The Origin of East of the Equator

Recently, I have been asked about the name we gave to our cottage, East of the Equator. I have had people tell me, "You can't be east of the equator," or "Don't you know anything about navigation? How can you be east of a line around the Earth?" I think that it is high time to explain the origin, or genesis of the term East of the Equator.

gen·e·sis

   [jen-uh-sis]

noun, plural -ses  [-seez]

an origin, creation, or beginning.

First off, I know a lot about navigation. I was a U.S. Navy Surface Warfare Officer for 22 years, driving ships all over the oceans of this fair planet. I have sailed in the Pacific, Atlantic and Indian Oceans. I have been deployed to the Arabian Gulf, the Caribbean, the Persian Gulf and the Mediterranean Sea. I have navigated the Straits of Hormuz, the Straits of Gibraltar and the Panama Canal. I am a Golden Shellback. I was the Navigator of USS FLETCHER (DD 992) from 1988-1990, in the days before GPS. I became very familiar with celestial navigation to use the stars to find my way across and back again on the Pacific Ocean. I know my way around a chart and a sextant.

Now, let's step back in time to when I was an Ensign serving aboard my first ship, USS NIAGARA FALLS (AFS 3). The FALLS was homeported in Guam and it was common for my ship to be underway 75% of the time. The motto of the ship was "Mobile Support for Seapower." And mobile we were. Whenever a carrier battle group deployed to the western Pacific or Indian Ocean, an AFS would deploy with the group to provide logistics support.

From August 13, 2011

Here is an image of the FALLS underway:

From August 13, 2011

In April, 1987, we deployed to the Indian Ocean to support the USS CONSTELLATION (CV 63) and Battle Group DELTA. At the time, one of the few places where U.S. Navy ships could go in that area of the world was a small island seven degrees south of the Equator in the middle of the Indian Ocean called Diego Garcia. Dee-Gar, as it is also known as, has been in the hands of the UK since the end of the Napoleonic Wars. Though the Brits own the island, the U.S. military is the primary inhabitant. In the 1970s, the U.S. started expanding the airfield and the port facilities to allow for military aircraft and ships to use Diego Garcia as a forward staging base. It was the only truly friendly land for the U.S. for thousands of miles. During this expansion period, single-wide trailer homes were shipped to the island to house the military and support personnel building the more permanent structures on the island. Many of these "single-wides" remained in place after permanent quarters were built. Some of these trailers were placed a few feet from the ocean with a small deck to overlook the sea. In time, most of the trailers were removed, but the ones placed close to the ocean remained and access to these trailers would be given to the Wardroom of ships that pulled into Diego Garcia.

Below is an image of the island taken from the air. As you can see, there is not a lot of land there:

From August 13, 2011

Now we are getting to the meat of my story. Recall that earlier I wrote that I was an Ensign aboard the FALLS. An Ensign is the entry level rank for U.S. Navy officers. Typically, the Ensigns of a ship are tasked with menial, but important tasks for the Wardroom, such as picking up and distributing the mail, and setting up places ashore for the other officers to go to relax and unwind. So, the first time the FALLS pulled into Diego Garcia in the summer of 1987, I was tasked with stocking the aforementioned single-wide with beer, soft drink and munchies for my fellow Wardroom members to go after work for a drink. We called our single-wide the Hooch.

Typically, our work day ended ~1730, and if you did not have duty, you would more often than not go to the Officer's Club for dinner, and then walk the 100 yards or so to the single-wide to take in the sunset and drink a couple adult beverages. Our first stay in Diego Garcia lasted 6 weeks, so there were plenty of opportunities to head to the Hooch. We ended up making five more port visits to Diego Garcia during this deployment. There were many memorable nights spent there, taking in the sights and sounds of the sea as the day ebbed into night. At the Hooch we came to say that is was a place "just east of the equator, where it is always a quarter past five." That name, "East of the Equator," stayed with me thereafter.

