So, last weekend Larry and I ran away from home. I booked a cheap hotel in Wellfleet, two towns from the very end of Cape Cod. I have an unreasonable, decades-long affection for this part of the world, starting from a long-ago family vacation in a mouse-infested shack on a dune. I babysat there the summer I was 15, camped at the oddball campground in Truro during college, shared cottages in Eastham as a young adult. After the kids arrived, we spent a week or two each summer letting the kids chase hermit crabs in tide pools, reading while the kids were napping at the beach, catching fireflies, hiking trails at the Audubon, eating dinners at Mac's when we weren't throwing lobsters into a banged-up pot. We briefly considered buying the cottage next to a friend's place when the kids were small, but at the time the $140,000 seemed obscene. Last year 2-bedroom houses were selling for over $500,000; and even given the events of this year, I don't think things will go back to the early 90's.
The past few summer vacations have been usually in Europe, but we always try to get some time to sit at First Encounter beach to watch a sunset or two.
I can't recommend the Captains Quarters Motel for anything beyond a clean bed and a shower that works, but hey, it was $99 bucks, and once we figured out how to cool off the room without the ac cover rattling louder than a train, it was fine. Some beach time; wandering through a few of Wellfleet's galleries during the Saturday night opening-and-free-dreadful-chardonnay cocktail hour; sweet grilled scallops with a bottle of clandestine wine at a picnic table at Mac's on the harbor; sunset at the cove; a morning bike ride; and a bit more beach time. Oh, and the company.
Low tide, First Encounter Beach
Grilled Scallops and vegetables, Mac's
"Dining Room" at Mac's
My idea of perfect.