Chappaquiddick: No jokes, please

There was something stalking me in the bushes. All I had wanted was a leisurely walk down the winding roads of Chappaquiddick, and now something was following me. With every step I took, I heard a slight crunching in the shrubbery nearby. I looked over to see if I could identify what kind of creature was hiding in the leaves, but I could see nothing. I decided maybe this would be an excellent time to cross over to the other side of the street -- and maybe start jogging.

After all, Chappaquiddick is definitely a rural area and you never know what might be watching you. A thin strip of land separated from Edgartown by water, Chappaquiddick is so peaceful and rustic it makes Edgartown look like a Mardi Gras by comparison. In contrast to the chi-chi boutiques of Edgartown, there is only one business on Chappaquiddick (reportedly some sort of convenience store and car-repair garage) and I did not see it. Most of the rest of the Chappaquiddick is ruggedly pretty countryside: tall grasses, wildflowers, robust trees, etc. You can find seashells in the grass. You can also discover more goldenrod and Queen Anne's Lace than you ever thought could exist in one place, making this a dicey destination for anyone with either allergies or a paralyzing fear of chiggers.

At one time, Chappaquiddick was apparently connected to Edgartown by a narrow strip of beach that was washed away in a tumultuous storm a few years ago. Now, getting to Chappaquiddick requires taking a ferry, although it would not be mistaken for the jumbo-sized ferries that carry us back and forth to Woods Hole. This ferry is barely larger than a pontoon and can only accommodate three vehicles at a time; passengers on foot or bicycle are squeezed into the space on the side of the boat. The entire journey takes about 45 seconds, and you could probably swim there if you were willing to brave the current and the busy boat traffic.

I had been planning a visit to Chappaquiddick since mid-June, but every time I had started out for the ferry, a storm rolled in. When I awakened yesterday to glorious sunshine and warm but not blazingly hot temperatures, I finally decided to try again.

Strolling through Chappaquiddick definitely feels like taking a walk in the countryside. All along the road, you find gorgeous flowers and plump, possibly poisonous berries dangling from their vines. Towering trees provide ample shade. Looking out over the terrain, you see the sleek sailboats and ivory-white yachts you would expect to find in the surrounding waters.

Chappaquiddick is best-known, of course, for being the place where Ted Kennedy drove off his car off the Dike Bridge in 1969, resulting in the death of passenger Mary Jo Kopechne. This incident has not been forgotten in the Vineyard: In fact, there were fliers posted in Edgartown for a "40th anniversary tour" of the accident site. Thanks, I think I'll pass.

You might expect a place with such a strong Kennedy association to be luxurious and classy. But I had to chuckle when I saw the Chappaquiddick Beach Club, which sounds impressively upscale but actually looks like one of those old British holiday camps, with tacky, flimsy-looking dressing rooms and little more than a well-worn white picket fence to keep undesirables out.

Many of the houses are positioned far back from the road, most of them located behind walls of trees or at the end of long driveways so that you can't exactly see what they're like or who might be living there. Chappaquiddick is obviously a place for those who like seclusion: The scenery is dotted with signs reading "private drive," "private property," "no trespassing," etc.

I never did find out exactly what was lurking in the brush, watching my every move. Perhaps it wasn't an animal at all, but a Chappaquiddick resident, worried that I might dare to actually set foot on his private property or private drive. Thankfully, I resisted the urge to trespass and made it back to Edgartown in one piece.