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It was a crisp, rainy and windy day when we cruised into Oak Bluffs on the northeastern shore of the island of Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts. Dickie took one look outside and said “no thanks – I’m staying put.” And I, the old Vineyard Salt, set off, armed only with my “point & shoot” camera to see what adventures awaited me on shore. What magic would I find on the island? What tales of human drama did I have to tell? What I found was no magic, no mystery and no human drama, just ugly rain, in a self-contained little world, that exists only on Martha’s Vineyard.
First I stopped at the Tourist office, where the headmaster gave me a lecture on the island, whether I wanted to hear it or not. Because Oak Bluffs was founded as a religious camp, it does not have the historic pedigree the other 5 villages have. But when the canvas camp tents gave way to hundreds of imaginative and brightly painted Victorian gingerbread cottages, Oak Bluffs evolved into the islands first summer resort. I also learned that the movie JAWS was filmed here.
In search for an Internet cafe, I walked down Main Street (in the rain) and rode the historic carousel - built in 1876, with hand-carved horses sporting real horse hair. It's the oldest still-operating carousel in the country and a National Historic Landmark. Soon I got off the well-worn tourist paths and simply wandered past windswept dunes, salt marshes and pine wood along a flat, dirt trail and found the library. There I spent an hour posting the Ft. Lauderdale and New York blog. (Heaven knows when and where I can upload this one - as internet is very spoot and SLOW on board ship).
Next I hopped on a bus to Edgartown (in the rain), a major 19th-century whaling port and had the best Lobster at Seafood Shanty's, next to the Memorial Wharf.
With the carousal spinning and pizza parlors buzzing, I left the island feeling refreshed and soaked. Even though I came close to barfing on the rocking & rolling tender-boat, it was fun to absorb the rhythms of Martha’s Vineyard in the off-season and talk to the friendly 12 1/2 locals
Late afternoon, the sailors hauled up the anchor and we prepared ourselves for the transatlantic crossing. Next port: Terceira Island in the Azores. Five days of reading and writing and staring at the sea. Five days with no ports of call to contend with. No waiting in line to sign up for a shore excursion or to attend a port talk, and no sweating it up on a bus tour or shuffling through a town swelled by cruise passengers. Five days where nothing gets in the way of real 100%, bone-fide relaxation. I look forward to the next 5 days. Hopefully I have dried out by then.
