was pure luck and nothing I sought out. It did make me feel good about myself as a person, though.

It makes me think of how many situations happen or don’t happen due to a matter of seconds and inches. If I had gone to Bass Hole a little earlier, what would have happened to that lady? I’d like to think somebody else would have heard her cries for help, but you never know.

I have been in situations where I could use a hand. It’s never been as bad as being trapped among thorns and bleeding heavily, though. I’d like to think that if I were in need, there would be a good Samaritan there to help me out. I will never lose that faith in humanity.

I have returned to Bass Hole countless times in the years since. There has never been such an event again. I will say I did get to see some incredible Aurora Borealis there in 2024, which was very fitting.

Aurora Borealis at Bass Hole

I hope that the woman I helped never lost her sense of wonder and adventure that caused her to climb in among the thorns, trying to find whatever she was looking for. I never saw her again and probably wouldn’t have recognized her if I had.

She and I were in each other's lives for all of 15 minutes, but I’d like to think that we each left a positive mark on the other. I gave her a helping hand, and she revealed a part of me that I am proud of.

Initial Impressions 2.0 Blog #121: Aging Gracefully, Mall Dreams, Fox Family Fun, etc.

1. I am now at the point where I feel weird if I am not actively involved in watching a show on Netflix. I finished the Stranger Things animated spin-off and rolled right into the thriller series His & Hers. That was also really good. It was only 6 episodes, though, so I ran through it in less than a week. Now I have moved on to another suspense/thriller series, The Beast In Me, starring Claire Danes. I already like this one as well. I must admit it’s different seeing the same Claire Danes from My So Called Life as a middle-aged actor, but it can’t be that strange since she and I are basically the same age. It must be something about aging. Like when I was 15, seeing someone near 50, they looked old. Now at 48, I look at Claire Danes, who is 47, and she looks great. She looks her age but has aged well. Not sure how to describe it. Is it something in our minds that makes us look at age differently when we reach those same numbers? 48 doesn’t look old anymore because I am it. I guess I’ll have to wait and see if I still think Claire Danes looks great when we’re both in our 80s.

2. I have gotten a lot of positive feedback on my driving videos on social media. I extend my selfie stick up through my moon roof and lock it into place while I take a drive to somewhere on Cape Cod. I typically drive to a beach. Luckily, there are a lot of beaches for me to showcase on social media. The question remains though, what happens when I run out of beaches? I suppose I could just drive every random road. It would be the law of diminishing returns, though. I got from driving to a beautiful beach, and then it goes to me driving to the nearest Cumberland Farms or Dunkin’ Donuts. The more I think about it, the more I believe that there would be an audience. It would likely be old-time Cape Codders who would want to comment by mentioning what used to be located where I was driving. We’ll see if it comes to that. I still have a long way to go until then.



3. I have vivid dreams quite often. I also am pretty good at lucid dreaming, which is when you become aware you are dreaming and basically can start to control and manipulate things. That being said, I can’t tell myself before I sleep that I will dream of X, and then it happens. So when I have had a pair of vivid dreams over the last few weeks that include me hanging out with family and friends at some sort of 1990s mall, it must mean something. Either I miss hanging with certain people, or I miss standing around in the mall with nothing to worry about except whether I can afford something from the food court and a new CD. The first dream had family, including my three sisters, but also my Nina, who passed in 2021. We were out in front of where Filene’s used to be in the old Cape Cod Mall. The second one was weirder, including one sister and another good friend. The weird part was that the mall was a circle with five long hallways extending out from the circle. This is where the stores were, including Kmart and a Hallmark store. To top it off though, there was a kiosk that was selling pretzels stuffed with buffalo peanut butter. I am assuming buffalo like the spice, not like the animal, but I didn’t try one, so who knows?


4. Over the last 30 years, I have tried pretty much everything when it comes to supplements and energy drinks. There have been some that I have really liked and thought that they were well worth the price, and possible risks. I have tried some things that have been banned, like Ephedra Tea. I have tried things that have had their formulas changed, like Jack3d and NO Explode. I have tried things that have been discontinued, like Speed Stack. That being said, I have never tried an energy drink because its name made me laugh. That changed this week. I am sure some of you have heard of BUM Energy. I had never had a desire to try it until I saw one of their flavors. Dr. BUM. Just its name makes me laugh. It sounds like a name that should be reserved for a superhero proctologist. If you have it, you will quickly notice that it’s a take on Dr. Pepper. I like it, but the name bumped a 6/10 drink to an 8/10. Ha ha, Dr. BUM.


