North by Southwest

If you are in New York and someone tells you they are going upstate, you can reasonably assume they are heading in the direction of Buffalo or Albany. If you are in Michigan and someone tells you they will be vacationing upstate, you might guess they are heading for Petoskey, or Traverse City, or possibly the Upper Peninsula. But when someone mentions going "upisland" around here, they are not going north -- they are probably heading west to Chilmark or Aquinnah or one of the other regions of the island that are quite unlike Edgartown, Oak Bluffs and Vineyard Haven. Head a few miles outside of the "popular" parts of the island, and you will find yourself very much in the countryside, surrounded by dense, vibrant forests and traveling along roads that are sometimes lined by stone walls that were obviously built centuries ago (keep in mind that the island was populated long before the United States of America even existed).

The initial point of my trip upisland was to visit a performing arts camp called The Yard; I wanted to see if it might be possible for me to teach classes there to make a little extra money, since part-time job prospects around here do not seem to be panning out. I got the jobs list from the Chamber of Commerce today and started going around to businesses on the list to put in applications, only to find everyone was "pretty much set" or "full up right now." Frankly, I haven't really had to look for work in more than a decade, and so it doesn't take much of this to discourage me.

Anyhow, The Yard sounded like a wonderful alternative. It's in Chilmark, which is about 12 miles (and, because of the low speed limits around here, about half an hour's drive) away from where I'm living. The drive out was quite pleasant and very picturesque, especially if you are fond of winding, sinuous roads that are shaded by huge old trees and dotted with houses that double as businesses: yoga studios, antique stores, farm markets, etc. Unfortunately, when I got to The Yard, there was no one around in the offices. There was what appeared to be a dance class in progress in one of the outlying buildings, but I didn't want to disturb anybody. So it was clear that unless I wanted to hang around and wait for class to be dismissed, this was not going to be the day to land a teaching position.

Well, I decided, if I've come all the way out here I might as well see what's around. So I went for a leisurely drive through Chilmark, out into Aquinnah and out to one of the far western points of the island, where the Aquinnah (or Gay Head) lighthouse stands. On my way to the lighthouse, I stopped off at Lobsterville Beach, which made for a delightful detour. It's a sandy stretch of oceanside that's cunningly concealed from plain view by a barrier of tall grasses and clusters of distractingly lovely flowers. In fact, the scent of the wild roses in the breeze was absolutely intoxicating.

The roses themselves are currently in full bloom -- as if that seductive aroma weren't enough to tell you -- their petals a color somewhere between a deep, rich pink and a delicate shade of purple inside each blossom is a tiny ring of yellow. The flowers closer to the beach seemed to be slightly darker than the ones near the road, although perhaps that was just a trick of the light. I couldn't help but be reminded of the quote from Alice Walker's "The Color Purple": "I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don't notice it." God can rest assured anyone who passed Lobsterville Beach would notice these ravishing roses, as well as the long-stemmed daisies that stood nearby, shuddering slightly in the light wind.

I walked down to the beach and quickly found something I couldn't believe. It was a rock that could easily have passed as a cheddar cheese roll in any bakery. The coloring and texture were uncanny. I picked it up and rinsed it off in the surf (accidentally soaking my shoes and socks in the process, but what do you expect at a beach?), and its layers of red-orange and tan glistened in the sun. I used to collect rocks as a child, a hobby I was reminded of last week when I was packing up my apartment and found a plastic chest full of various fossils and curiously shaped stones I had saved over the years. Finding this brought back happy memories.

Then I was off to the lighthouse, which was not far away. Apparently, the lighthouse is open for tours later in the summer, although it was not today, so I had to take my pictures from a fairly great distance. Even so, what a majestic sight it is, sitting serenely atop the ruggedly beautiful clay cliffs that drop off into the water. There are four other lighthouses on the island, and I will make my way to each one of them before long.

Near the lighthouse is a collection of restaurants, snack bars and gift shops. Although I wasn't terribly hungry, I was intrigued by the Aquinnah Clam Chowder, which I had heard is a local recipe. It's slightly thinner and has more of a "clammy" taste than the New England chowder most of us are used to (and it has very little in common with Manhattan clam chowder). The broth is almost clear until you stir it up; then you find the clam meat, the cubes of potato, the bits of minced onion and other chowder staples deep beneath the surface, like little sunken treasures.

Heading back from the lighthouse, I took note of how many roads and drives along the way were marked "private." In sharp contrast to Oak Bluffs or Vineyard Haven, where the houses are generally packed fairly tightly together, rural residences are generally situated on large plots of land. Another eye-catching novelty: Keep an eye out for mailboxes decorated to look like sea creatures. I saw a lobster, a shark and a whale, and I'm sure there must have been others. Those country folk may crave their privacy, but at least they have a stylish sense of humor, too.