Sorry that waka waka waka was silent yesterday – I’m in Wellfleet, Massachussets this weekend, with my wife and son.
Wellfleet is a picturesque fishing village on the narrow end of Cape Cod, and is a very popular spot in the summertime. In the winter, though, it is almost deserted. The beaches are empty, the restaurants are closed, the beautiful freshwater ponds are edged in ice, and the low forests of scrub oak are forlorn and leafless. The pleasure boats that usually dot the harbor are gone, and the whale-watch crews have relocated to Baja for the season.
But here I am. I love it here in the winter. The unique Cape light is even more lovely, if a bit paler, this time of year, and to have this extraordinary place almost to myself – even if it’s just because nobody else, apparently, wants to be here when it’s frozen solid – is well worth the five-hour drive from Gotham.
Here’s a shot of Great Pond, earlier today:
And this was Newcomb Hollow Beach:
Yes, it’s cold, and I admit it’s rather bleak. The town looks abandoned, forgotten. But here on our little hilltop there is a fire in the grate, and the black winter sky is alive with stars. And it’s so very quiet – just the gentle soughing of the sea air in the pines.
Winter on the Outer Cape is not most people’s cup of tea, and I can understand why. Suits me fine, though.