Fast forward to 2009 and Deirdre and I are looking for a cottage on Lake Huron. We already knew what we would name it: East of the Equator. We found a property we loved and in January, 2010, we bought it. Since taking possession of the property, we have made many upgrades to it (look for images from the cottage here), and earlier this summer we commissioned a local artist who had made other signs for us to paint a sign with the nautical signal flags to spell ECHO OSCAR TANGO ECHO" East of the Equator.

The sign was completed last week and I took it with me when I drove here last Friday. We specifically envisioned the sign to be hung over the fireplace mantle and yesterday I set to work to to precisely that.

From August 13, 2011

Of course, being an engineer I had to measure a few things in order to get the wire and the hooks just right:

From August 13, 2011

From Drop Box

I got to use my new drill to attach the mounting hooks to the back of the wood:

From August 13, 2011

From Drop Box

And I had to be able to hide this patch in the wall:

From Drop Box

Here are a couple images of the mounted sign:

From August 13, 2011

From August 13, 2011

So now you know the origin of the name of our cottage, East of the Equator, where it is always a quarter past five. If you ever happen to find your self near Oscoda on a weekend in the summer, look for another sign:

From Drop Box

Chances are we are there. Stop in and say hello.

A Lazy July Day

It has been a magnificent day here, just East of the Equator. The sun has been shining since 0552 and the temperature has been a very comfortable 75F most of the day. What is a day at the beach without sharing a few images?

Here is the view to the north of our beach:

From Jul 3, 2011

Here is a view to the south:

From Jul 3, 2011

Here is the view of our cottage from where we were sitting on the beach:

From Jul 3, 2011

And here is an image of me on the beach:

From Jul 3, 2011

And what day at the beach would be complete without a couple images of Samson. Here, he is retrieving a toy called "Chuckit."

From Jul 3, 2011

Here is he saying goodbye to my friend Steve who paddled in for a visit and an adult beverage:

From Jul 3, 2011

Here, I was able to capture a halo around the sun:

From Jul 3, 2011

Yes, life is good here Just East of the Equator.

From Jul 3, 2011

Bald Faced Hornet

Last weekend at the cottage, I noticed a nest attached to the soffitt at under the northwest corner of our cottage. The nest was about the size of half of an American football, and it was a mottled gray in color. I thought about removing the nest myself, but I saw an ad in the Oscoda Press for Dad's Pest Control. I gave the number on the ad a call and Mike answered the phone. He said that he would be able to get to the cottage on Wednesday and take a look at the nest. On Thursday afternoon I called Mike back to find out of he had made it to the cottage to remove the nest. The conversation went like this:

Mike: Yes, I did get to your property. It was a good thing you called me. The nest was a bald face hornet's nest. They are particularly nasty and ill tempered hornets. The will sting you without provocation. I removed the nest and you are fine.

Me: Thanks, Mike!

Mike: Also, since we have a minimum charge, I also sprayed for ants and beetles around your house.

Me: Mike, I really appreciate that. What do I owe you? Can you e-mail me an invoice or a bill?

Mike: I am pretty bad with paperwork. If you don't get anything from me by Monday, give me a call.

Me: Mike, I will. Thanks again for removing the nest and spraying for ants. I will use you again.

This is sort of how it goes in Oscoda. Nothing moves that quickly and people sort of do things at their own pace. It is one of the reasons we love it up there.

East of the Equator

OK, I have had to do a lot of explaining the past few weeks. Since Deirdre and I moved into our cottage, I have made some postings on this blog as well as on Facebook describing our time there. I have had a few colleagues at work and Navy friends who have been perplexed by the name of our cottage on Lake Huron. Our cottage is aptly named "East of the Equator, which is a magical place where it is always a quarter past five." I served as a Surface Warfare Officer for 22 years, shot more stars and sunlines than I can remember. For two years, I was the Navigator of USS FLETCHER (DD 992), a SPRUANCE class destroyer, which required me to take and pass a Navigator and Celestial Navigation course. I am well versed in celestial and terrestrial navigation and I know that technically, one cannot be east of the equator. Well, there is such place just east of the equator if you want to disconnect from the world, watch the sun rise each morning, the moon rise at night from time to time, run your German Shepherd Water Dog into Lake Huron so he can chase Chuckit, and get 90 cent drafts of Killian's Red in a frosted mug at the VFW. Our cottage is a place where we can unwind, unplug and relax. There is a clock over the stove that has nothing but fives on it. At our cottage, it is alway a quarter past five, just east of the equator.