5. It was a comedy of errors this week, one day at work. The rest of the staff was done early, but I had more than an hour to wait for my last client to show up to train. I wasn’t sure if she was going to make it, so a text was sent to try to confirm. I didn’t want to sit around and wait for nothing. Unfortunately, mere minutes after that text was sent, an auto text went out to remind her of the appointment, so she never saw the previous one. So I waited. Another patient had forgotten their coat, and they were coming in to get it. I had to wait by the front door since there was nobody at the desk. While I was chatting and handing off the coat, my computer decided to install updates and restart. It took way too long to come back on, and then when it did, I had trouble remembering the password since we recently changed it. I was figuring the client would have responded to the text by then. By the time I was back online, my last client was late. I needed to take the trash out, but didn’t want to have her show up to an empty office while I was outside. In the end, she did show up, 25 minutes late, as I was reaching for the front door to lock it. We still did the full training session, plus I was getting paid, so it was no big deal.


6. After seeing a pallet of sod rolls while out on a walk this week, I am suggesting that we change their name to ‘grass Yodels.’ You can’t look at a roll of sod and not tell me it looks like a green, far less tasty, version of the snack cake. If you want to call them Swiss grass Rolls, I will accept it as well. Not sure how much more expanding on this random, foolish idea I can do. It made me laugh, and of course, I have photos so that you can now not unsee the similarity. I will say, don’t try to eat a grass Yodel. Hey, I can’t stop you if you’re really determined to eat grass, but I can say I tried.

7. It was seven years ago this week that my hero, my Grampa, passed away. He was the epitome of strength right up until the last several months when dementia finally got its claws into him. Despite being gone for so long, I do my best to keep him as a part of my life. Upon his death, my mother gave us kids each a green Irish Beanie Baby, sort of representing Grampa. I have that on hand at all of my author events. I also have his old compass. It is about a hundred years old and makes for a great photo prop. This week, to remember him, I went past my grandparents' old house on my walk. They lived there back in the 1990s, but outside it still looks the same, so it’s a nice flashback. In the afternoon, I took the compass and my new large crystal ball and went for a photo trip to the local beaches. I know one particular beach where there is a cherry blossom tree. My Grampa was a jazz singer, and we kids all remembered him singing ‘It looks like rain in Cherry Blossom Lane.’ I like combining the cherry blossoms with the compass. The photo session mostly consisted of me trying to balance the giant crystal ball and the compass on branches in the tree. The last thing I wanted was having the compass fall and the ball drop on it, and both smash. It ended up going well, as you can see in the photo.



8. I always admire and get a bit jealous of nature photographers. I can’t afford a $10K zoom lens, so typically I have to settle for long-distance shots. Then again, sometimes I get lucky. While at the same beach where I was shooting the crystal ball and compass, I noticed something, actually several somethings. I was trying to set up a photo when I saw a fox sitting on the other side of the parking lot. Even better was that behind the fox I spotted three little kits, or pups. My crystal ball photos immediately took a back seat to filming little foxes jumping and playing. It was the type of video I’d always hoped for but never expected. During the half hour or so that the foxes were around, the babies played, and the mother left and then returned with dinner for the little ones. I think it was a rabbit. At one point, the mother circled me, but not menacingly. She had spotted what looked like a chicken leg that some dumbass had just left in the grass. So I had the mama fox behind me and the babies in front. The only thing I didn’t get that I wanted was the babies coming and inspecting my camera. I kept leaving my camera on the tripod in different areas where the babies were hanging out. I had my remote shutter and was hoping they would be curious. Nah, once the mother brought back dinner, they all retreated. I plan on going back to that spot next week to see if I get lucky again.



9. I returned to the new Parker’s River Landing in Yarmouth this week to visit my Uncle Eric’s memorial plank on the boardwalk. This time, though, it was a family affair as his son, my cousin Patrick, and a few longtime family friends, went to toast to him. It was a beautiful sunny day, and we shared a few stories and laughs, but it was bittersweet. My uncle’s death three years ago wrecked me. Most don’t know how badly. This is mainly because I don’t talk about it since I believe nobody would listen or care. I have learned as I get older that few people will actually listen to you. For the most part, people wait for you to stop talking so they can then try to one-up you with whatever issue is going on. ‘You think that’s bad, well I have X going on.’ So I just keep it to myself, or blogs like this. I look to my cousin and aunt and see how they hold it together, so I owe it to them to do the same. I mean, if they can pull through after losing their father and husband, what right do I have to feel so bad about losing my uncle, right?

