Select City Highpoints

On May 11, 2017 · 4 Comments

I’m not much of a highpointer, and a begrudging one at best, although I maintain a kinship with those who follow this pursuit. I like the concept of highpointing more than the actual climbing of summits. That’s why I find myself occasionally visiting sites like peakbagger.com and examining things like its Peak Lists. I admit, I lifted many of the ideas for today’s article from its Selected World City High Points, and I’d do it again. City highpoints never got much attention. They fell way down on the pecking order behind national, state and county highpoints. I decided to give a few city highpoints the attention they deserved. I ordered my list from lame to grand.

Unnamed


City of Toronto Highpoint
Toronto, Ontario Highpoint
via Google Maps 3D, 2017

Toronto didn’t appear on that peakbagger list. Nonetheless I felt I should take a look anyway. The Canadian city with its largest population certainly deserved some attention. A great city in a great nation undoubtedly marked its highest elevation with a spectacular monument. Well, no, not really. Toronto’s maximum elevation of 212 meters (696 feet) barely rose above the surrounding terrain. Trip reports described an underwhelming experience, essentially walking onto a field (map) directly across the road from York University. I did notice that a regular Twelve Mile Circle reader posted one of the trip reports so that was a nice bonus.

The generally flat field covered a large reservoir of underground oil tanks. It seemed odd, as I considered it, that sports fields would be built atop oil tanks, although I supposed it must have been safe or they wouldn’t have done it. The fields served as home base for the Toronto Azzurri Soccer Club, with the specific highpoint found on what they called the West Fields. I can never remember where people call the sport Soccer and where they call it Football. Apparently Canada went with the soccer variation, or at least one club in Toronto did. I’m sure the Canadian 12MC audience will correct me if I’m wrong.

I doubted that any kids kicking soccer balls across a field atop oil tanks appreciated their exalted location upon Toronto’s summit.


Chancery Lane at High Holborn


City (High Holborn, 22m)
City (High Holborn, 22m) Junction with Chancery Lane. Photo by diamond geezer on Flickr (cc)

Peakbagger suggested a highpoint for London, England although I disagreed. It focused on Greater London and I’ll get to that in a moment. I wanted the actual City of London, a very tiny area of barely more than a square mile. The possibility of an exciting highpoint within such a small urban footprint seemed remote. It met my paltry expectations and nothing more. The actual spot registered maybe a notch better than Toronto only because it fell within a fairly busy, seemingly dynamic area. The highpoint could be discerned on the eastern side of Chancery Lane near its junction with High Holborn (map). It registered a measly elevation of 22 m (72 ft).

People who "climbed" to the summit recorded some interesting trip reports. One person said, "I’d walked across this pavement summit several times whilst working in London, without realising it was a high point." Another offered a recommendation to future climbers, "Suggest you do this one from Chancery Lane tube station, then at least you walk slightly uphill to it." Everyone seemed rather unimpressed.

Westerham Heights appeared as the highpoint on the Peakbagger list (map), at 245 metres (804 ft). However, that applied to Greater London, comprised of all 32 London boroughs plus the City of London. It wasn’t much more spectacular either, at 245 m (804 ft), "A rather unpleasant high point opposite Westerham Heights Farm; on a blind bend, the verge of a fast dangerous road, the A233."


Mount Lukens


Mount Lukens, view from Beaudry Loop
Mount Lukens, view from Beaudry Loop. Photo by Vahe Martirosyan on Flickr (cc)

A similar situation appeared in Los Angeles, California although the highpoint was much more prominent. I didn’t want the Los Angeles county highpoint, Mount San Antonio (aka Mount Baldy) at an impressive 3,068 m (10,064 ft). I wanted the city highpoint. The summit of Mount Lukens (map) reached 1,547 m (5,074 feet). While it didn’t reach quite the same stature as Mount Baldy, it still hit a pretty good altitude. At least it was a real mountain, too. It sounded amazing.

Mount Lukens stands majestically above the Crescenta Valley as the western most peak of the San Gabriel Mountains front range… It’s western flank drops over 3,000 feet affording terrific views of the San Fernando Valley to the southwest and the Verdugo Mountains and the Los Angeles Basin to the south. On exceptional days both the south and west facing beaches can be seen.

That made Los Angeles the city with the highest elevation of the 50 largest cities in the United States.


Montmartre


Montmartre
Montmartre. Photo by heroesbed on Flickr (cc)

However, Montmartre, the highest point of elevation in Paris, France, impressed me the most (map). A highpoint should look like this. It actually fell outside of the city limits until 1860 when it was annexed to become part of the 18th arrondissement. While the summit climbed only 130 m (430 ft), French authorities took full advantage of the situation. What does one do with such a prominent peak? Stick a basilica atop it and make it look even taller! The Basilica of Sacré-Cœur, dedicated to the sacred heart of Jesus, underwent construction on Montmartre between 1875 and 1914. What a lovely setting. No wonder artists such as Pablo Picasso, Vincent van Gogh and Claude Monet spent time on Montmartre.