The origin of East of the Equator

I have been writing this blog for almost three years and recently I have had a few people ask me what I meant by the title, "East of the Equator." As most people know, and equator is a dividing line of a planet or celestial sphere, marking the point where north becomes south and south becomes north. Clearly, one cannot be east of a line that marks the north and the south. So, here is the tale that tells the origin of the term "East of the Equator."

When I was stationed aboard my first ship, USS NIAGARA FALLS (AFS 3), my ship left Guam (its homeport) and we deployed to the Indian Ocean and the Persian Gulf for 6 months. During those 6 months, the ship supported a carrier battle group, and this required my ship to make frequent trips to Diego Garcia, British Indian Ocean Territory. Diego Garcia is located about 7 degrees south of the equator in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Dee-Gar, as it is also called, was a place where my ship could pull into port for a few days, get food and supplies for the battle group, then head back north to replenish the battle group. At one point during this deployment, we pulled into Diego Garcia for a six week long stay, where repairs would be made to the ship as well as to allow for a brief rest for the crew.

While we were there, the Wardroom (the officers of a ship form the Wardroom) was given access to a mobile home located a few hundred feet from the Officer's Club. Because of its position in the world, sunrise and sunset times do not change much during the year, and because there is no industrial pollution anywhere near the island, the sunrises and sunsets are usually spectacular. Me and my fellow officers would frequently go to the trailer for a beer, head to the Officer's Club for dinner, and then return to the mobile home, which had a commanding view of the Indian Ocean as well as a small deck that ended at the water's edge. One of my responsibilities was to keep the trailer stocked with cold beer, soft drinks and snacks. Many an evening were spent at the trailer, enjoying a spectacular sunset and a cold adult beverage.

We ended up calling the trailer "The Hooch," as every good watering place needs a name. It seemed like time stood still on those evening spent at the Hooch, and it always seemed like we arrived at the Hooch a little bit after 5PM. One evening, we joked that at the Hooch is is always a "quarter past five," meaning that it was always beer o'clock there. I then mused that any place where it is always a quarter past five must be a mythical or even magical place, and the term "East of the Equator" was born. Since you can't technically be east of the equator, I thought if I invented such a place, then I can make it any time I want there.

Fast forward 24 years, and Deirdre and I are the happy owners of a cottage in Au Sable Township, with 50 feet of beach front on Lake Huron. Au Sable Township is located about 3 miles south of Oscoda. Many of the cottages along US-23 are sometimes given names by their owners and have a spiffy sign that has the aforementioned name of the cottage. We decided, even before we owned a place, that we would call the cottage "East of the Equator." We have a design in mind for our sign, we just now need to find a craftsman to make it for us. Look for more updates about our time at the cottage, East of the Equator, where it is always a quarter past five.

East of the Equator Cottage

OK, a disclaimer. My blog has been pretty quiet the past few weeks and the reason why is that I took the bold step of buying Windows 7. Yep, I fell for Microsoft's advertising and thought, "This time, things will be different. This time, it will just work." I have the sad duty to report that despite the fact that the Windows 7 Support website checked my computer for compatibility with Windows 7 and told me that my computer can run on this operating system, I have experienced nothing but problems with Windows 7. My computer is stable for maybe 45 minutes or so, then I get the Blue Screen of Death with the same error code: 0X000000F7. I have spent a couple hours each night since last Friday on the phone with a Microsoft technician trying to solve this problem. As I type this entry, I am waiting for another call. This, dear reader, is why I have not done much blogging. I have spent my evening hours trying to fix something that is just supposed to work. I am telling you, my next laptop is going to be a Mac.

On a happier note, we are about to close on a cottage located on the shores of Lake Huron. It will be known as "East of the Equator." Below are a couple of image of the cottage:

And this is a view of the beach. Life will be good, just East of the Equator where it is always a quarter past five.