Part XI "Escape To The Cape"

This past week has flown by with some things accomplished but also leaving me with a laundry list of of "To Dos" untouched. The weather factor had a huge influence on what was doable and what was not. Last Thursday, the 1st of September, I arrived here on Cape Cod and it was cheerfully sunny through to Tuesday when the rains began. I laid low for a few days, catching up on letters, paying bills, yes, real life does continue on whether I'm there or not, going through the trip expenses, hitting the shops and galleries, sorting photos, reading and enjoying a few much-welcomed and might I add, well deserved, afternoon naps.

The first full day, Friday the 2nd, I was alone, riding around revisiting a lot of places left over from my childhood summers. A lot has certainly changed; more development, more people and more traffic. When I was a kid it was busy during the summer but certainly not to the degree of present day. The beaches, for the most part looked the same. Some of the parking lots were relocated, a response to the ever-present erosion that is rampant here as well as familiar stores both remaining or now gone, replaced by the new flavour of the year.

I rode along Rte 6A, with it's friendly curves, winding my way from Dennis east to Orleans, stopping along the way to do some banking and mail some cards and a package. A funny or more so an annoying visit to the bank left me with a bad taste. I needed some working capital; cash some traveller's cheques to replenish the coffers. Riding along I saw a T.D. bank on my left and veered off into the lot. I go inside and am greeted by a beaming teller. I say I want to cash some traveler's cheques and she gives me a look as if I'd just spat on the counter. Do I have a TD account. No. Do I have an account at any local bank. Again no. She flatly turns me down due to the fraud associated with traveler's cheques. I point out these are American Express traveller's cheques and are they not guaranteed by Am-Ex? She clucks a terse "It doesn't matter. We don't cash them." This is frustrating because I'm thinking if they won't cash them then other banks are as likely to have the same policy leaving me strapped or looking for an Am-Ex office, using the ATM to access cash at home or worse using a credit card for some cash advances which is certainly not where I wanted to go. I give her an equally dirty look while departing and head off down the road in search of a more congenial bank.

A mile or so up the road there is a Cape Cod Savings Bank with a big empty parking lot. No time like the present I wheel in, walk in and again greeted by a smiling teller. I present my cheques and she asks if I have an account there. No, I'm sorry I don't. The smile dissolves and she sadly shakes her head but at the same time another woman in the bank catches her attention and says they'll do it. I assume this woman is the manager, because immediately the teller switches the smile back on and everybody is friends once more. I pull out the cheques and start signing. I am restricted to a maximum amount of one thousand dollars. That is more than I was originally looking for but I figured better get it while the gettin's good. So now I was solvent again, the teller gives me one last face splitting smile, I thank her profusely and smile at the manager on my way out. Conveniently the post office is across the street so I was able to get both my errands done. Now I had the rest of the day to go an expedition of rediscovery.

Next port of call was Orleans the main mid-Cape shopping centre. I take a tour through town noting what has changed since my last visit in the mid 90s. That's changed, that's gone, that's still the same, that's new; all of these observations kept my head on a swivel. I toodled off to Rock Harbour to see the charter fishing fleet. Now Rock Harbour, one of my favourite places, looked pretty much the way it has always looked. Smart charter boats neatly moored in their respective berths; their sign boards affixed to the pier touting their prowess as charter captains while displaying their contact information and photos of recent successful charters. The breakwater at the entrance remained untouched; after all who would move a long chain of boulders? I sighed contentedly knowing some things remained the same and lit out on the next part of the ride. I caught Rte 28 and rode south-west leaving Orleans, passing Pleasant Bay heading to Chatham. I remember once in Chatham I saw a bumper sticker for sale in a tourist shop which laid to claim, "Chatham, MA. A quaint little drinking town with a fishing problem." I made a note to myself should I spot one of these stickers I'd buy it and put it on my Jeep at home. Taking a side road off Rte. 28 I followed the shore along to Chatham Lighthouse and park the bike across the street. I take some time looking down on the beach, across the sandbar and out into the Atlantic. Fat lazy seals make their way swimming parallel to the shoreline. Due to the comeback of the Striped Bass the seals have set up residence gorging on the fish stocks much to the chagrin of the local fisherman. Along with the seals sharks have also migrated to this particular length of shoreline creating fear among residents and visitors alike. The fat stripers make for fat seals that make for fat sharks.

