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Jeffrey Tao's Travel
Impressions
Cape Cod 2005 Every year
I go through a contest of wills with my family, trying to decide whether we should
spend our annual vacation in I vowed
never to return but in 2004 was prevailed upon by my wife and daughter to go
back to their favorite vacation destination. Rachel loved the ocean beaches,
the white-crested waves that carried her on her boogie board toward the shore
at Wellfleet in 2005 In 2004 I
reluctantly returned to the The local
realty company usually pencils us in for two weeks in the middle of August and
by February we already had to pay a deposit for the two-bedroom cottage by the
harbor in Wellfleet that we always found so convenient. Anyway, my focus in
2005 was on getting to Many changes Upon
arrival in Wellfleet in early August, we were told by our real estate agent
that the town had been blessed with weeks of dry, summery weather (long may it
continue, we prayed!) but also that there had been many changes. The rather
limited market called Lema’s in town had become Wellfleet Marketplace and we noticed
that it was better stocked and much more efficient with plenty of pleasant and
helpful staff. We already sensed a
change when we tried to phone for a reservation on the deck of Captain Higgins restaurant before we
got to the town. The phone was disconnected, a recorded message said tersely.
And, indeed, we later found out, the owners of that restaurant, almost an
institution for many years, had had enough, and decided to retire, and their
children were not prepared to assume their mantle. The restaurant was now
boarded up and up for sale. This was certainly a shock and a setback for us, since
our annual ritual on the evening of our arrival was to dine on Higgins’deck, right by the tall marsh grass near Wellfleet
harbor, watching the boats sail into port and listening to the intermittent sound
of cicadas. But, I suppose life has its compensations, since another major
change was that the venerable restaurant in an 18th century house on
Eating out For all that, Bookstore was on the whole an unglamorous place, though unpretentious and pleasant. The new Winslow’s Tavern, however, was a bit different. The restaurant had no view of the sea, but was centrally located in the town. The house was not basic saltbox but traditional clapboard, well-kept and painted white with black shutters. The terrace, attractively tiled with red brick, could accommodate up to ten tables, some sheltered under majestic trees. Equally, the food was more varied and sophisticated. For lunch, the crabmeat sandwich was flavorful and satisfying. The grilled tuna sandwich contained sushi quality tuna, seared on the surface, pink in the middle, with a rich taste and delightfully chewy texture. Dinner dishes such as cod in light tomato sauce or grilled sea bass tasted fresh and appetizing. The desserts, whether it was apple galette a la mode or white and dark chocolate mousse, did not disappoint. The prices were certainly competitive with those of any decent restaurant in the Wellfleet area and the service just that much more friendly and attentive than at other places. After a good first experience, we would go back several times again during our two-week stay. Economics sometimes force
restaurants to make changes that may make sense for them, but which do not
please the customers. One such example is Sweet
Seasons, what used to be the main restaurant at the One of our
favorite establishments is the On the
Creek Café, which serves breakfast and lunch. The coffee here is nice and
strong, the eggs beautifully-cooked, and a lunchtime favorite is home-made clam
pie, served piping-hot with a tomato salad and garnished with flower petals,
adding a dash of color. A dessert pie of fresh local berries a la mode is also
a must. As the name suggests, the view of Duck Creek is fabulous, and the outside
tables are much coveted from nine through two in the afternoon. The daughter of
the proprietress helps her mother out at the Café, but also runs a small art
gallery next door. Last year we enjoyed occasionally
lunching at an informal eatery called The
Juice, on the corner of A new dining experience for us this summer was one which we had with friends in Harwich port, near south Chatham, about forty-five minutes’ drive from Wellfleet. The restaurant is called Buca’s, a family-run Tuscan affair housed in a pretty little cottage with dark green shutters. The food was delicious, with pastas made al dente and refreshing summer salads of arugula, sliced oranges and fresh tomatoes. I had an appetizer of prawns in a spicy sauce and a main course of veal chop, tender and cooked to perfection. The gelatos and sorbets were also delightful. I was puzzled about one thing, though. We arrived early enough that there would be plenty of sunlight left for at least a couple of hours, and it was a beautiful summer’s evening. The management kept the shutters tightly shut, so that interior was so dark that lights had to be turned on long before nightfall. It gave an already rather small space a tight, closed feeling. The Joy of Eating In
View of Given the relentless and tremendous
demand for tables in restaurants, we sometimes found it a great pleasure to
pick up some fresh littlenecks, sea scallops or piece of salmon filet at Hatch’s, the town’s fishmonger, and eat
in. Our kitchen was not that well-equipped but adequate for simple meals such
as pasta with clams or baked fish. Local produce like corn was always a treat, tasting
sweet and firm, as if just ripened. There was also the convenience of the Boathouse Fish Market, only a couple of
minutes’ walk from our cottage. All we had to do was to ring up an hour in
advance, order plump, briny oysters on the half-shell and lobsters, often rich
in orange-colored roe, cooked and carefully packed, and then pick them up for
dinner at the appointed time. Our meal
would generally be accompanied by a Muscadet or white
The Allure of the
Beaches
Margaret tends to take her time going into the water. She prefers to read, relax and take long walks on the beach. Sometime we would all do that together. It was always a revelation to see how empty the parts of the beach unsupervised by lifeguards were. On one side there was a continuum of dunes with clumps of beach grass coming out of them. Some of the dunes had been eroded and sculpted by the awesome power of the waves into stark, contorted shapes unimaginable to the most creative of artists. Their colors also varied a lot, from off-white through beige to a striking dark yellow.
