If I had an unlimited amount of money, I'd spend most of my time travelling around the country and the world. I'm not really a huge fan of landmarks and guided tours; I'd much rather pick a destination, spend a little time there, and learn about local history, culture, and customs. Unfortunately, I don't have an unlimited amount of money, so my travelling days aren't coming any time soon. I'm still interested in learning about other places, though, so I figure reading about towns and cities I've never visited would be the next best thing. If you've got a minute (and hey, if you're reading this thread you've probably got time to kill), share something about your hometown that outsiders probably don't know about. I'm sure I'm not the only one here who would enjoy reading your words.
I'll start:
I live in Pittsburgh now, but Erie, PA will always be home to me. I grew up about three blocks from Lake Erie. In late spring of each year, the gizzard shad begin to spawn as the lake quickly warms up. The faster it warms, the faster they spawn (and the more prolific their offspring). Warmer water holds less oxygen, and the population increase always results in some of the fish suffocating from lack of oxygen; so the dead shad invariably wash up on the lakeshore. Most years it isn't too bad, but every twenty years or so a late spring warm spell results in a population explosion.
One year back when I was in high school (either '93 or '94), we had a decent warm spell in May that caused probably the biggest jump in the shad population in recent history. The population increase was so high that the fish literally used up all of the available oxygen in the lake and huge numbers (mostly shad, but many other species as well) suffocated. The fish kill was so large that dead fish covered the beaches as far as you could see, and completely coated the surface of the lake from the shore to about forty feet out.
The stench of rotting fish was unbelievable. Unfortunately, Erie suffered through a record-breaking heat wave early that June, which only worsened the rotting fish smell and made everyone wish they could open their windows. It was the worst at home at night, when the wind shifts and comes off the lake. The stench was so bad that even though it was over 80º outside, we had to keep all of the doors and windows closed to keep from getting sick. For two weeks, no one in my neighborhood was able to venture outside for more than a few minutes at a time. The smell permiated as far away as Interstate 90.
Eventually, the last of the shad decayed and the smell subsided, but for the entire summer the beaches were coated with minature fish skeletons, and Erie's tourism economy took a major hit as a result. People back home still talk about it every spring, and once a year the local paper does a write-up, complete with pictures and lake-shore-resident accounts. Though not a story worthy of national exposure, the Fish Kill will always be a part of local lake lore...at least as notable as the Summer of the Lake Erie Sea Monster (TM), the year the Great Lakes Sturgeon was "rediscovered" after a half-century of supposedly being extinct.
I'll start:
I live in Pittsburgh now, but Erie, PA will always be home to me. I grew up about three blocks from Lake Erie. In late spring of each year, the gizzard shad begin to spawn as the lake quickly warms up. The faster it warms, the faster they spawn (and the more prolific their offspring). Warmer water holds less oxygen, and the population increase always results in some of the fish suffocating from lack of oxygen; so the dead shad invariably wash up on the lakeshore. Most years it isn't too bad, but every twenty years or so a late spring warm spell results in a population explosion.
One year back when I was in high school (either '93 or '94), we had a decent warm spell in May that caused probably the biggest jump in the shad population in recent history. The population increase was so high that the fish literally used up all of the available oxygen in the lake and huge numbers (mostly shad, but many other species as well) suffocated. The fish kill was so large that dead fish covered the beaches as far as you could see, and completely coated the surface of the lake from the shore to about forty feet out.
The stench of rotting fish was unbelievable. Unfortunately, Erie suffered through a record-breaking heat wave early that June, which only worsened the rotting fish smell and made everyone wish they could open their windows. It was the worst at home at night, when the wind shifts and comes off the lake. The stench was so bad that even though it was over 80º outside, we had to keep all of the doors and windows closed to keep from getting sick. For two weeks, no one in my neighborhood was able to venture outside for more than a few minutes at a time. The smell permiated as far away as Interstate 90.
Eventually, the last of the shad decayed and the smell subsided, but for the entire summer the beaches were coated with minature fish skeletons, and Erie's tourism economy took a major hit as a result. People back home still talk about it every spring, and once a year the local paper does a write-up, complete with pictures and lake-shore-resident accounts. Though not a story worthy of national exposure, the Fish Kill will always be a part of local lake lore...at least as notable as the Summer of the Lake Erie Sea Monster (TM), the year the Great Lakes Sturgeon was "rediscovered" after a half-century of supposedly being extinct.
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