This isn’t intended as a biography of Captain James Cook although his voyages throughout the South Pacific and beyond were numerous and legendary. Rather this is about places named for Captain Cook, strewn about the waters he sailed and the shorelines he charted. He has an entire society named for him if other aspects of his remarkable life interest you.
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Certainly I’d read about Captain Cook in history books as I went through school, however I can’t say I’d really though much about him since then. That’s not intended to dismiss his contributions as much as to note that I’d simply focused on other topics. This began to change during my most recent trip to Alaska a couple of years ago. The preponderance of Alaskan residents and visitors alike can find a near-daily reminder of Cook’s legacy if they are attentive: Cook Inlet is the big arm of water connecting Anchorage to the Gulf of Alaska and the open sea. Indeed, "Anchorage" connotes a ship-friendly place where one could load and unload via Cook Inlet.
Captain Cook didn’t discover Cook Inlet. The Dena’ina (Tanaina), an Athabascan people, already lived there for millennia. He wasn’t even the first European to arrive. Russian fur traders beat him to the Alaskan coastline as well. Nonetheless Cook sailed into this specific body of water during his 1778 expedition while searching for the legendary Northwest Passage. Subsequent explorers named the inlet for Cook and the name stuck. Life works that way sometimes.
That never would have registered on my mind either except that we visited Captain Cook State Recreation Area on the inlet’s southern edge along the Kenai Peninsula. It finally resonated once I was slapped silly about the head with the name. Only then did it finally connect with my conscious. I don’t profess to be the brightest or most observant geo-geek.
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I thought it was interesting but I didn’t do much with the notion until a few days ago. That’s when I noticed a 12MC visitor landing on the website from Captain Cook, Hawaii. Fascinating. I’d never heard of it before. It turns out to be a census-designated place (not formally a town) on the western side of the island of Hawaii, the Big Island. It is located along Kealakekua Bay. Captain Cook stopped here in 1779, upset the natives, and died after being clubbed about the head and stabbed. Thus ended the career of Captain James Cook.
It’s fitting, I suppose, that a town would bear Captain Cook’s name here and that a monument would be erected in his honor nearby in Kealakekua Bay State Historical Park. Except the town isn’t named for him!
Let me explain. Yes, he was definitely the Captain Cook in question. There wasn’t some other Captain Cook traipsing around Hawaii in the Eighteenth Century sewing geographic confusion. The settlement was named in the early 1900′s for a post office at the Captain Cook Coffee Company. Therefore, technically the town was named for the coffee that was named for the Captain. It would be like someone naming a town Cap’n Crunch because it happened to be co-located with the Quaker Oats Company. Well, maybe it’s not quite that bad but you get the point.
By the way, the Captain Cook Coffee Co. still exists: "Captain Cook is one of the oldest existing coffee companies in Hawaii. Since the 1880’s, Captain Cook has been growing and processing raw green Kona coffee." I wasn’t expecting that at all. I would have thought they’d be long gone.
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There are other places named for the Captain. One is a point of land ("Captain Cook Point") in Lane County, Oregon.
Captain Cook Point isn’t marked as such by Google Maps. However the coordinates are listed in the USGS Geographic Names Information System (GNIS) so it’s legitimate. I do see "Cooks Chasm" on Google Maps which lends it an additional air of credibility. Captain Cook spotted nearby Cape Perpetua in 1778 so he definitely sailed past this stretch of Oregon coastline.
The coincidences continue. I could have visited Captain Cook Point if I’d only explored the weird checkerboard during my recent Oregon adventure. That’s another geo-oddity I can add to my long list of lost opportunities.
The previous-mentioned Captain Cook place names are all found within the United States. There are plenty of others located outside of the US, in and around and throughout the South Pacific:
- The Cook Islands (map) is the most obvious example: a self-governing nation in free association with New Zealand.
- Cook Strait (map): the narrow body of water separating New Zealand’s North and South Islands.
- Cooktown, Queensland, Australia (map): near where Cook beached his ship in 1770 for repairs.
- James Cook University (map): a public university in Townsville, Queensland, Australia
- Cook Crater (map): on the moon, yes the moon!
I’ve enjoyed my little sailing adventure with Captain Cook this morning. This list of course is by no means all-inclusive; I have only so much time to write. Please feel free to list others if I’ve neglected your personal favorite(s).
