The Vineyard

On Sunday a friend at church was amused when she asked Sophia what we had been doing over the weekend. Her reply was, "I have no idea. I never know what goes on around here!" Where Sophia gets her personality will continue to be debated, but in the mean time, for Sophia, I will recap our weekend on Martha's Vineyard. 

Saturday morning we strapped our bikes to the back of our car, packed our bags full of towels and sunblock and set the GPS to the ferry terminal in Woods Hole. (Sophia, have you forgotten that notorious Cape traffic we were caught in, causing us to miss the first ferry and almost the second an hour and a half later?)

We arrived in Woods Hole and we suddenly felt like immigrants. Travelers were bustling through the ticket office and then up the gang way, laden with bags and roller suit cases, some confident where they were going, while others looking a little confused. As soon as the ferry began it's crossing of Vineyard Sound, it was clear that our journey was worth while. This summer it has been a rare treat to have a dry day, so a beautiful day with clear skies on an Saturday was just about as much as we could ask for,  bringing out sailboats and sea kayakers. We made our way up the coast of the Vineyard, past light houses tucked between property that must belong to oil tycoons and movie stars. (Remember MV's legendary Shenandoah with the black dog flag floating in the harbor in honor of the timeless Black Dog Tavern?) 

At Vineyard Haven Steve and I parted ways, with him taking the older children on a three mile bike ride along the sea to Oak Haven and me taking the three little ones on the bus.  

After we met Steve and the kids, we had a picnic on the town green overlooking Nantucket Sound. The charming Victorian houses reminded us of the island's whaling history, with over twenty-five percent of the world's whalers sailing from Martha's Vineyard during the 19th century. 

We then made our way "up island" to Sylvia Beach. We spent the afternoon diving for shells still perfectly shaped, balancing out into the sea on the jetty, searching for crabs, and finally sneaking in a little tri-athalon training. (Did you forget how fitting it was that you wore your shark goggles at the same beach on which Jaws was filmed?) 

We brushed the sand off our legs and let the sun dry our bathing suits as we walked into town. Our first stop was the Flying Horses Carousel, the oldest merry-go-round in the country. The kids loved the ponies with real horse hair and the challenge of being the last one to catch the brass ring. (How could any of us forget Emilie catching the last brass ring twice in a row? We watched as she rode her two free turns.) 

We then made our way to the Carousel Ice Cream shop for scoops of homemade peppermint, Snickers, and boysenberry ice cream. 

Our last stop of the day was a visit to the cottages, the remnants of the religious campmeeting movement during the 1800's. (Do you remember how we explained that, as a young boy, Joseph Smith attended the same type of religious campmeetings that took place on the island? These gingerbread houses soon took the place of the temporary tents that circled the tabernacle from which the preachers would deliver their sermons.) 

As the sun began to set, Steve and the kids wheeled their bikes to the ferry terminal and I followed behind with two tired children in the stroller and one sleeping baby in the Bjorn. Waiting for our return trip to the Cape, we discussed future plans on the Vineyard, which would include, we hoped, several nights in a beach house.