10. After visiting my uncle’s plank it was time to venture over to his favorite restaurant, Capt. Parker’s. Luckily, it is literally right across the street from the park. We walked over, having to wait for kind drivers to let us cross the busy Rt. 28. Hopefully, they will put a crosswalk in there because we aren’t the first, and sure won’t be the last, to try to walk across to Capt. Parker’s. The food was great. The prices were fine, depending on what you got. Fried chicken sandwich, $17, I guess that’s to be expected in this day and age. Fisherman’s Platter? $45. Nah, I’ll pass. I could get myself food to make 6-7 meals for that price. The best is the several items that were listed as ‘market price.’ This basically means they can charge as much as they want and say it’s because of how much the product costs, typically lobster. Thankfully, I can’t stand lobster, so I’d never have to play the guessing game of ‘market price’ before having to make a car payment on a child’s handful of lobster in a roll. We enjoyed our food and then, to make sure we got our money’s worth, stayed an extra hour chatting and laughing, all while the waiter kept walking by. Hey, we paid, and you got a good tip, so relax.

11. It is mid-May, so to no surprise this was the week to get my first sunburn. It wasn’t bad. The day was sunny and low 60’s and breezy by the water, so I had a thin long-sleeve shirt on. Plus, now that I have hair and don’t shave my head weekly, I don’t have to worry about sunburns on my scalp. Those sucked, I probably could have fried eggs on my head. This time it was just my forehead and the back of my neck. Well, and one other area. The long sleeves covered just below my wrists for the most part. At the end of the day, I ended up with half of my hands red. It literally looked like I had stuck my fingers in boiling water. I guess that’s not as bad as getting the driving tan where one arm is red, and the other is not, from resting your arm on the open window while driving.

Washburn Island and World War II - Cape Cod History

Despite Cape Cod being a relatively small location (approximately 339 square miles), some places are far less traveled. Most of these locations come in the form of small islands located in and around the peninsula.

A few examples include Strong Island in Chatham, which is 75 acres and consists primarily of marshland. There is Sipson Island, which is 25 acres and has been privately owned for over three centuries. Sampsons Island in Cotuit is a 15-acre nature preserve. Bassetts Island in Pocasset is 60 acres of beaches and upland forest. There is even more to be explored, but none has the wealth of history and the air of mystery that exists on Washburn Island.

Washburn Island is approximately 330 acres in size and sits inside Waquoit Bay off East Falmouth. Today it’s a largely undeveloped, pine-and-oak–covered island with a popular primitive campsite and a handful of sandy beaches. That calm surface hides a layered past: Indigenous seasonal use, 19th-century farms and Gilded-Age summer estates, and dramatic storms. Perhaps most intriguing is the island’s surprising role in World War II amphibious training.

Long before European colonists arrived, the island was used seasonally by Native Americans. They referred to the island as Menauhaunt. Archaeological finds like shell middens, stone flakes, and other artifacts show human activity in and around Waquoit Bay and Washburn Island for many centuries. Through the 1700s and 1800s, the island was intermittently used for grazing livestock and small farms. In the 19th century, three farms existed on the island, two of which were gone by the end of the century. By that point, the future Washburn Island had attracted private owners.

In 1900, Henry A. Bryant, whose family had opened the Pacific Northwest to the shipping trade, acquired the property. On it, he had built a large three-story summer house overlooking Waquoit Bay and Vineyard Sound. For a time, a hand ferry connected the island to the mainland with a landing on the Seapit River at present-day Ferry Road.

Henry Bryant died suddenly on January 6, 1904, at the young age of forty-six. The estate on the island was left to his widow, Alida. She held on to the property until 1912, when it was sold to a group of bankers and corporate investors. This included the former U.S. Ambassador to Austria, Albert Washburn.

Albert Washburn c. 1920(Library of Congress)

At first, the purchase was only for the former Bryant estate, with the rest planned to be sold in parcels for development. Those plans fell through, and Albert Washburn and his wife, Florence, bought the rest of the island for their own private use.

