Oh, the pleasures of spring and summertime…lollygagging on the beach, riding a bike along a scenic coastline, stopping for an ice cream cone, browsing in a kitschy shop that sells magnets and hand towels with seashells embroidered on them. It’s all good stuff. This weekend my husband and I drove up to Cape Cod. Actually, he drove. I flipped through magazines and commandeered Pandora.
There was tons of traffic getting from New York to the beginning of the Cape, so we were behind schedule. (Not that it mattered. I’m sure the hotel wouldn’t have cared if we didn’t check in since they’d already charged us for the room.) Once we crossed the bridge we realized how huge Cape Cod actually is. We had an additional 45 minutes to go to reach Chatham, which is a delightful and picture-perfect town. Nearly every house, small or large, was clad in cedar shingles and maintained scrupulously. Of all the towns we drove through, this was my favorite by far.
We stayed at Chatham Wayside Inn. It was lovely, nicely maintained, clean, and the staff was friendly. Normally I bring along sanitizing wipes and gloves to wipe down the room when we go to hotels but I didn’t feel it was necessary once we were there. That’s how you score major points with me, people. (Don’t I sound like a blast to travel with?) It was nearly 9pm by the time we put our luggage down in the room and we were hungry. What else is new? We pretty much ran over to the inn’s restaurant Wild Goose Tavern, which stops seating for dinner at 9pm – yes, even on a Friday night. (God forbid we ever miss a meal.) Chatham, we realized is not a town for anyone looking for late-night dining, entertainment…or late-night anything.
Dinner was much better than we had expected from the looks of it; dated, pub-like decor with those heavy, dark wood chairs that make me think of the Gorton’s fisherman. Anyway, the food was fresh, interesting and nicely plated. Next time I would skip the ho-hum dessert.
The next morning we hit Lazy Lobster for breakfast. The inn offers a continental breakfast but Michael can’t function as a human being unless he eats eggs every day. I’m serious. He’s weird, I know. Breakfast was good, service very good, and we were on our way.
We thought we’d just relax. Stroll down Main Street in Chatham, have lunch, enjoy the perfect sunshiney weather. But no. As much as we always say we just want to relax, we never do. And since the ferry to Nantucket was in Hyannis (about 30 minutes away), we decided to head over there and take a boat ride. Important info for those who haven’t recently been on a ferry, or any boat, really: You’ll freeze your ass off! Even if the sun’s shining, bring something to throw on.
When we got off the ferry I was so happy. Nantucket is as beautiful as I’d imagined. If you love cobblestone streets, quintessenital New England atmosphere (I assume we’re all on the same page with the quintessential thing), good restaurants and interesting shops, you’ll enjoy it there. It’s the kind of place you want to just explore and soak in and not rush. But we had to rush since we only had 3 hours before the ferry back to Hyannis. And we were hungry again, so we used some of that precious time to fill our bellies.
I’d like to thank that wonderful phenomenon called “dumb luck” for leading us to Dune, and also myself for remembering I’d read about what a good restaurant it is and saying to Michael, “Oh, let’s eat here!”. I may also kiss the chef, Michael Getter, right on the mouth (Is he cute? I haven’t seen a pic.) for being so damn talented that I now list this meal amongst the best I’ve ever eaten. Michael agrees.
We’ve had some very special (read: expensive) dinners over the years at some fancy-pants places and this one was great for a few reasons; creativity, surprise, price. I would have eaten my plate had I believed it to taste like what had been served on it.
As we waited in line for the ferry back to Hyannis I realized I didn’t have our return tickets. (The high-speed ferry is 70 bucks round trip per person.) Oopsie daisy. Luckily, the good people of Hy-Line cruises are very accommodating. And probably accustomed to idiots who misplace their tickets, because they simply printed out new ones for me – thus saving me from one of my husband’s lengthy lectures on being a scatterbrain. (He’s not perfect either, I assure you.) Only a short lecture ensued. The group of senior citizens behind us got a chuckle out of my little mishap.
“Who’s got the car keys?” one of the ladies said, smartly.
Michael enjoyed this very much.
On the way back to Hyannis, a couple with small children boarded. I missed our kids and, though I wished we’d had an extra day to explore Nantucket, I was eager to get home to them. (Now I wish I was back on Nantucket. Kidding, kidding!)
I leaned against Michael, enjoying our last day of alone time.
Now if only I could get Downeaster Alexa out of my head.