Your
Perfect Beach
by Peter Fyler
– May 25, 2006
These days with summer approaching, you’re
probably commuting long distances for work or family responsibilities,
sitting in your office, taking meetings, or doing countless
mundane chores, BUT your mind is elsewhere. You’ve got Vineyard
fever. You can’t wait until those precious few days or weeks
you’ve allotted arrive so you can return to paradise.
The Vineyard is waiting for you and it is looking better than
ever. Last spring The Boston Globe
acknowledged the Vineyard by publishing their picks for Best
of in New England in an article titled, “Your Perfect
Beach”.
They picked this Island for the Best Waves…
“South Beach in Edgartown on Martha's Vineyard, also known
as Katama Beach, has soft sand and gorgeous dunes. It's also
a fantastic place for bodysurfing. Catch a frothy wave and
ride it into shore -- with or without a boogie board. Beware
that sometimes-fierce current can also make for a dangerous
swim. Exhaust yourself with a ride, then rest up for your
next trip out with a snooze. Parking is free, but you'll have
competition.”
They picked this Island for the best Sunsets….
“With its rocky jetties, fishing docks,
and near-still water reflecting golden orb and pink sky, Menemsha
Beach in Chilmark on Martha's Vineyard is as photogenic as
it is friendly. On summer evenings, tourists and locals alike
gather there to toast the setting sun with raised glasses
of chardonnay and lobster claws. (Chilmark's a dry town, so
BYOB. Pick up your picnic before 7 p.m. at nearby Larsen's,
which sells steamed and cracked fresh lobsters for rustic
al-fresco dinners.) You can also take your fishing tackle
and license and catch your own dinner while you watch the
sun go down.”
And, they picked this Island for the Best Nude Bathing. All
right!
“New England is skimpy when it comes to clothing-optional
beaches, but among the few, the unofficially nude area of
Moshup Beach in Aquinnah on Martha's Vineyard is tops, with
warmer water than other island beaches. And it's small enough
that it doesn't draw crowds. Just be sure to cover up as you
walk to and from the nudity-friendly areas near the cliffs
marbled with clay; the other side of the beach attracts fully
clothed families. There is parking for nonresidents, but it's
limited, whether you're naked or not.”
Personally, I think we qualify for BEST in a lot of other
categories, but we try to keep our best a secret. This brings
me to a short story I want to tell you about my Sunday morning
this past weekend.
A friend of mine, whom I assisted in purchasing a home here
a number of years ago, came down for the weekend. He claims
I forced him to buy it, but he keeps telling me over and over
again how much he loves his home and how much he loves the
Vineyard, so I guess I did the right thing. He sits at a desk
all week and loves to be outdoors whenever he can get the
time. He came across from the mainland Friday night and was
out at the crack of dawn with all his fishing gear strapped
to his Wrangler Jeep Island car, 18 psi in the tires and headed
for Wasque. He spent all day fishing, and then blew off a
dinner invitation from me, because he heard from the legendary
Cooper Gillis that the Blues were running at Wasque from late
afternoon until nightfall. He caught nothing.
He invited me to join him on Sunday and I accepted. I could
not have cared less whether or not I caught anything; I just
needed a mental health day and there is no better therapy
than being on the beach, plus I always enjoy his company.
We went out bright and early with fishing poles bristling
from every porthole on his Wrangler. We looked like a porcupine,
but very official. First stop was Wasque where the real fisherman
had already lined up and the frantic flailing of long poles
was in full motion. But, no one was catching anything. There
were just as many real fishermen just sitting inside their
trucks “watching the water for signs”, my friend told me.
After a while my friend said, “Well, we’re not going to catch
anything today, so what would you say if we headed up to the
Gut?” That’s what they call the tip of Cape Poge. I said,
“Sure, that sounds great!”, so off we drove slogging our way
through the deep moist sand and passing truck after truck
of real fishermen --- catching nothing, but watching the water
for signs. We passed a dead Minke Whale splayed out at the
edge of the surf, garnished with seagulls hastening its return
to Mother Nature.
I continued to gawk at how absolutely beautiful
and magical the marshes and flood plains are all along the
Trustees of the Reservations conservation land. Imagine driving
along a slender strip of land simultaneously viewing, on one
side the pounding Atlantic Ocean, and on the other side the
placid waters of Cape Poge Bay; it is just mind boggling.
Where was I? All of a sudden my friend said he wanted to stop
and try fishing along a stretch of East Beach. We agreed to
give it a try, and after backing the Wrangler into the obligatory
perpendicular position, lest the tides catch us off guard
and we have to make a hasty getaway, we got out and strutted
up to the water’s edge in our big boots, poles in hand without
a single soul in sight. We cast out into the surf. My friend
is a serious, I mean real serious, fisherman so he watched
intently whilst retrieving his line, but I just start reeling
in, looking everywhere but at the water. It’s just too beautiful
not to soak it in, and after all, I’m on a mental health day.
I repeated the process another time, but this time my line
wouldn’t retrieve as easily, it’s going the other way ---
out! I caught a fish! I reeled it in, and it was big. I looked
over and my friend was going through the same contortions
I just experienced. We both caught a fish.
Now, this is where it gets ugly. After I caught three or four
fish I was content and felt accomplished, but real fishermen
like lots of fish, and Mother Nature was very accommodating
this Sunday. Our combined catch was about 33 blue fish and
two striped bass --- my friend seriously in the lead. What
I really loved about the experience was, as soon as we started
catching fish, the scent was picked up by other fishermen
and all of a sudden they started to appear on both sides of
us. It just goes to show, if you catch ‘um, they will come.
However, they --- the real fishermen couldn’t catch ‘um. They
looked at the lures we were using and changed to match, but
they couldn’t catch ‘um. We finally left around noon, because
my friend had to catch the ferry and I was seriously thinking
about seeing my chiropractor. I know one thing for sure; I
am now a real fisherman. There is no place like the Vineyard,
but please let’s keep it a secret --- it’s the best.
Boston Globe excerpts: Writer Janice O'Leary lives in
Boston. Writer Stephen Jermanok lives in Newton.
The opinions expressed herein as SplitRockRE Comments are
solely those of the editor.
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