On May 11, 2017 · 4 Comments

An Arm and a Leg

On May 7, 2017 · 2 Comments

I stumbled upon Joe Batt’s Arm again. I first became acquainted with Joe Batt and his arm when Twelve Mile Circle investigated Mundane First Name Places about a year ago. The settlement grew along an inlet, colloquially called an arm, that formed a part of its name. It still amused me all these months later when I came across it once again. However, I couldn’t repeat what I’d reported before so I decided to find additional appendages.

Arm


The pub with no beer
The pub with no beer. Photo by Jules Hawk on Flickr (cc)

Towns featuring Arms appeared all along Canada’s North Atlantic coastline, although particularly in Newfoundland and Labrador. Joe Batt’s Arm fell within that category, of course. Sporadic instances of Arms could be seen in other parts of the world although not nearly enough to create a trend except in Australia. There, another concentration of Arms appeared on the eastern edge of New South Wales and Queensland so I decided to concentrate my efforts there. I could have selected any number of Australian locations, however I focused on Taylors Arm for a particular reason. It featured The Pub with No Beer. Paradoxically, the Pub with No Beer (map) not only served beer, it even brewed its own beer.

The Sydney Morning Herald explained the odd designation.

The history of The Pub With No Beer dates back to 1943, when farmer Dan Sheahan went to the Day Dawn Hotel in Ingham, north of Queensland, only to find American soldiers had drunk the pub dry of beer. With a glass of wine in hand instead, he penned A Pub Without Beer. Country singer Gordon Parsons adapted the song to A Pub With No Beer, basing it on his own local at Taylors Arm, then called the Cosmopolitan Hotel. When his friend Slim Dusty recorded the song in 1957, it became an Australian chart-topper.



It’s lonesome away, from your kindred and all
By the campfire at night, where the wild dingoes call
But there’s nothing so lonesome, so morbid or drear
Than to stand in a bar, of a pub with no beer

Slim Dusty, Australia’s "Father of Country Music" passed away in 2003 although the Pub with No Beer continued to live on in Taylors Arm.


Leg


DWÓR W ŁĘGU TARNOWSKIM, fot. M. Klag (MIK, 2009)
DWÓR W ŁĘGU TARNOWSKIM. Photo by mik Krakow on Flickr (cc)

Done with Arms, I switched to Legs. However Legs didn’t appear nearly as frequently as Arms. I found only a single nation with lots of Legs. Poland contained several villages simply called Łęg. It also had several instances of Łęg combined with other identifiers (e.g., Łęg Ręczyński, Łęg Starościński, Brzozowo Łęg). I tried to find what Łęg meant, even turning to Polish-English dictionaries. I figured it must be a noun although I couldn’t determine if it represented some sort of geographic feature or something completely unrelated. Also it appeared to be pronounced something like "wenk" not leg. Still, Łęg looked close enough to Leg so I went with it.

I found only one Łęg photograph with a creative commons license, a place called Łęg Tarnowski (map). That prompted me to turn to the Polish version of Wikipedia for more information. Polish differed from English so completely that I couldn’t even find cognates. Nonetheless, assuming the accuracy of Google Translate, it seemed the town along the Dunajec River dated back to the 16th Century.


Hand


Fingerpost at B2102/Warren Lane, Cross-in-Hand
Fingerpost at B2102/Warren Lane, Cross-in-Hand. Photo by Matt Davis on Flickr (cc)

Thank goodness for England. I didn’t think I would find a decent Hand or Foot. England provided both.

Hand came in the form of Cross in Hand (map). You know, the village just down the road from Blackboys and Uckfield? Cross in Hand seemed to be quite the Christian name. What religious source, I wondered, led to such an explicit reference? I found a number of references although they all seemed to begin with the infamous "legend says" qualifier. With that in mind, and with the proper asterisk in place, I decided to repeat the supposed explanation. There was a general belief that Crusaders met there as they began their journey to the Holy Land during the Middle Ages. There didn’t seem to be much of a compelling reason to meet at that particular spot although maybe it seemed more conducive a few centuries ago.

In fairness, I did find a Hand in the United States too. It came in the form of Hand County, South Dakota (map). As explained,

Hand County was created in 1873 and organized in 1888. It was named for George W. Hand, a native of Akron, Ohio, and a Civil War Veteran. He came to Yankton in 1865. In 1860 he was appointed United States Attorney for Dakota Territory, serving until 1869. From 1874 to 1883, he was Register of the Yankton Land Office and Secretary of Dakota Territory.

That occurrence seemed considerably less dramatic than the legend of Cross in Hand. Just about anybody, it seemed, could get a South Dakota county named for them in the late Nineteenth Century.


