Friday dawned early. I'd left the balcony door open, and the curtains pulled, and my room faced directly to the east. Not that there was much of a dawn, it was a gray, overcast day. But still enough to wake me up early. Got up, got ready and headed back into Innsmouth proper. I'd looked up parking online, and found a place kind of center. Seemed a better idea to pay for a day's parking vs trying to find parking as I moved around, plus more fun to walk through the old streets and houses. So I did.

There was no plan as I went. I wanted to go to the harbor, and I had some landmarks, and stores I wanted to visit, but I just went as the mood and feet took me. Had breakfast at a crowded little diner called 'Sugar Magnolia'. Omelet (big chunks of tomato and bacon in it), potatoes and toast. Went from there to 'The Bookstore of Gloucester', which was a small but nice little shop with new books. As it my habit, I picked up a book about local history, and some postcards/art cards. Also met the store pup, Finn. A little snow white...something. Cute guy, gave me a sniff, got his pettings, then took his human out to pee (he peed, not the human... I think). I then walked to the harbor, stared out at the water for a long while (I did that a lot this trip). Saw the memorial to all the fishermen who'd died over the years. All the names that are known are written down, going back centuries, up until the 2000s. It's humbling.

On a lighter note, the various kinds of gulls around were yelling at each other, different calls. Really sounded like they were cursing each other out. After the harbor, I walked up though the town going towards one of the landmarks, the Esoteric Order of Dagon Hall (or American Legion Post #3, if you believe in such things). I would say of what I learned there, but I am bound by the Second Oath. Oddly, there's also a statue of Joan of Arc across the street, a memorial to those who fought in WWI. What's funny, I only just realized it was Joan of Arc. I was distracted I guess. From there I went The Sargent House, one of the original fancy homes in town. Old Georgian mansion, which is always a good excuse to get out of the drizzle. The house was built for a Judith Sargent Stevens Murray in 1782, she one was of the early feminists. I showed up just as a tour was starting, so I joined in. Beautiful house, lots of portraits on the walls, very cool furniture, and my fellow tour takers were big art and history nerds from NJ, so they asked tons of questions I didn't think to ask. Some books on display, including a family bible that was epic in size. Of course, it could have also been the Necronomicon, but I wasn't willing to risk it. Historians will have your arm off for offenses like that. If you're in the area, I highly recommend visiting. The tour takes about an hour, and it's worth it. I wonder if the local bus driver comes here a lot...

I'm cutting Friday off here because I've been writing for almost 2 hours, and I'm running out of tentacles. Tune in next time for stories of me semi-randomly going to another Innsmouth, wandering around Essex environs, and maybe actually finding where my port of dreams is...

I headed back to the hotel, stopping by a local grocery store (Not, sadly of the First National Chain), and picked up snacks. My hotel room had a kitchenette with a fridge, so I got some fruit and cheese along with soda and chips and cookies. I read for a while til dusk set it, then I went for a walk along the private (to hotel guests and people living in the houses in the immediate area.) Sandy beach, like what I grew up with, but with a lot of small/mid sized rocks, well water worn. I'm not sure if that's fill, or that's what was original there and they brought in sand, or what. After a while, I stopped, picked a memorable spot to stow my socks and shoes. got rid of them, and walked down to the surf.

Ye gods and little fishies, it was COLD. I grew up swimming in the Atlantic, but that was a few hundred miles south, and usually later in the year...and oh yeah, not in the evening *laugh* Still, wow. But once the initial shock wore off, and my bones stopped trying to shrink around the pin in my ankle, it felt good. First 1/3rd of my life was spent within easy distance of the ocean, and I miss it. And it felt like I'd come home. I've been to the Atlantic a few times since I moved to Texas, twice in the last few years. But this is the first time I let myself to be in the water, even if it was only up to my calves. Oh, part of me wanted to go swimming. But the wiser part of me remembers that I'm not a great swimmer, that the water was bloody cold, and that swimming at night can be dangerous. Especially if you don't know the water. So ignored the siren call and just stood there. Well, not just stood. I was reminded that even in shallow water like I was in, the Atlantic will move you around. Water flowing over feet will pull sand from under you, and suddenly you're in a hole with an unexpected swelling knocking you over. So think of it as half trancing out to the sound of waves and the feel of water, and half Irish step dancing as you try to keep balance. I could feel all the negative feelings I'd had the last few months drain out. Stress, sadness, anger...all pulled out. I don't care what you believe or don't believe, in moments like that you realize why people have always loved, worshiped and feared the ocean, often all at once. Been a long time since I felt that peaceful about anything.

Stayed out there for a while, eventually decided that the cold was winning out, so I came back on land (with some regrets), listened to the waves for a while longer, then decided the mosquitoes that ignored me in the surf, decided I was fair game on land. So I beat a retreat for for hotel room, where I hid behind a mesh screen and read, finally going to bed with the ocean singing to me live, instead of from the white noise generator playing a recording of the ocean.

I don't recall if I dreamed (any of the nights I was in Innsmouth), but I haven't slept that soundly in forever.

[RAW]
Innsmouth is a town of wide extent and dense construction…(Ok, yes I know
it’s Gloucester, but this is my blog, and from here on out it’s getting called
Innsmouth). Lots of older homes and buildings, some new stuff that fits in,
and some stuff that just plain looks weird. The main streets are like
most any street USA, but if go down the side streets it gets kind of…
cramped. Especially since parking is at a premium, so everyone parks at
the curb if possible. Got turned around a bunch, (a common theme) but
finally made it to The Pilot House, which is a strange but cool mix of
American bar food, and Chinese and Japanese Food. I went for the sushi,
my usuals, plus a appetizer that was a mix of spicy tuna, avocado, and rice
with eel sauce, deep fried, with more eel sauce on top. (I’m a huge fan
of the sauce they put on freshwater eel sushi, so this was just heaven)
The waitress was
very friendly and attentive (and pretty darn cute too, nice big eyes), and the food was great. Lots of locals came in to grab take out orders, also a good
sign. I left with leftovers and a very contented stomach.



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