The Washburns erected a wondrous compound. In addition to moving into the Bryant estate, the Washburns constructed a stable, a barn, a boathouse, a pier, and a narrow bridged causeway. The family name is what the island is usually called today.

The bridge to Washburn Island looking west toward the mainland.(Falmouth Historical Society)

The main house burned to the ground on October 26, 1926, thanks to a fire starting inside a defective chimney. The soft sand near the bridged causeway severely affected the arrival time of firefighters. By the time the blaze had been quelled, all that remained were the servants' quarters. The barn and most of the farm remained intact. A modest farmhouse was built to give the Washburns a place to live during their summers on the island.

Albert Washburn died suddenly of food poisoning in Vienna in April 1930, leaving the island in a state of flux. The estate never fully recovered, and the property shifted toward recreational use after that period. This was mostly because while the island was still owned by Florence Washburn, she never marked the property or imposed any restrictions on visitors.

Florence and the rest of her family began spending less and less time on the island in the early 1930s. It became a haven for those using the island for picnicking and recreation. Unfortunately, some took advantage of this generosity by looting the farmhouse and vandalizing parts of the island.

A massive hurricane in 1938 dramatically changed the island's appearance. It washed away the causeway and bridge. This left Florence Washburn with no easy access to the island where the farmhouse remained. The storm surge also ripped a channel open in the area that was 125 feet wide and seven feet deep. For the first time in decades, Washburn Island truly was an island.

Washburn Island’s most dramatic chapter came along with World War II. Florence Washburn, who had been living exclusively in Hanover, New Hampshire, said in June 1942 that she wanted to rebuild her beloved island that had been severely damaged by vandals. However, she couldn’t get the assurances needed to protect her property rights.

A perfect storm came up as the U.S. military rapidly expanded amphibious training in the early 1940s. Needing coastal areas to prepare troops for beach landings in both the European and Pacific areas, the military looked to Washburn Island. With Florence unable to rebuild the island the way she wanted, she instead leased several tracts of land to the federal government.

The Army’s amphibious units (Engineer Boat and Shore Regiments and associated training commands operating out of Camp Edwards and nearby facilities) used the island for landing exercises. To create a proper base, there was the construction of a crisscross of several temporary roads and five finger-like piers that stretched nearly 900 feet out into the water. Washburn Island also saw drill fields, parade grounds, and an obstacle course. Once completed, the island served as a training ground for two years.

Despite wishing for the operations at Washburn to be secret, it was easy for locals to spot what was going on. It became commonplace to spot barges landing on the beach and soldiers wading through the water in full gear with rifles held overhead. After the war ended, Cape Codders proudly referred to Washburn Island as the ‘Cradle of Invasions,’ and the troops as ‘Cape Cod Commandos.’

Perhaps the wildest scene during these operations was the full-scale mock invasion the troops performed on Martha’s Vineyard. This included traversing the rough seas of Vineyard Sound and landing at designated sites at Vineyard Haven and Oak Bluffs on the north side of the island, more than five miles away.

A World War II amphibious vehicle, the DUKW.

For training purposes, the island was temporarily reconnected to the mainland via a sand causeway and wooden drawbridge that began at Ovington Point. Temporary structures were also built to support the effort. Contemporary accounts and later histories emphasize Washburn Island’s role as one of the local training beaches where soldiers practiced the skills, including small-craft landings, that would be vital in Normandy, the Mediterranean, and Pacific operations.

Washburn Island’s importance began to dwindle in 1943 due to harsh weather. The majority of the program was moved south to Carrabelle, Florida. Another major hurricane roared through in September 1944. This storm again destroyed the bridge and causeway. For a time, the military decided not to rebuild. It seemed as though this chapter of the story was over.

As World War II was coming to a close in the summer of 1945, Washburn Island got a new purpose. It became a place of recovery for those G.I.s returning from battle. The island that was not long before filled with amphibious vehicles and soldiers preparing for battle now looked far different.

On August 9, 1945, Washburn Island opened the Convalescent Hospital. It was staffed by twenty-five officers and men and was visited daily by 800 men who were transported to the island over the causeway via bus.

Recovering soldiers had access to surfboards, diving rafts, boats for fishing, lounge chairs, and various other beach games. Lt. Victor Dauer, the commanding officer of Washburn Island, emphasized that the facilities were meant for total physical and mental relaxation. Soldiers from all across the country came to Washburn. They got a slice of the good life as the highly regarded Coonamessett Club temporarily operated only to serve those veterans.

