Before I headed to Massachusetts, I had to make a decision about which islands to visit during my stay in the Cape. I opted for Martha’s Vineyard over Nantucket because it seemed to offer more activities for spending the day. I purchased ferry tickets for myself and my bike instead of taking my car. I was not sure this was the right decision, particularly once I left DC and realized I had left all the gear for cycling behind. I had a bag to carry, but I would be juggling it while riding. I also failed to bring a lock. One of the ferry passengers suggested that I did not need one, but I would not recommend that. I rode from my motel to the Falmouth ferry dock, struggling with the bag and hoping for the best.
I disembarked in Oak Bluffs, and the first person I encountered was an older gentleman calling “bike lawks,” and after a quick review of the area, I returned to Anderson’s Bike Rentals to buy a lock, grateful I had solved this problem. They also offered black baskets and frames with fast installation. I had always wanted a basket for my bike, and this matched and was a fast installation. So now I have a permanent basket on my bike; I love the way it looks, and it enabled me to explore Martha’s Vineyard without any struggle with a bag. I left the shop kitted out and promptly parked and locked my bike to enjoy a massive omelette breakfast in Oak Bluffs before heading out on my bike for Edgartown.
I cycled about six miles to Edgartown. It was a pleasant ride along the coast. Edgartown felt a bit congested, so I skipped the busiest part of the town and headed to a little beach where I found a place where I could locked up my bike and sit for a bit on a stretch of sand. I passed a lighthouse on my way
out to the beach, and sat myself in the sand facing the island of Chappaquiddick off Martha’s Vineyard. I must admit that, until I found myself there, I never thought of Chappaquiddick as a place but always as an an event, the event where a young woman was killed because she got trapped in a car with Ted Kennedy in the midst of a summer party a long time ago. I sat for an hour facing it, wading in and out of the water. There in the sun, I engaged in a little bad decision making of my own. I had been staying with a friend that summer whose skinned tanned to a gorgeous brown, while I always looked anemic in our photos. It had been decades since I put my unprotected skin in the sun, so the memory of what damage it does had been lost to me. I would later regret this, but it seemed like the thing to do.
After about an hour, I cycled back into Edgartown, found the bike parking and walked around the town. One of the big historic attractions, a home from the 1690s, was closed for Covid. So I went to the old whaling church, or the Federated Church of Edgartown. That was wide open because it was in the midst of restoration.
From there, I walked into the town. I was still full from breakfast, so I found my way to the park benches that overlook the harbor between Edgartown and Chappaquiddick to watch the ferry move cars across the harbor between the two small islands. I could have taken my bike over, but there was not a lot to go over to see, unless I wanted to see the house where Kennedy partied with the Boiler Room Girls from his brother’s 1968 compaign or see Dike Beach, where Mary Jo Kopechne died. But my time on Martha’s Vineyard was short and I did not want to spend it on a morbid, and possibly intrusive, errand.
Instead, I headed to Katama/South Beach by bike. It was a bit challenging because the the wind was in my face. It was mid-afternoon and the water had become overcast and choppy. In my effort to lighten my bag before heading to the ferry, I had left behind my swimwear, so I sat on the beach and read, still without sunblock. After some time watching the birds–Katama was pretty quiet–I cycled back into Edgartown. I was due back to the ferry in Oak Bluffs by about 6, which was drawing closer. I feasted on an ice cream sundae
and took in more of Edgartown by foot. It had been a very peaceful visit there, and I was ready to head back.
I started back for Oak Bluffs, tired from the day of sun and cycling. Instead of using a navigational device, I tried to operate by memory and signposts. After a long ride, I discovered that I was way off course, following the path to Vineyard Haven instead of Oak Bluffs. I was panic stricken, afraid of missing the last ferry and being stranded on the island for the night. The panic provided enough adrenaline for me to navigate Vineyard Haven’s streets and push myself on to Oak Bluffs. I blew back into the town, cycled past the gingerbread houses, and rushed to the ferry. At this point, my skin had turned lobster red, I was covered in sweat and sand, and I hoped the ferry left on time or late. I
arrived back to very kind ferry personnel and boarded it with a few minutes to spare. The ride back to the Cape was blissful–it had been a lovely day. My motel was very near the ferry dock in Falmouth, but the short bike ride was painful–making clear that I would have some recovering to do from the riding and sunburn. The shower water beat down on burned skin, and I snuggled into my motel bed, exhausted, and dug into a recent podcast about Chappaquiddick–the event–and hoped the pain from the day of burning my skin would dissipate quickly.
I loved Martha’s Vineyard and look forward to a longer stay one day, with plenty of sunblock.