Sunday, April 4, 2010
I was raised a north shore beach boy. Gloucester, Ipswich, and Mansfield by the Sea were all part of our weekend ritual from May to September. Mom loaded us up the car with breakfast, lunch and a 1980's laissez-faire lack of sunscreen. This blog will see the likes of Crane (all-timer), Wingaersheek, and Singing. You might be deluded by our attention to Eastham (a week every summer) or Miami (our April spot to visit family) into thinking that there are beaches that rival the great white north, but you are mistaken. You can even try them all at this great resource from the Globe: New England Beach Finder. So why kick-off the second most important season of the year? (No people, there is no coincide the pinstripes are on Yawkey Way tonight). Perhaps, like my wife, you are a southerner and the term "north shore" makes you think icy waters, or great whites. Maybe Woodman's hasn't opened for the season. Perhaps, like the sox bats, it can only get better as the weather heats up.
Let me start by saying to all you Duxbury folks, you have a perfectly lovely spot. The rocks are not nearly as bad as Cohasset, some of them were even pretty to look at (and throw into the water). We did find the parking situation with permits after Memorial Day a bit, say, elitist. But, who hasn't paid a pretty penny to get into Crane on a sunny Sunday at 8AM just to get a rare spot. Your town is quite quaint as well, although besides that cute little french bakery Cafe Vanille (that's right people, a french bakery near the beach... do with this information what you must), we couldn't really tell on Easter Sunday. There certainly was a noticeable lack of clam shacks though.
What really caught us off-guard was our friend Rio. There we were, minding our own business, building a rock castle and Sydney yells "horse!" Now we love a good equine, but we had read Eric Hill's "Spot Goes to the Beach" and I am pretty sure there were no horses. While it is dreadful enough to have the threat of beach police trucks running over your children, I can not begin to describe the horrible afterglow that a horse had left at 11AM, thus instantly evaporating all wonderful beach scents and sounds. So while I appreciate the opportunity for some middle aged men to have their Bo Derek "Ten" moment in Duxbury, (and the views were fantastic), I think next day trip we'll stick to the north, where we belong.