Dunes at They would contrast dramatically with the brilliant blue sky of fine, cloudless days. Rachel was so attracted to the sand dunes that she drew pictures of them with pencil and crayons. As we walk along the beach, the local wild life would burst upon the scene: the waves crashing onto shore would leave a dark patch on the fine sand of brown algae on which flocks of sandpipers immediately descend for sustenance. Whenever a wave comes in these tiny birds would run very quickly with their thin, pin-like legs to avoid the advance of the foamy water, or fly off in a deft movement into the air, then circle back once the water has receded. They look at once graceful and comical and interlopers like us humans can sense that this was their home, a place where these creatures feel completely at ease. In the late afternoon, when the sun casts its waning rays on the sand and the sea breeze starts feeling much cooler, all is tranquil and unbelievably beautiful. This is the time of day when one notices how the seagulls start raising hell, circling round and round and screaming insistently, as if announcing that their hour had come, as humans begin to pack up their umbrellas, beach gear and withdraw. Occasionally a lone seagull would stand, mute and inscrutable, on the sand or on a piece of driftwood, surveying the surrounding scene with something akin to an air of superiority – this was his kingdom. Very occasionally, groups of sea lions could be seen quite close to shore, their black heads bobbing up and down with the waves, sometimes emerging further than usual, with their smooth, perfect forms glistening under the sun. These are by no means small animals, but they move with an ease and agility that’s a pleasure to watch. If one
walked in the opposite direction away from the life guards, there’s the same
thinning out of people, with only the occasional small group scattered here and
there. In this quieter part of the beach, the dunes seem lower, less majestic.
At a certain point, a sandy path leads to a higher point and eventually to a
number of isolated cottages, private homes. But before that, there is an area
thick with Other Amusements Rachel had been at sailing camp in July in Mystic, Connecticut and we were pleased to be able to continue with sailing lessons for her in Wellfleet, which, after all, is a sailing town and was a whaling town in the past. We enrolled her for a couple of lessons at the Chequesset Yacht and Country Club and everything turned out very well. She made friends, got more practice sailing in different boats, and generally had a good time. It also provided an alternative to our daily routine of spending several hours at Newcomb Hollow, however enjoyable that might be. On less
than perfect beach days, there was always the town for amusement. Galleries
such as the And then of course there is Emack and Bolio with its tables outside on a terrace, and ice cream flavors that change almost everyday and never fail to please. We spent many an afternoon there, as we did in the nearby fudge store. Is There An
Alternative to Wellfleet? There’s no
doubt that as a city person I’ve occasionally found Our closest
neighbor Jeffrey Tao September 2005 |
Rachel (see left) has always preferred ocean beaches to the
much tamer bay beaches. A number of years ago, as a much younger child, even
before she learnt how to properly use a boogie board, she insisted on
participating in the annual competition organized by the lifeguards at Newcomb
Hollow, which included, among many items, a competition using boogie boards! I
remember how she won a prize just for just staying the course without ever
having used one of those boards before. Since then she’s gone from strength to
strength, hitting the waves whenever they seemed to crest high enough for the
excitement of gliding on the surface of the glassy green water. Of course, we
all had to contend with the sometimes glacial water temperatures. Some days,
when the water was a little warmer than usual, the accumulations of algae near
the shore would form a murky, scum-like barrier that put many swimmers off, even
though there was absolutely nothing harmful about it. On days when the water was
clear of algae, the water tended to be icy cold. Rachel would put on her wet
suit on those days, but since I didn’t have one, I would jump straight in almost
immediately upon reaching the beach by the late morning. Any delay or hesitation
would probably have led to endless procrastination. Once I was totally immersed,
it always felt bracing and exhilarating, even though the palms of my hands and
the soles of my feet were feeling numb and I could feel my blood almost boiling
under my skin in contrast to the icy waters. 