There is a little retreat not many people know about in the Northeast, at the farthest extension into the Atlantic. At the very tip of Massachusetts’ arm is Long Point Beach. It is located right across the harbor from the hustle and bustle of tourist filled Commercial Street in Provincetown. A place that can be described as an artist’s village, fishing town, and overall wild child with no reservations or propriety.
Of all the summers I have spent in the area, I never knew of its existence. Long Point Beach has been a recent discovery of ours. About 3 years ago was when we first ventured into the harbor, on our little ocean kayaks, paddling with great fervor to discover what may lie at this last stretch of land before the expanse of the great Atlantic. A quiet, little island sits, accessible only by boat or a walk across a raised rock bridge during low tide. It is a little recluse featuring wonderful beachy things. Glossy stones, each one unique in color, minerals, shape, and texture. Wispy, faded green beach grass that warns you about getting too close with its sharp texture. Even a lighthouse, a short, fat little thing that tempts
your curiosity but always remains locked. You even feel like a great explorer, docking your boat on the shore, overlooking the town you left behind, then running and leaping as fast as you can through the trail of beach grass over the burning hot sand, to finally arrive at the squat lighthouse. Reserve an hour or two for a stroll and a little lounging, then brave the harbor once again! After fighting the choppy little waves, weaving through anchored boats, and reboarding after any potential capsizes, restore spent energy at Mojo’s. Fresh seafood, burgers, and French fries is a meal well deserved of a voyager mild