My kind of town, I thought to myself.
This old whaling colony was exactly what I imagined Martha's Vineyard to be. Beautiful, white, and statuesque--the sea captains' homes were neatly lined along the rust-colored brick streets. From what I read about the whaling industry, it boomed in New England in the 1800s. While it was very lucrative, it was also very dangerous. Atop these captain's homes were balconies called "widow's walks" where the women would gaze out to sea hoping to see their husbands return to the harbor.
Highlights of Day Two and Three:
*Riding a bike all day long and officially feeling the vibes of vacation.
*Japanese Botanical Gardens at Chappaquiddick--which was a bit of a letdown, but there's not much one can expect for the end of April.
*Wind: awful for us bike riders, awesome for stirring up some wicked waves.
*Katama Beach all to ourselves. (It was cold and windy that morning, so don't try to romanticize it.)
*Collecting sea shells and doing a bit of an ocean dance (a la Michael Flatley) in the waves.
*Inhaling salty sea air and tasting it on my lips. Watching the waves crash and talking to my Boy about the future.
*Window shopping: The Black Dog, Vineyard Vines, nautical knots, sailor stripes, and all kinds of whimsical things that made me want to purchase something to capture the essence of the Vineyard.
*A dang good bowl of chowda at the Martha's Vineyard Chowder Company.
*Waking up the next day and not being as sore as I though I'd be from biking all day.
*The Edgartown Inn: The great Nathaniel Hawthorne had roomed here. Wassup.
*Loving the ocean and seriously contemplating--like most visitors do--what life would be like if we were islanders year 'round.
*"Enough of the pictures!" Boy would say. "I wouldn't have to take as many if I had a nicer camera lens," I'd retort back.
*Crunching our feet on a sea creature graveyard leading out to the lighthouse.
There were many places and recommended things to do that we didn't have the time for. But hey, stressing about those kinds of things pretty much defies the meaning of vacation. If I don't have to be startled out of REM at 4:00 a.m. and I can lie in bed for as long as I please for four consecutive mornings, then I say that the trip was a success. That, and being with my best friend is pretty nice too.
P.S. Trying to take photos of the two of us was harder than I thought. Maybe I should have been a dork and brought my tripod.
More later on Cape Cod...