Back to back ventures this past weekend to the southern-most tip of Jamestown proved most healing for Julie and me. A resplendent sun greeted our mornings, and we lingered upon the rugged coast for the better part of both days, soaking up the enchanting vistas of sea and sky, an instant balm to inland souls.
It’s too bad that we could not find a cheap motel room, as we paid about the same in gas. The America’s Cup was in full swing, so no rooms were remotely available. Even in remote areas.
The first day we spent long hours on the rocks at Beavertail, admiring the advancing surf and the plentiful sailboats that plied the seas. Someone nearby told us that the Cup was starting at around 2pm, so we packed our bags and headed to Fort Wetherill, for a choice spot to witness the sport neither of us understood in the least.
It was good that we left when we did as hordes of avid boaters were trudging through the scrub to secure a good seat. A woman was kind enough to tell us to follow her, that she knew of a great place to watch the races. Dutifully, we followed and eventually were led to an open patch of grass, where many people had already set up chairs and tents for the event. The woman did tell us that there was a trail nearby, in case we wanted to watch it from the rocks. Which we preferred. We had no desire to sit amongst a mass of folk, all jabbering loudly, chittering on about who was favored, a lot of them just a different version of the armchair expert. Plus, it was hotter than hell on that patch of turf.
So with our bags and chairs we slipped and slid down a rather precipitous path, and carefully made our way upon the rocks. It proved to be a most wise choice indeed.
Nary a soul was there, and we managed to secure our chairs on the uneven rocks, plopped ourselves down, and popped open a cold Pepsi. Perfect. And then we scanned the channel and wondered what all the fuss was about. We had no idea what the racing boats even looked like!
Eventually though, we saw eight tall and sleek, corporate icon-clad sailboats appear and surmised that those were the boats in question. Once the races were in full swing, other folk clambered nearby, to gain a fine perch to witness the proceedings.
The wind shifted, and soon Julie had towels draped on her as well as a sweatshirt. It was amazing how suddenly cool it became. The water was quite choppy in the channel, and it appeared that the Oracle team was winning, under the fine guidance of Mr. Spithill.
Having had enough of racing that we did not comprehend, and since it was getting rather chilly, we departed the scene, making our way back to the car, escaping the crowds that would soon follow.
We then decided to partake in a walk/run along Narragansett Beach, something we are quite fond of, and something that we usually reserve for sunrises. But since it was late afternoon, and fast approaching the hour where one does not have to spend $20 to park nor $5 just to walk on the beach, we took our time getting there. In fact, since it was not quite 5:30, we pulled into Brickley’s, an ice cream emporium that is quite popular with the summer crowd. Navigating through the masses of ponderous people (perhaps they should refrain from the high-octane butterfat offerings) we purchased our ‘single’ cones and fled to the shady comfort of a tent outside. Dripping from the still intense heat, we hurriedly consumed our treats and resumed our venture south to the beach, to work off some of our high-carb dessert.
We parked and immediately had to use the facilities, to lighten ourselves before our jaunt near the waves. Many more obese folk were witnessed here, women who should not be wearing bikinis and some men that should be wearing bikini tops.
A tremendous crowd greeted our eyes as we wended our way upon the beach, more people now at this time of day than what we have seen in late August. But the tide was agreeable, and there was ample room to maneuver around the colorful cabanas and umbrellas, weaving deftly around tiny kids who were oblivious to all around.
A pewter sea, with long graceful swells followed our footsteps, and it always remains a pleasure to stroll the length at first, and then upon our return to run. It was a perfect evening. Sometimes though, it’s best not to have a bellyful of decadent ice cream, for we had to curtail our run half way through because of a frozen ball of dairy in our tummies. But the remainder of the walk was quite nice, watching the lowering sun and seeing the Towers lit by last rays of sunlight.
Back in our car after switching to sandals, we again headed south, to Galilee, to watch the sunset there. Here then were we able to take some nice photos of the setting sun, replete with harbor scenes and magnificent cloud formations. Just a beautiful way to finish our day. One is reluctant to leave, but we did have to meander back to Sturbridge, for early bed and a return to such splendid vistas in the morn’.
We highly recommend such an outing, to park early at Beavertail, and enjoy the rugged coast and cool ocean breezes. Even if it is for only a few hours, your soul will be renewed.
Copyright, Paul Grignon, 2012, All Rights Reserved.