When all of the soldiers who had needed help had been taken care of, it was time for Washburn Island to be returned to its namesake. The structures that had been erected were all torn down, leaving only cement slabs on the island. The government gave the island back to Florence Washburn; however, it had changed dramatically.

Numerous trees had been cut down to make way for the military buildings, or they had been felled by the hurricane. The structures that did remain included the old farmhouse, the barn, an ice house, and a bath house. One thing that would not remain was the bridge. In late September 1946, the wooden bridge was removed, and Washburn truly was an island again.

The structures left on the island were left to slowly decay over the years, leading to their eventual razing. Despite the island being deserted, Florence refused to sell, even stating on numerous occasions that she would ‘never’ sell the island. She did, however, continue to allow visitors to the island for recreation up until her death on January 27, 1953.

Florence’s son, Dr. Lincoln Washburn, continued his mother’s policy of allowing visitors and also to never sell the property. This finally changed in 1976 when large increases in taxes in Falmouth got Dr. Washburn’s attention. Talks were loud in the coming years about potentially building a fifty-luxury-home subdivision complete with a 150-spot parking lot and a 200-foot dock. Luckily, the state stepped in to preserve the natural beauty.

In June 1983, the Commonwealth of Massachusetts acquired the island for $2.1 million($6.83 million in 2025). This was a far better option than the alternative.

Washburn Island was incorporated into the Waquoit Bay National Estuarine Research Reserve, which manages it for habitat protection, research, and low-impact recreation. Today, the Massachusetts Department of Conservation & Recreation (in partnership with the Reserve) manages camping, trails, and visitor access; the island contains primitive campsites, composting toilets, and marked trails but no developed utilities, preserving much of its wild character. What remains today on Washburn Island includes the natural features like a barrier beach, dunes, and salt ponds. There are also oak and pine forests and marshes, which are habitats for shorebirds and marine life. Except for the very small concrete slabs being overtaken by nature, there is nothing that remains from the days when the island was used as preparation for battle and the recovery from it.

Those looking to visit the island may do so. There can be day visits, beaching boats, hiking, and a small, reservation-only primitive campground (ten sites, plus one group site). Access to Washburn Island is by private boat only; there’s no public ferry. One can easily kayak to the island. The closest point to Washburn is at the Menauhaunt Yacht Club, which is less than one hundred feet. The island’s management emphasizes research, stewardship, and low-impact recreation.

In a local newspaper article in 1951, Washburn Island was seen as a place so badly damaged by storms and people that it could not be able to be salvaged. Nearly eighty years later, it stands as a pristine escape within an escape on Cape Cod. From the Native Americans, to the Bryants, to the Washburns, to the military, back to the Washburns, and finally to the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, this 330-acre property has had an incredible story. Luckily, it will remain a beautiful getaway for hikers, campers, and beachgoers when it easily could have become another private haven for the filthy rich, which makes up too much of Cape Cod as it is.

Looking across Waquoit Bay with Washburn Island on the right.

Cape Cod Nauset Beach Winter Storm Riley Livestream 2018 - Found Footage After 8 Years!

March 4, 2018, Winter Storm Riley tore through Cape Cod with winds gusting over 90 mph. Even worse was the storm surge and erosion. I went live on Facebook on location at Nauset Beach in Orleans during the storm's peak. My phone's battery died during the stream, and I could not find the footage on Facebook. Since I never officially 'ended' the stream, I figured it was not saved and, therefore, lost. I looked many times over the years with no luck. Then this week by happenstance I was looking for a different post when lo and behold I found the raw footage in my archives. What we have here is that livestream footage of Winter Storm Riley at its peak forever changing one of Cape Cod's most iconic locations. I did my best to remaster the video, fix the audio due to the intense winds, and even add captions where I could to make the viewing experience as good as it could be. To listen to episodes of the In My Footsteps Podcast click here: https://inmyfootstepspodcast.buzzsprout.com/ Become A Subscriber to the Podcast on Patreon: patreon.com/InMyFootstepsPodcast

Interview with Film Producer Frank Durant: In My Footsteps Podcast

It is a special bonus podcast and a special video version of the In My Footsteps Podcast. Here we meet up with film producer Frank Durant on his recreation of Henry David Thoreau's famed hike along Cape Cod's outer beach. 

It is filmed on location at Race Point Beach in Provincetown, and Mac's Market & Kitchen in Eastham. 