On January 6, 2011 · Comments Off
I’m back to my antipodes fixation again, a recurring theme here on the Twelve Mile Circle. I’d placed this one on my mental list as I researched the Closest Antipodal National Capitals a few weeks ago. Today I feature the Antipodes Islands Group of New Zealand.
SOURCE: New Zealand Department of Conservation
The Antipodes Islands, part of a collective of Sub-Antarctic islands that form a larger UNESCO World Heritage Site, are forbidding and isolated. Their uninhabited volcanic peaks rise from the south Pacific Ocean southeast of the rest of New Zealand by about 800 kilometres. Technically these are "islands" (plural) although most of the land can be found on a single Antipodes Island (singular) which rises to 366 metres at Mt. Galloway. Other landforms include Bollons Island, Leeward Island and Archway Island.
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The Antipodes Islands were not charted until 1800. It didn’t take long for mankind to exploit them. Ships came to the islands between 1805 and 1807 to hunt the native seal population for fur. Two years was all it took for sealers to completely decimate the population to the point of near extinction. After that, the Antipodes Islands escaped much attention other than a single halfhearted settlement attempt and occasional shipwrecks. There are not many animal lifeforms to be found here other than birds.
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With a name like the Antipodes Islands, one expects that its antipodal equivalent would be something fairly significant. However, the antipodes for most of the Antipodes Islands fall onto water. A small portio hits dry land near the French commune of Gatteville-le-Phare, located on the Cotentin Peninsula east of Cherbourg-Octeville in Normandy. I’m not sure if many people would consider a village of 500 people to be "significant" but that doesn’t tell the actual story. Gatteville-le-Phare has nothing to do with it.
I’ll let the Government of New Zealand explain the situation:
The Antipodes Islands were discovered in 1800 and named "Penantipodes" by their discoverer, Captain Waterhouse of H.M.S. Reliance, because of its situation near the antipodes of London (i.e. a line drawn directly through the earth from London comes out very close to the Antipodes Islands). Over time the name has been shortened to "Antipodes."
London does seem a little more noteworthy than Gatteville-le-Phare, although with no offense to the fine citizens of Gatteville-le-Phare. I’m sure it’s a lovely place.
Thus, the mystery has been revealed. The prefix "pene" comes from Latin, paene, meaning nearly or almost. We see it applied geographically in a more familiar word that I already used above — Peninsula. Insula is Latin for island, so a Peninsula is an almost-island.
I’m not sure what I find more entertaining: that Captain Waterhouse saw these barren rocks and thought to himself, hey, I can’t think of a name right now but you know they’re kind-of close to London’s antipode; or that someone later shortened the name either because it was awkward or he didn’t understand the derivation of the term. It’s become a source of confusion every since.
On July 23, 2008 · Comments Off
I arrived in Arizona just fine on the flight made possible by John McCain so I’m posting from Phoenix today. Arizona continues to surprise me. It’s summertime so we’re in that half of the year when the clocks align with the Pacific states. Arizona does not recognize Daylight Saving Time, as I’ve explained in a previous post. Fortunately I already know that so I wasn’t embarrassed by this phenomenon as I was a number of years ago. No, this time the surprise was the weather.
Before I left on this trip, it seemed that everyone wanted to remind me rather sarcastically that “it’s a dry heat.” Yes, and so’s an oven. That’s what I was expecting to find when I hopped on that plane and dropped down into the desert a few hours later. But we’re in the monsoon season here. I’d absolutely love a DRY heat right now. Yesterday it hit 108 degrees with a dew point at 68. That’s just nasty.
This is a view from downtown Phoenix looking towards South Mountain. Notice the clouds. This doesn’t seem like something that should be in the desert. Thunderstorms are rocking southern and central Arizona. Just a week ago there was flooding nearby (it seems everywhere I go this summer I’m running into flooding… what’s up with that?). Weather patterns have changed.
The monsoon generally arrives in Arizona by the first or second week of July and will last well into September. While it’s not as pronounced as the famous monsoons in India, it has the same basic underlying characteristic: a seasonal change in prevailing winds. The winds shift so that they originate from the south or southeast, pumping moisture up from the Sea of Cortez, the Pacific Ocean or perhaps even the Gulf of Mexico. It runs along the hot desert floor to create tremendous afternoon thunderstorms. It’s not a constant torrential downpour like monsoons in other parts of the world. It’s not even every day or in every location. When it does hit though, it’s with a ferocious intensity.
