Dan Jones

When the U.S. post office rolled out its new five-digit ZIP codes in 1963, America was skeptical. "People were concerned they were being turned into numbers," a Post Office historian told Time. "They thought it was depersonalizing them." But mail volume had doubled since World War II and hand-sorting of addresses just wasn't working anymore. With the help of a canny ad campaign and a cute cartoon mascot—Mr. ZIP!—America was convinced that turning its towns into numbers wasn't such a crisis. Just seven years later, a tiny Australian town decided to go one better, and actually chose a number for its name.

In 1770, 1770 was "Round Hill," the birthplace of Queensland. On May 24, 1770, James Cook and two of his crew went ashore near Round Hill Head, which is today part of Queensland's "Discovery Coast." It was just his second visit to the new continent, whose eastern shore he had discovered when he made landfall at Botany Bay the previous month. The men admired the pelicans flying across the inlet, which they named Bustard Bay after a delicious game bird they shot and ate there.

Australia had a bicentennial celebration six years before America's. In 1970, Australia observed the 200th anniversary of Cook's visit, even issuing a commemorative coin for the occasion. The tiny town of Round Hill decided to get in on the action, changing its name to 1770 in honor of the fateful year. Every May since 1993, the town has held a 1770 Festival re-enacting Cook's first visit, which begins with a street parade and ends with fireworks over Bustard Bay.

It still looks like 1770 around 1770. The numerical town of 1770 is more than just a map oddity—it’s a great off-the-beaten-track vacation spot. The marina offers snorkeling cruises out to Lady Musgrave Island, your gateway to the Great Barrier Reef, while nearby Agnes Water is Queensland's northernmost surf beach. Hop in a kayak, hike out to the Bustard Head Lighthouse, or whale-watch in one of the nearby national parks. Unlike Botany Bay, which is now a bustling neighborhood of Sydney, the coastline of 1770 looks much like it did when Captain Cook's HMS Endeavour first moored there.

Officially, 1770's nice short name is four times as long. While locals always write the town's name as "1770," the Australian government officially spells it out as "Seventeen Seventy." It's the largest number with a town named after it, but it's far from the only one. If you're traveling by the numbers, you'll also want to visit Fifty-Six, Arkansas (named for its school district number), Eighty Eight, Kentucky (the bright idea of a postmaster who wanted an easy-to-write numerical name because his handwriting was so bad), and Hundred, West Virginia (named to honor its founders, a couple who both lived well past one hundred). My personal favorite: Blueberry, British Columbia, which is now known as Wonowon. Why Wonowon? It's located at Mile 101 on the Alaska Highway.

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Caption: This jigsaw puzzle map from 1787 is missing three pieces: central Europe, Madagascar, and the northern Great Lakes. Though the name on the map is Thomas Kitchin—the hydrographer to the King of England at the time—the map is more likely a pure product of John Wallis, who declared himself “the original Manufacturer of Dissected Maps and Puzzles, (having devoted full 30 years to that particular line of business).” The British Library Board

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Caption: This game map published by Londoner Edward Wallis in 1844 came with some fabulously descriptive instructions for players to follow as they moved across the numbered spaces on the board. “Mind how you wash your hands in the pools, lest you touch a Gymnotus, or Electrical Eel, which would give you a shock you would not easily forget. Now, my friends, are you all prepared for the bush?” The British Library Board

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Caption: This inventive expandable globe works like an umbrella: It has a central metal strut surrounded by several metal spokes, and when the user compresses them upward, they curve outwards to form the globe’s shape. The British Library Board

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Caption: Created in 1854, this famous caricature map depicts the Crimean War. Each country involved in the war becomes a different animal: Britain as a lion standing sentry, France as an imperial eagle, Turkey as…a turkey, and their foe Russia as a despotic bear, seemingly prepared to whip Poland into submission. The British Library Board

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Caption: Created by Japanese student Kisaburo Ohara at the beginning of the Russo-Japanese War of 1904, this map characterizes Russia as a black octopus. As Ohara wrote, “The black octopus is so avaricious, that he stretches out his eight arms in all directions, and seizes up every thing that comes within his reach … But as it sometimes happens he gets wounded seriously even by a small fish, owing to his too much covetousness.” The British Library Board

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Caption: In the wake of the war in Afghanistan, carpet-makers started to create designs including maps of the country—and some specifically designed to appeal to military servicemen looking for a souvenir on the way home, decorated with AK-47s, tanks, helicopters, and grenades. The British Library Board

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Caption: In 1581, a professor of theology named Heinrich Bunting published a book illustrated with mostly-geographical woodcut maps—and this strange cloverleaf portrayal of the three “Old World” continents. He placed Jerusalem at the center of the world, with each continent radiating outwards in a leaf. America gets isolated by itself at the bottom left corner, meaningfully separated from the Holy Trinity represented by the three main continents. The British Library Board

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Caption: Another one of Heinrich Bunting’s strange maps depicts Europe in the form of a power-wielding queen. This one’s worth exploring in detail, but some highlights: Italy forms the queen’s left arm, which holds an orb formed by “Sicilia”; her neckline is traced by the Alps; and the River Rhine forms her necklace. The British Library Board

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Caption: Printed in 1645, this is one of the first playable maps. Players begin on the outside of the spiral in and roll a die to progress through the spaces on the board, like in Snakes and Ladders. The goal is to land exactly on the 63rd space—created by Parisian mapmaker Pierre Duval, this game’s ultimate goal is France. The British Library Board

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Caption: Created during the Napoleonic Wars, this map was created by famous English satirist James Gillray. We don’t need to spell this out for you, except for the fact that ‘bum-boat’ was once a common nautical term for a small ship used to ferry supplies to larger ships—the French boats seen clustered around the coast of Normandy and Brittany, ready to attack. The British Library Board

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Caption: This map, by a well-known English actress named Lilian Lancaster, depicts the presidential election of 1880—between James Garfield (on the left) and his Democratic opponent Winfield Scott Hancock. Uncle Sam appears to be pulling on Hancock’s sash—maybe pulling him away from his childish antics? The British Library Board

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Caption: This birds-eye view of the Harz Mountains in Germany received aggravated complaints about the curious figures surrounding the mountain: six witches circling the peak on brooms, pitchforks, and goats, and two gleefully dancing on top of it. In legends, Harz is the center of devil worship, and during the festival of St. Walpurga, witches come to dance on top of the mountain. Map readers were not amused, and the next version of the map, issued in 1752, included an apology for the satanic additions. The British Library Board