In this interview, we discuss Frank's connection with Henry David Thoreau, his love of hiking, a retrospective of his work on the famed Lady of the Dunes case, some insight into upcoming projects, and much more! 

To listen to episodes of the In My Footsteps Podcast click here: https://inmyfootstepspodcast.buzzsprout.com/ 

Become A Subscriber to the Podcast on Patreon: patreon.com/InMyFootstepsPodcast 

Purchase a DVD copy of the Lady of the Dunes documentary here: https://www.oldies.com/product-view/1176D.html 

Purchase the new book Searching for the Lady of the Dunes written by 12th Generation Cape Codder Christopher Setterlund at https://theladyofthedunes.com/ 

This video contains some videos and photos used from Canva Pro. 

Intro Music: James River - DJ Williams 

Outro Music: Local Elevator - Kevin Macleod

In My Footsteps: Hiking Cape Cod

With spring and summer comes the increased desire to get out and enjoy the beautiful weather. Living on Cape Cod there is no shortage of places to see and explore. Hiking is a fantastic way to get out into nature, get some exercise, and explore the great outdoors. However, hiking can also be dangerous if you're not prepared or don't take the necessary precautions.

What I am going to do here is share some amazing places to go exploring on Cape Cod and also give some tips on how to enjoy hiking outdoors safely.

1. Plan your route: Before you start your hike, it's essential to plan your route. Luckily Cape Cod is a peninsula and the odds of getting lost in somewhere truly inhospitable are small. However, it is important to have a general sense of where you are and where you are going. Doing a little research won’t hurt. Choose a trail that is suitable for your fitness level and experience. For the most part, Cape Cod is a series of beginner to moderate hiking trails.

2. Bring the right gear: This is a given. Make sure you have appropriate footwear that provides good support and traction. Wear comfortable clothing that is appropriate for the weather conditions. If the hike is long enough bring a backpack with essential items such as water, snacks, sunscreen, a hat, and maybe a first aid kit. There are plenty of short hikes on Cape Cod, but there are also some that can be up to ten miles or longer.

3. Check the weather forecast: This is true for any time of year. Hiking is fun, but hiking in the pouring rain, wind, or snow is not. That’s not to say that some inclement weather can’t make for a fun adventure. The main point is to think ahead. A little drizzle or hot temperatures might not ruin a hike, but a downpour can change the complexion of a trail turning packed dirt to slippery muck.

4. Hike with a buddy: It's always a good idea to hike with a buddy or a group of people. Not only is it more fun to hike with others, but it's also safer. If you get lost or injured, you'll have someone there to help you.

5. Stay on the trail: When hiking, always stay on the trail. Don't wander off the path, as you can damage the environment and get lost. There is also a prevalence of ticks that can cause Lyme Disease. Most trails are crafted to make sure you get the best experience so diverting from it shouldn’t be necessary.

6. Pace yourself: Hiking can be physically demanding. Don't push yourself too hard and listen to your body. If you feel tired or lightheaded, take a break and have a snack or drink some water. It also gives you ample time to take in the scenery and even snag a couple amazing photos.

7. Respect wildlife: Remember when hiking, you’re in nature’s house. Keep your distance from animals and don't disturb their natural habitat. Don't feed animals or leave food out, as this can attract wildlife and create dangerous situations.

8. Leave no trace: This is most important. Don't leave anything behind, and don't damage the environment by carving your name into trees or rocks. Take out what you take in. We only have one environment and it is important to leave its beauty for future generations.

     That’s a pretty comprehensive list, but it’s all common sense stuff. Be smart, be respectful, and be prepared. Now that you know how to properly enjoy a good hike on Cape Cod it’s time to share a few places to implement the tips. They will also be designated as easy, moderate, or difficult so that all experience levels can find somewhere incredible to visit.

1. Great Island Trail: Wellfleet – Moderate: This trail can be easy or moderate depending on the path you take. It is anywhere from 3.9 – 8.8 miles in total length. There are spectacular views of Cape Cod Bay and Jeremy Point. The uplands take you past the 17^th Century Samuel Smith Tavern Site.

Great Island Trail

2. Nauset Marsh Trail: Eastham – Easy/Moderate: This trail can be easy or moderate as well. There is a marsh loop trail that is 1.2 total miles but for more of a challenge you can add in the Nauset Bike Trail to bump the total distance up to 4.1 miles. You circle Salt Pond and can venture out to Salt Pond Bay. The bike trail leads you all the way out to the iconic Coast Guard Beach as well.