Foot


Luddendenfoot
Luddendenfoot. Photo by Tim Green on Flickr (cc)

I also found a foot, specifically Luddenden Foot (map). Sometimes this appeared without the space between the two as in Luddendenfoot. To understand Luddenden Foot, one must first understand Luddenden.

The name means Ludd valley, or valley of the loud stream and refers to the Luddenden Brook. An alternative meaning refers to the Celtic water god Lud, who gave his name to many water-related features. This was a Brythonic area, speaking a form of primitive Welsh, until perhaps the 9th century as a relict of the kingdom of Elmet.

Luddenden Foot was situated adjacent to and downhill from Luddenden. In other words, it grew at the foot of Luddenden. I guess that made it the town at the foot of the town in the valley of the loud stream, at least by one interpretation. I loved that name.

On May 7, 2017 · 2 Comments

Moron

On May 4, 2017 · 1 Comments

Calling someone a moron would be offensive, maybe even fighting words. It derived from Greek for stupid or foolish, and later came down through Latin with a similar meaning, then finally passed along to modern languages. I knew it retained that meaning when it came to English, certainly more widely recognized than the colloquial use of something like Nimrod. However, it couldn’t mean the same thing universally across other languages. Still, it surprised me to see a Moron in Haiti. They wouldn’t name a town Moron unless it meant something other than moron would they?

Moron, Grand’Anse, Haiti


Moron, Haiti after Hurricane Matthew
Moron, Haiti after Hurricane Matthew. Photo by CDC Global on Flickr (cc)

I spotted Moron (map) as I researched the ladylike place of Dame Marie, both of them found in Haiti’s Grand’Anse department. Very little information existed about either location. I did learn that people from Moron call themselves Moronais. Unfortunately Haitians had more to be concerned about than posting information about obscure settlements on the Intertubes. Hurricane Matthew devastated the entire Southern Peninsula. At least 85 people died in Moron in a situation described as apocalyptic. Only 25,000 people lived in Moron so the deaths represented a horrific toll.

I imagined Moron must have meant something different in French or Creole although I couldn’t figure it out.


Morón de la Frontera, Spain


Moron de la Frontera
Moron de la Frontera. Photo by G B on Flickr (cc)

A Spanish translation offered better possibilities. Morón de la Frontera in Seville seemed to be the most noteworthy example out of several in the Spanish speaking world (map). Morón meant Hummock, as in a little knoll or mound. Alternately, people of Moorish ancestry dominated the area around Morón de la Frontera from the 8th through 13th Centuries. That possibly influenced the name as well. The Frontera portion of its name referred to its placement on the border with Grenada. Morón sat on a frontier during this period.


Morón, Argentina



Argentina contained a substantial Morón within the larger Buenos Aires metropolitan area. Nobody really knew how this one got its name either. It could have come from the name of an early landowner; it could have come from Morón de la Frontera, or possibly from some other source. The town became very prosperous over time and later became the site of the Universidad de Morón. Moron University would seem to be an oxymoron in English, although I assumed it was a solid institution without any stigma in its native Spanish.


Lac de Moron, France/Switzerland


Lac de Moron
Lac de Moron. Photo by Denis De Mesmaeker on Flickr (cc)

Back in Europe, along the border between France and Switzerland, stood Lac de Moron (map). The Doubs River began in the Jura Mountains, a portion of the Western Alps. From there it flowed into the Saône River, then onward into the Rhône. A portion of the Doubs flowed through a steep valley and it seemed to be a great place to build a dam for a reservoir. The Châtelot Dam was built in 1953, creating Lac de Moron, shared between the Doubs department of France and the Swiss canton of Neuchâtel. It generated electricity for both nations.


Mörön, Mongolia


Moron2008
Moron 2008 on Wikimedia Commons (cc)

Not all moron locations got their names from European words or place names. I found a rather substantive Mörön in Mongolia (map). It actually meant "river" and locals pronounced it something like mu-roon, not moron. Nonetheless, I didn’t have a lot of Mongolian sites on my Complete Index Page so I kept it on the list. This one didn’t exist until the early Nineteenth Century. Here, along the Delgermörön river, rose the Möröngiin Khuree monastery. A settlement later grew around it as the years passed. Eventually Mörön became the capital of the Khövsgöl province, with more than thirty thousand residents. Surprisingly, I noticed it even had Street View coverage.

It made me wonder about places in the English-speaking world that sounded rude or insulting in foreign languages. Does anyone know of any?

On May 4, 2017 · 1 Comments
Purpose
12 Mile Circle:
An Appreciation of Unusual Places
Subscribe
Don't miss an article -
Subscribe to the feed!

RSS G+ Twitter
RSS Twelve Mile Circle Google Plus Twitter
Categories
Monthly Archives
Days with Posts
May 2017
S M T W T F S
« Apr    
 123456
78910111213
14151617181920
21222324252627
28293031