                                           Chatham Lighthouse.

                                         The beach below Chatham Light.

                                               Returning to port.

I continue on along Main Street through Chatham's shopping district, back onto Rte. 28 still riding west. The next stop on my list was Hardings Beach. I found the turn, Barn Hill Road, without any problem as the plaza on the corner still sported the "Shop Ahoy" sign mounted in a ships helm wheel; just as it was fifty years ago. Ahhhh. Somethings never change. The road to Hardings is a short run of about a mile finishing up at the parking lot toll both. The attendant, an older gentleman, greets me. I explain I was on a childhood memory quest and would it be OK if I just rode in for a few minutes and had a quick look around? He asks where I'm from and I tell him Vancouver BC. He looks at my license plate on the bike and breaks into a big grin. He goes "Oh Vancouver!" I immediately know what's coming as he launches in about the Bruins winning the cup. Well it was to be expected. I take it graciously and congratulate him and the Bruins for a hard fought victory. He then tells me to go ahead into the lot and take all the time I need.  I shake his hand and off I go to the second lot at the far end of the beach where my Dad always parked. Surprisingly there are not many people there save for the Beach Bandit's truck. This snack truck was there when I was a kid, serving up greasy fried delights and ice cream, although it appears the truck has been replaced since then. Hardings looks the same although I noticed the grass behind the dunes has expanded over the years. The ever present washed up seaweed was gathered up and piled at the back of the beach as it always has been.

I saddle up and ride out of Hardings, passing the man at the booth who heartily waves and wishes me a safe trip. Back onto Rte. 28 I turn off onto Rte. 137 heading back to the north shore of the Cape. Now this part has changed drastically. I don`t recognize it at all. This area, once almost a wasteland of sand and pine forests, is now inundated with retail overload. Small malls are everywhere along the way and none, absolutely none of it looks the same.

Getting close to Brewster I see a familiar friend and veer left onto Tubman Road. This rambling country road was a favourite of my Dad`s. Trees lined both sides of the road and their leafy boughs would meet overhead creating a tunnel effect making a spooky ride for us children. Well at least it did when I was younger. Now there is more development, the trees no longer touch, due to the increased overhead power lines and I swear they have smoothed out some of the curves and knolls. Poor old Tubman. Another victim fallen prey to progress.

It`s getting close to dinner time so I jump back onto 6A west and head back to my motel in Dennis detouring for a quick run up the hill to Scargo Tower. Another old time favourite, Scargo Tower remains untouched save for the increased development coming up the hill. The trees have grown up a lot and the view is now more limited than what I remember.

Scargo Tower. Dennis, MA.

      

                                           View from Scargo Tower looking west.

A quick stop at Captain Frosty`s for take out cod and clam cakes and I`m back in the motel for a night of photo sorting and updating my journal. All in all I was fairly satisfied with the day`s events. Later that night I was chatting on-line with my brother Dave and he asked if I had felt any of the old magic. It was a question I had been pondering all afternoon, to which I replied, yes; to a certain extent. While buildings had come and gone, the true essence of the landscape rekindled a stream of memories which will live with me forever.

Saturday, September 3rd.

With no need to get up early I treat myself to a sleep in, finally rising around 9:00 AM to another warm sunny day. Today is check out so I pull all my gear together and start loading up the bike, The gal who works at the motel takes a curious interest in all the stuff I have and how it fits onto the bike. She  watches the entire process, chatting with me as I assemble the load. An Eastern European accent reveals she is from Bulgaria. Soon I'm ready to roll.