Nauset Marsh Trail

3. Long Point Lighthouse Trail: Provincetown – Moderate: One of the most visible yet least traversed trails on Cape Cod. The approximately 5.9 total mile hike begins with a somewhat challenging walk across Provincetown’s West End Breakwater. It continues with a sandy stroll out onto Long Point to the eponymously named lighthouse. The views of Provincetown’s waterfront along with the boats that dock on Long Point make this a wonderful way to spend a day.

Long Point Lighthouse

4. Waquoit Bay Trail: Mashpee – Easy: A beautiful out-and-back walk along South Cape Beach leads you from the parking area to the shores of Waquoit Bay. At a little over 2 miles, it is a relatively easy hike although some soft sand can slow your progress down at times.

South Cape Beach State Park

Wing Island Trail: Brewster – Easy: Be sure to keep an eye on the tides before you go. Once the timing is right though this is an easy hike with a panoramic view of Cape Cod Bay at the end. It can be anywhere from 1.5 miles to slightly longer depending on how much of the beach you choose to explore.

Wing Island Trail

    These are but a few of the incredible hikes on Cape Cod. There are so many hidden gems, not to mention more than one hundred miles of paved bike trails. Whether you choose to explore one of the mentioned trails, or you choose your own adventure, be sure to have fun and be safe!

In Their Footsteps: Cape Cod History - The Outermost House

    Cape Cod has more than its fair share of historic homes. Many are cared for by historical societies, some have been renovated and are now private. A few of these became iconic through the stories behind them. One of the biggest Cape Cod icons of the 20th century starred in a best-selling book. It showcased the rustic dream of living on a beach. In a fitting piece of irony that icon became a victim of the very sea that it romanticized in the book. It was the Outermost House and this is the story behind the icon.

    The story begins in 1925. Struggling author Henry Beston purchased fifty acres of beach roughly two miles south of the Coast Guard station in Eastham. He then asked his neighbor Harvey Moore a favor. Could he build him a small 20x16-foot, two-room shack in those Eastham dunes? Moore, a carpenter by trade, and his crew obliged and created a basic domicile consisting of a bedroom and kitchen/living room. After digging a well in the sand, and having the necessary outhouse built the job was done.

    Beston intended to only spend a fortnight in the dune shack he called Fo'castle as a respite from his struggles as a writer and the lingering effects of World War I. However the sand and the sea called to him so much that he extended his stay.

    After World War I Beston, born in Quincy, Massachusetts, began visiting Cape Cod to see friends. He stayed, among other places, at a cottage on Salt Pond in Eastham. Beston had a desire for a place of his own leading to him ask Harvey Moore to create it for him.

    Henry Beston ended up spending an entire year in Fo'castle in 1926-27. Alone with his thoughts he wrote of what he saw and heard in his solitude. Despite writing several notebooks worth of material Beston initially had no intention of turning them into a proper manuscript. It turns out his hand might have been forced into creating one of the masterpieces of 20th century literature.

    In 1927 Beston proposed to his girlfriend, accomplished writer Elizabeth Coatsworth. Believing in the importance of his manuscript Elizabeth told Beston: "No book, no marriage." He cultivated his collection of notes into The Outermost House. Beston gave it this title due to his belief that his shack on the Great Beach was the 'outermost' in the eastern United States. The book was published in October 1928. Henry and Elizabeth were married in June 1929.

    The Outermost House, released through Doubleday and Doran, was Beston's eighth published book. The initial sales were good and Beston even went to Europe to help promote it. In the first few years after the publishing of the book he would routinely pay visits to his beloved Fo'castle while also living in Hingham.

The Outermost House Cover, on sale at Amazon. 

    A visit to Damariscotta Lake, Maine to see his friend, painter Jake Day, saw Beston, Elizabeth and their two daughters head north. The family bought a parcel of land called Chimney Farm in the town of Nobleboro, Maine in 1931 and by 1933 they had permanently relocated there. Though he would occasionally return to Cape Cod in the coming decades, Beston for all intents and purposes was a Maine resident into retirement.

    So what of Fo'castle? The shack that became an icon of 20th century American literature? Sadly its position on the Great Beach of Eastham put it in danger from the get-go.  It was built only thirty-feet in from the sea.  Erosion rates have always been high on the Outer Cape. On the ocean-side of Eastham where Fo'castle resided the erosion rate was an average of 3.3-feet per year between 1865-2015.

