Lat: 41 57.682N
Long: 70 39.454W
We stepped ashore on this holy spot, taking care to lock our oars lest the local inhabitants feel inclined to relieve us of our mode of transportation. We first made our way to an establishment whereby we relinquished $3.50 of our money for two ice cream cones. We licked these, luxuriating in the passing stream of humanity while shading ourselves from the bright sun with the help of the oak and willow trees.
Welcome to Plymouth, Massachusetts, where white Americans made their entrance upon the New World in 1620. The replica of the Mayflower bobs at her dock; a jollyboat and a small carvel-planked sailing skiff attached to her like little remora fish. She stands so high and unstable you look in awe and wonder at those hardy souls � all 100 of them - who trusted their lives when they made their way here 380 years ago.
Only half their number made it through that first winter. And the rest would probably have perished had they not been aided by the local Indians who showed them how to plant local crops that would thrive in this climate.
We came ashore to do more pedestrian things: send email, do our laundry, get groceries, take a shower. Most of this was accomplished at the yacht yard that lies near the famous rock on which the first settlers planted their feet when they came ashore. Well, maybe they did and maybe they didn�t. None of the Pilgrims said anything about the rock for about 60 years. But one hustling dude in the early 1700s talked to a 95-year-old original settler who mentioned stepping on a rock to get off the boat. And so the town father set about locating the rock. It now is enshrined in a tabernacle with notes to the visitor: �Please do not toss coins on the rock�.
It also is only a third of its original size because early ne�er-do-wells chipped off mementos and made off with bits of rock.
