Digging to China, not
Some Curiosities of Geography and Geometry
I have long been interested in geography and cartography and all aspects of location, direction, and connection so I thought I’d share a few things/places/ideas that have been bubbling around in my noodle, some for many years. Lucky you!
1. Chord Angle - A curious monument stands somewhat hidden in a small plaza behind shrubbery along the north end of the Seattle waterfront. It honors Seattle’s relationship with its sister city of Galway, Ireland. Made of granite and about the size of a small chest of drawers, it’s rough hewn on three sides and flat on the squared-edge top; the fourth side is sloped at a specific angle indicating the shortest distance between the sister cities.
Of course, I like that the monument is made of rock but I also like that it features the chord angle, or most direct route between Galway and Seattle. A sign on the monument notes that traveling the angle shown along the chord is 4,185 miles. If you flew to Ireland from the Emerald City (ah, marketers), you’d cover about 4,464 miles, so clearly the best way to travel is through the Earth. As far as I know, this is the only monument in Seattle that provides such geometric information, especially in reference to intraearth travel.
2. Antipodes - I am guessing that many of you were asked as a child, when playing in your yard, if you were digging to China. If not, how else did you squander your youth? Well, if you attempted this monumental dig anywhere in the United States, you wouldn’t hit China, or anywhere near it. For Seattleites, we’d bottom out 14,850 feet deep in the Indian Ocean (the location for all other lower 48 state diggers), about 1,700 miles southeast of Madagascar (the map below is slightly off), which would be a bit troubling as you’d experience about 440 times the pressure you’d experience if you ended up on land in China. If you do want to end up in China, Santiago, Chile, is a good place to start. Here’s a link to find your very own antipodes.
The word antipodes refers to people living on the opposite side of the Earth. Back in the day, antipodeans puzzled many, including the 4th century CE Christian apologist (whatever that means) Lactantius Fermianus. He asked: “How is it with those who imagine that there are antipodes opposite to our footsteps? Do they say anything to the purpose? Or is there any one so senseless as to believe that there are men whose footsteps are higher than their heads? or that the things which with us are in a recumbent position, with them hang in an inverted direction? that the crops and trees grow downwards? that the rains, and snow, and hail fall upwards to the earth?” All excellent questions but ones that won’t be learned by digging in your backyard; everyone knows that people don’t live underwater in the Indian Ocean.
3. How Far Can You See - Stand on an ocean beach and look out to sea. How far can you see to the horizon? What if you were on a lifeguard tower or in a light house? Not surprisingly, there are two simple formulas to determine the distance. Mind you, the distance you see may not be what is possible to see, particularly in the PNW with its fog, rain, smog, smoke, and the like.
Where this advantage of going up to see farther has long been important is at sea, which led to that classic image of lookout person high atop a mast shouting “Land ho.” The little platform (called a foretop or mizzentop) was primarily used for rigging but also served for navigation. More recently, since around 1807, the platform became known as the crow’s nest when Arctic explorer William Scoresby came up with the idea (or so his son claimed) of placing a cask, or some other protection, atop the mast. In Moby Dick, Herman Melville wrote: “…it is much to be deplored that the mast-heads of a southern whale ship are unprovided with those enviable little tents or pulpits, called crow’s-nests, in which the lookouts of a Greenland whaler are protected from the inclement weather of the frozen seas.”
As a follow up to my newsletter last week about devil’s club, here’s a specimen collected by Archibald Menzies himself! What is interesting is that it is dated 1787 or 88, which means the date I originally used, 1792, is incorrect. The specimen is in the collection of the Smith Herbarium of The Linnean Society.
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After wasting my own childhood digging to China in a sandbox that was alternately inundated to allow waterways and catastrophic Bretz-like flooding; I was delighted by this post. More so when you allow that your original citation of Menzie's collection of Devil's Club was off a year or two. Indeed, it's your willingness to admit to a correction that I most admire.