    In March 1931 a large Nor'easter slammed Cape Cod, destroying two cottages on the Eastham dunes and pushing another into the Nauset Marsh. Another storm in January 1933 left Fo'castle only seven-feet from the bluffs edge. Beston himself expressed concern over his Outermost House succumbing to the elements. It was moved back from the receding bluffs soon thereafter.

    The years passed and the erosion continued. During the summer of 1948 once again the Outermost House found itself in danger. This time not only was it moved inland 200 yards, it was also reinforced and re-shingled to better protect it from all of the dangers that a shack on the beach might face. The move actually changed the direction Fo'castle faced. This was something Beston noticed upon a later visit to the shack as he quipped that somebody had 'moved the ocean.'

Henry Beston (Henry Beston Society)

    Though he grew distant from Cape Cod in his later years Beston remained important. He wrote the introduction for the 300th anniversary of the incorporation of his second home Eastham in 1951. The Outermost House author might have become settled in Maine but the shack itself remained. For those heading along Rt. 6 through Eastham one could lay eyes on Fo'castle out on the sandy spit in a clearing near the Eastham Town Hall.

    Beston retained ownership of the Outermost House throughout the 1950's. Though he was rarely there he allowed friends to stay there and bask in some of the inspiration he had relished. In 1959 he donated the shack and the fifty acres he owned to the Massachusetts Audubon Society. The nonprofit organization began renting the famed beach cottage to bird watchers among others. It is believed that Beston's donation and the general importance of The Outermost House and Fo'castle itself may have helped to spur on the creation of the Cape Cod National Seashore.

    The Seashore was created in 1961. Three years later in 1964 Fo'castle was designated a national literary monument by the United States Government. That same year on October 11, 1964 was Henry Beston Day at the Seashore in conjunction with the Audubon Society, National Park Service, and Massachusetts Governor Endicott Peabody. The ceremony was a success with a parade of beach buggies driving guests out to the shack. There would be an interpretive trail-side exhibit in the area surrounding the Outermost House for those venturing out to see it. It was a fitting tribute to a man that had put the natural beauty and wonder of Cape Cod on display for all of the world to read. This ended up being Henry Beston's last trip to the Cape.

    Beston died April 15, 1968 at his home in Nobleboro, Maine only a few weeks shy of his 80th birthday. His death sparked renewed interest in The Outermost House the book and shack. People traversed the Great Beach to gaze upon the inspiration for Beston's greatest work. Though erosion had been its greatest threat it was something totally unforeseen that spelled the end of Fo'castle.

    Between February 6-7, 1978 one of the most historic blizzards in New England history caught the region mostly by surprise. It was snow that covered most of the region, however it was wind and storm surge that affected Cape Cod. The high tide of 16-feet tore through the Outer Cape, briefly making the area north of Fort Hill in Eastham an island. Coast Guard Beach in Eastham was decimated. The vast 350-space parking lot collapsed forever changing the landscape of one of the Cape's most popular beaches. South of the Coast Guard station Fo'castle was pulled into the ocean by the raging waves. It was pushed back into the marsh and eventually torn to pieces.

The end of the Outermost House (Marilyn Schofield)

    The Outermost House was claimed by the very sea that Henry Beston romanticized in his book. Today there are no remains of the shack on the sandy spit south of Eastham's Coast Guard station. Since 1969 the beach has lost over 300-feet of shoreline making the Outermost House's original resting place under water now.

    Despite the changing shoreline due to erosion the solitude of the beaches on the Outer Cape are still soothing. They are a tremendous reminder of a simpler time on Cape Cod and in the world. They are also a reminder of how small we as humans are in this world. Henry Beston captured much of the allure and spirit in the Outermost House. Luckily one can still enjoy the expanse of sand and sea even if Fo'castle itself is all but a memory.

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My first eBook in 10 years, In Their Footsteps, featuring the interesting stories of Cape Cod's history, is on sale at Amazon.com. 

View my previous blog posts: 

In Their Footsteps: Cape Cod History - The Nantucket Lightship Station

In Their Footsteps: Cape Cod History - Bill Cox's Sea Grill

Photo Prints available here: Smug Mug.com

Be sure to check out my website: Christopher Setterlund.com