All loaded up I have nothing to do and all day to do it so the day is mine. This is as good an opportunity as ever to run up the entire length of Cape Cod to Provincetown and have a look around. Once I circle the traffic roundabout at Orleans I start to question my choice. This is Saturday of the long weekend and traffic is at a crawl all along Rte. 6. This is the only road that goes the entire distance so like everyone else I`m stuck. In Eastham I get fed up and hop off at a Dunkin` Donuts for a cup of tea. I get an extra large to go and sit on a bench outside watching the traffic creep along. Finishing my tea I saddle up and cut back into the column of cars. Things start to pick up and I`m merrily cruising along at a breath taking fifty kph! This too gives way and save for the odd slowdown we're up to the posted speed limit as I pass through Wellfleet. I take a couple of side detours from Rte. 6 dropping in at Newcomb Hollow, Head Of The Meadow Beach and Highland Light. The cliffs here are high and the surf is wilder on this exposed side of the Cape. Provincetown is well within reach and it's only a matter of minutes before I'm negotiating the narrow and crowded Commercial Street. Provincetown has always been an edgy kind of place. During my lifetime it was once very arty and home to the Beatniks. Next came my favourite period, the Hippie era. In the seventies P'Town transformed again and became the vacation destination for the gays and lesbians and continues to be to this day while the art galleries have grown in numbers. I took the time to visit a John Lennon art exhibition at a local church on Commercial Street. Being a huge Lennon fan I found this a fascinating display featuring many different periods of John's life. It was entrance by donation and you could buy prints of the various pieces on display. There was a wide selection for sale albeit a bit rich for my pocket.

                                      Commercial Street. Provincetown's famous main street.

                               I saw this T-Shirt in the window of a shop in Provincetown.
                                        Yeah. OK. I get the point. Enough already!

 Parked on the pier in Provincetown.

That's by bike, Buddy Black, laden with all the gear making friends.

                                 

Tiring of the town I ride up to Race Point, see the lighthouse and drop by the visitor centre, gratis, thanks again to my National Park Annual Pass. This piece of plastic has paid for itself this trip at all the National Recreation sites I've visited. I'm soon back on Rte. 6 heading south to Brewster where my brother Mike and Sister-In-Law Carol should be there by now. I pull up to the house. Crack a cold or fairly cold one hiding in my luggage and wait for their arrival. I send Carol a text inquiring as to her "20" and lo and behold they are mere minutes away. They show up. My two nieces Alana and Jessie, accompanied their respective gentlemen David and Mark, soon arrive followed by Mark's parents, Sue and Al and the party is on. We stay up a tad too late as is always the case but all is well and everyone is looking forward to a fun week together.

Sunday through Friday.

The days start to run together as everyone sinks into downtime. I was already in that headspace so to me it's business as usual. More of Mike and Carol's friends, Marybelle and Mario, arrive late Saturday night or early Sunday morning, to round out the gang. During the weekend and the first part of the week we go to the beach, out for dinner and kick back in the evenings with books, cribbage and lively conversation. Come Tuesday the rains arrive and shut a lot of beach activity down until Friday. We fill the days by going shopping, well the ladies did; me not so much as I had limited space for any more stuff. I revisit Provincetown with the family and spend the day walking the streets while popping into the narrow shops and galleries.

                                               Your typical Provincetown shop.

During the week I received an interesting email from Ken, a fellow I met on the pier in Provincetown last Friday when I was there alone. He and his wife stopped by to chat as I was gearing up for the ride home. He rode a BMW GS which was parked further along the row from Buddy Black. He asked me about the trip and we yakked about both mine and his travels across the country. I give him the blog address in case he wanted to follow along. As I mentioned, a few days later I get an email from Ken. He had read one of the chapters and saw I was planning on doing an oil change when I got to the East Coast. He invited me to their home in Harwich where I could do my oil change in his garage. He had lots of tools, a bike lift and the means to dispose of the old oil. In reply I thanked him profusely saying I  just had the oil changed while I was in Knoxville a week ago, It was a generous offer and indicative of the hospitality one encounters in the motorcycle community at large. Thanks again Ken and I wish you safe travels wherever you GS takes you.

It is now Friday afternoon. The sun is shining. A gentle breeze has the trees whispering as I sit in the screened sunroom writing this chapter. I have the house to myself as everyone has run off to the beach to enjoy the sun. I think I'll head over there in a few minutes and take advantage of this wonderful afternoon before the day slips by. My week on Cape Cod is coming to a close. It's been a wonderful relaxing week and I have enjoyed hanging out with my family and new friends. Tomorrow it's load up the bike and start the journey North to Nova Scotia. This is the plan so hopefully the weather will oblige and I can explore Cape Breton, one of the world's top rated motorcycle rides. Another "Bucket List" item is within reach and I hope to tick it off the list by this coming Monday. The next leg is about to begin so I will be posting to the blog as the adventure continues.

Stay tuned. There's lots more to come!