Dear Mr. Alice: I’ve sailed the Straits often enough to know most of the snags and shallows. I also spent some time in La Casa de Contratacion de Sevilla poring through Columbus reliquiae to gain a fair knowledge of medieval place names. But so far no encyclopedia nor any other source has ever been able to tell me who the hell was Juan and who or where was Fuca. Any clues? — G.C. Edmondson, Chula Vista
Plenty. And I didn’t even have to leave town to get them. Barely had to move from my hammock, in fact. After a quick perusal of a volume titled American Place-Names (Oxford University Press) and a call to the Washington State Historical Society, we have the lowdown on that sly dog Juan de Fuca, whose name has inspired lewd snickers from generations of map readers. (For the geographically challenged I’ll add, the Strait of Juan de Fuca is the waterway between Vancouver Island, British Columbia and Washington’s western peninsula.)
For centuries, the British, French, and Dutch were obsessed with finding the so-called Northwest Passage, a water route across North America to the riches of the Far East. In 1596 English merchant Michael Lok met 60-year-old Juan de Fuca lounging about in Venice claiming to be “a mariner and an ancient pilot of shippes.” When he boasted he’d once sailed with the Spanish fleet and was the first European to see the western mouth of the fabled passage and sail through it to the Atlantic Ocean, Lok was impressed. De Fuca larded his story with precise details of landmarks, compass headings, and fantastic sights. He claimed the western entrance was marked by a “great spired Rocke” and that he “went on Land in divers places and that he saw some people...clad in beast skins; and that the land is...rich of gold, Silver Pearle, and other things, like Nova Spania.... Hee not being armed to resist the force of the Salvage people...returned homewards againe... where he arrived at Acapulco, hoping to be rewarded greatly of the Viceroy for his service.”
To make a very long and complicated story not quite so long (if it’s not already too late), Michael Lok spread de Fuca’s boast, and it was eventually set down in several widely read books. So two centuries later, when British explorer Captain Charles Barkley found what he called the “long lost strait of Juan de Fuca,” he named it in the old man’s honor.
According to historians, Michael Lok is most responsible for the persistence of Juan de Fuca’s legend. Lok was a credible personality of the day, though slightly batty about the idea of finding the Northwest Passage and raking in the ensuing fame and dough. Juan just knew a sucker when he saw one. De Fuca, in fact, was Greek, born Apostolos Valerianos on the island of Cephalonia. He’s mentioned in no records either before or after his three-year association with Lok. And the physical description of his “discovery” has not held up to historical scrutiny. In short, Juan seems to have been merely an opportunist who hoped his friendship with Lok would help him recover money he claimed was owed him by the Spanish court.
Unfortunately, the only question I can’t answer for you, G.C., is who or what “Fuca” is or exactly how Apostolos acquired his nom de mer. Since there’s no record that he was ever in the Spanish navy or even in Spain, for that matter, it may be something he made up and could have some Greek or Italian connection. So there’s your assignment for your next voyage.
Dear Mr. Alice: I’ve sailed the Straits often enough to know most of the snags and shallows. I also spent some time in La Casa de Contratacion de Sevilla poring through Columbus reliquiae to gain a fair knowledge of medieval place names. But so far no encyclopedia nor any other source has ever been able to tell me who the hell was Juan and who or where was Fuca. Any clues? — G.C. Edmondson, Chula Vista
Plenty. And I didn’t even have to leave town to get them. Barely had to move from my hammock, in fact. After a quick perusal of a volume titled American Place-Names (Oxford University Press) and a call to the Washington State Historical Society, we have the lowdown on that sly dog Juan de Fuca, whose name has inspired lewd snickers from generations of map readers. (For the geographically challenged I’ll add, the Strait of Juan de Fuca is the waterway between Vancouver Island, British Columbia and Washington’s western peninsula.)
For centuries, the British, French, and Dutch were obsessed with finding the so-called Northwest Passage, a water route across North America to the riches of the Far East. In 1596 English merchant Michael Lok met 60-year-old Juan de Fuca lounging about in Venice claiming to be “a mariner and an ancient pilot of shippes.” When he boasted he’d once sailed with the Spanish fleet and was the first European to see the western mouth of the fabled passage and sail through it to the Atlantic Ocean, Lok was impressed. De Fuca larded his story with precise details of landmarks, compass headings, and fantastic sights. He claimed the western entrance was marked by a “great spired Rocke” and that he “went on Land in divers places and that he saw some people...clad in beast skins; and that the land is...rich of gold, Silver Pearle, and other things, like Nova Spania.... Hee not being armed to resist the force of the Salvage people...returned homewards againe... where he arrived at Acapulco, hoping to be rewarded greatly of the Viceroy for his service.”
To make a very long and complicated story not quite so long (if it’s not already too late), Michael Lok spread de Fuca’s boast, and it was eventually set down in several widely read books. So two centuries later, when British explorer Captain Charles Barkley found what he called the “long lost strait of Juan de Fuca,” he named it in the old man’s honor.
According to historians, Michael Lok is most responsible for the persistence of Juan de Fuca’s legend. Lok was a credible personality of the day, though slightly batty about the idea of finding the Northwest Passage and raking in the ensuing fame and dough. Juan just knew a sucker when he saw one. De Fuca, in fact, was Greek, born Apostolos Valerianos on the island of Cephalonia. He’s mentioned in no records either before or after his three-year association with Lok. And the physical description of his “discovery” has not held up to historical scrutiny. In short, Juan seems to have been merely an opportunist who hoped his friendship with Lok would help him recover money he claimed was owed him by the Spanish court.
Unfortunately, the only question I can’t answer for you, G.C., is who or what “Fuca” is or exactly how Apostolos acquired his nom de mer. Since there’s no record that he was ever in the Spanish navy or even in Spain, for that matter, it may be something he made up and could have some Greek or Italian connection. So there’s your assignment for your next voyage.
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