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ESSEX — In days of yore, a gentleman would spread his cloak on the ground so that a lady wouldn’t get her feet wet or dirty.
Modern-day gentlemen take off their shoes and socks, roll up their pants, and build a makeshift bridge.
It was all part of a day’s work for Matthew MacKenzie, Crane outdoors manager with the Trustees of Reservations.
His work added a little touch of adventure to an otherwise pleasant walk at the annual Choate Island Day on Saturday.
And while it was still possible to splash through the seawater, which is still in the low 60s, there appeared to be limited appetite to do that.
Choate Island Day
Although the island is in Essex, the day started at the Crane Beach parking lot. People signed in and waited for a school bus to ferry them to the dock on the Ipswich side of the river.
The cost for Trustees’ members was $30, while non-members paid $45. There were discounts for kids.
On the bus, Mary Little of Salem said she found the event online. “It just sounded so interesting,” she said. “I’m here just by myself, so I can take it all in — and Salem’s a nightmare.”
After the short ride, attendees were greeted by Valerie Perini, the Trustees’ nature engagement manager.
She handed out maps, told families there was a kids’ scavenger hunt, and warned people about the king tide, which would cut off access to the old Choate Farmhouse.
Perini said the tide would be highest between noon and 2 p.m. and advised people to time their trips accordingly.
“It’s not a safety issue,” she said. “You just may be going through knee-deep water.”
However, it is also a learning opportunity, she added, as tides will get higher as sea levels increase.
Perini also gave a little history of the island, now part of the Crane Wildlife Refuge, which has three historic buildings.
Built in 1730, the Choate House is the oldest of these buildings. It still has most of its First Period features intact, including wide pine floors made from old-growth forests harvested by the first settlers.
Perini said that wood was “king’s lumber” and was supposed to be shipped to England. Holding on to it was a sign of dissent, she said — hardly surprising, since one of the family signed the Declaration of Independence.
Boat ride
After the Essex River Cruises pontoon pulled away from the dock, Trustees volunteer Paul Theriault again warned about the king tide and the small section of trail that would be underwater.
He also told visitors that if they had a medical emergency, they should call 911 first instead of trying to find a Trustees volunteer or staffer.
“For minor scrapes and stuff, there are first-aid kits,” he said, advising people to stay on the trails.
“We’re in New England,” Theriault noted. “There are ticks and poison ivy.”
With the safety spiel imparted, he then turned to a little history. Eight generations of Choates lived on the island before they sold up to the Cranes.
There was also an active community, he noted. “There were cottages here. There was a whole social life on the island.”
HistoricIpswich.org said that as the island population dwindled, the last remaining Choates petitioned Essex to change the name from the “inelegant” Hogs Island to Choate Island in October 1887.
“It is said that no less than eighty-two persons of the name of Choate have been born upon this island,” the petitioners said.
Descendant
Theriault also noted that Martha Brandt would be at the old house to read from the book Downriver: A Memoir of Choate Island.
The book was written by her parents, Mary and Roger Choate Wonson, and contained poems by her grandmother, Agnes Choate Wonson.
Now out of print, some of those books are selling for $250 online. However, Theriault noted that he, his wife, Margaret, and Brandt are working on a second edition that they hope to publish soon.
After the boat landed, attendees were free to explore the island. Some took off at a brisk pace, while others lingered at the dock to review information.
At one booth, there was information about sand movement at Crane Beach. For anyone wondering about the boardwalk steps that are suddenly buried, nature shifted around 117 dump trucks worth of sand in the area.
He tells (about) sea shells
At a second booth, Trustees volunteer T.J. Cullinane had a display of shells and other remnants of sea life.
He pointed to a Neptune’s whelk shell and told how the animal preys on clams: it secretes a nerve toxin to loosen the clam’s muscles which opens the shells. The whelk then inserts its stomach into the clam and eats it.
“Happy as a clam? Who thought that was a thing?” Cullinane asked.
He also noted that the Neptune’s whelk, with its iconic shape, is the official state shell.
One wit said that given the shenanigans that go on in the State House, it’s an apt emblem.
The last Choate on the island
In the Choate House, Brandt was waiting for people before her scheduled reading at noon.
She explained that Agnes Choate, her grandmother, was the last Choate to live on the island. However, they lived in town and used to summer on the island, Brandt said.
The family sold to the Cranes in 1916, but the Choates and Cranes were on good terms. “So when I was growing up, we came out every summer by boat and picnicked here,” she said.
Although the king tide was doing its thing, plenty of people still wanted to get to and from the old farmhouse.
With the tide rising, it was time to beat a retreat from the farmhouse and check out the more modern 19th-century building.
Choate Island Day 2023
The Trustees’ Russ Hopping was giving a talk there on saving the marshes, while volunteers Susan and Stoney Stone were being popular by handing out doughnuts and cider.
“This is when Choate Island becomes accessible,” Stoney said.
Waiting for their boat back at the docks, Julie Princi was showing Torii Bottomley two pictures she had taken years apart of her older kids, Antonio and Téa.
She took a picture of them in the barn in 2014 and found the same location to re-stage the photo.
Back at the Ipswich dock, there was another reminder of the king tide as attendees waited for the school bus.
The vehicle lumbered down the dirt path, hugging the dry side before pulling to a stop.
It departed for the parking lot, slowing for a mother deer and fawn before disgorging its occupants.
There was one final king tide reminder on the way home: the water flowing strongly over Argilla Road and into the marsh beyond.
