Halloween At Sea: 24 Spooky Hours on Block Island

November 4, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

Block Island North Lighthouse has protected the northern tip of the island since 1867.

The town of New Shoreham, Rhode Island, lies 13 miles out at sea, south of Narragansett (RI) and northeast of Montauk (NY). The least-populous municipality in the state boasts a thriving community like no other with nearly 40 percent of the land preserved for conservation. We skipped the Halloween Parade and mischief of New York City this year, to get spooky elsewhere with a one-night escape to the Bermuda of the North, Block Island.

Block Island is just as ideal a New England oasis for seasonal visitors, as it is for a year round community of roughly 1,000 residents. With a diverse history rooted deeply in fishing, farming, sailing and tourism, Block represents a progressive 21st century island that will perpetually celebrate its past.

We’ve visited Block since we were kids, but hadn’t been in a few years, so we figured why not mix-up the routine Halloween debauchery by exploring a quiet island town on the spookiest of weekends! We took ourselves and our car on the traditional ferry out of Pt. Judith (RI). During the summer months, you can take an Amtrak or a Metro-North/Shoreline East combo directly to a high-speed (express) ferry which leaves from right behind the train station in New London, CT (note that this is walk-on only, so if bringing a car you must venture to Pt. Judith; alternatively there is a less frequent high-speed ferry that departs from Montauk).

Aboard the traditional ferry having left Point Judith (Galilee), RI for Block Island, RI.

Rather last minute we booked a suite at The Darius Inn, conveniently located just a two minute walk up the road from the Old Harbor on Dodge Street (directly next door to the Island Free Library). Two sister opened the inn in 2013 which includes all necessary amenities plus a fantastic bohemian charm. The rooms were decorated with global art pieces, funky patterned fabrics on all the pillows, sheets and curtains, plus each night’s stay included an evening happy hour and a full hearty breakfast every morning. The owners even left us a treat on our doorstep; a copy of the book Ghosts of Block Island, which perfectly set the mood for the night ahead. We ended their season (along with a few other tenants) by being the last night’s occupants before closing for the winter. Despite it being their last night, their gracious hospitality will keep us coming back for years to come.

Once checked in, we were off for a day of blue skies, warm weather, and a Spotify playlist full of appropriately queued sea shanties. With a picnic fresh from the island’s main grocery, we took off for the North Light. We set up shop on the far side of the North Light, taking in the incredibly sunny weather by skipping stones and wading in the waves. After that we went for a leisurely hike through the Clay Head Preserve on the northeast side of the island. On a trail running along the ocean cliffs, we spotted a shipwrecked motorboat, and a pod of four seals sunbathing on a rock down below! After nearly getting lost in “The Maze” (another name for the preserve), we headed south to catch sunset out in front of the old Coast Guard Station at the mouth of the Great Salt Pond. Over a celebratory toast, we read a story from our new book about Norman the cook, whose spirit still haunts the Coast Guard Station property to this day!

Hiking through Clay Head Preserve (aka "The Maze") along on the northeastern cliffs of the island.

After an awesome happy hour at the inn, plus a few quick lobster rolls and chowder at the Old Island Pub, we slipped into our Wes Anderson themed outfits and headed to Block’s highlight event for the evening: Yellow Kitten Tavern’s Halloween Costume Party! With over a hundred people dressed to the nines (including Pizza Rat) plus an unstoppable DJ (reminiscent to that of The Pequot House… R.I.P.), the wickedly themed bash quickly became a Halloween tradition we’d love to revisit.

With sand in our hair and full from a delectable breakfast, we kicked off the morning with a visit down to the Southeast Light then a pop over to the Mohegan Bluffs. The southern end of the island is truly exposed to the sea, and is at mercy to the elements; enough so that they had to physically move the lighthouse back 300 feet from the cliffs in the early 1990s! Falling into the wind off the bluffs was the icing on our Halloweekend cake. After a quick drive out to Rodman’s Hollow, we made it back to Old Harbor just in time for the ferry, homeward bound. So if you’re ever in the mood to get out of the city and get a little more “off-the-grid” for All Hallows’ Eve, we’d highly recommend checking-in for a full-fledged funky fest on the amazing Island of Block.

Walking west past the Coast Guard Station, with the mouth of the Great Salt Pond to the right.

Leaf Peekin' in Beacon: Autumn Days in the Hudson River Valley

October 14, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

View looking south of the Hudson River Valley, walking along trails connecting Scenic Hudson's Long Dock Park and Madam Brett Park.

Sixty miles north of New York City in Dutchess County, a historic town with industrial roots now boasts one of the Hudson River Valley’s most thriving arts scenes, is home to a range of impressive preservation projects, plus has a range of great eateries, shops, and more. Scrimshaw Collective recently spent the day leaf (and art) peeping around the picturesque city of Beacon, NY. Originally settled where the Fishkill Creek meets the Hudson, Beacon became a mill town, operating grist, then quickly acquired a claim to fame (as far as “claims-to-fame” in the 1800s go), as the “Hat Making Capital of the US,” with an abundant amount of hat factories across the town. Now with a stronger touristy vibe than manufacturing scene, Beacon is a quick hour and twenty-five minute Metro-North ride up the Hudson River line – you could drive 90 minutes, but the views of the river from the train are gorgeous, plus everything’s very accessible by foot; leave the cars at home! The station (situated right on the river) is about a 15 minute walk east of downtown and extremely convenient for commuters and visitors alike.

Arriving on the platform just after 10:30 AM, we hopped off the train and headed south to the world-renowned contemporary art museum, Dia: Beacon, home to the Dia Art Foundation’s collections from the 1960s to today. Opened in 2003, with upwards of 300,000 square feet of space, the Dia: Beacon fills a former 1920s Nabisco box-printing factory, and utilizes the space majestically. Admission is only $12, the exhibits are out of this world, and overall very much worth the time. From fluorescent light displays, to sculptures that fill the room, the collection’s pieces truly range in medium and meaning – P.S. Look out for a feature specifically on Dia: Beacon under our “Art” page coming soon!

After an incredible museum visit, it was time to get back outside under the 70 degree October sunshine! We walked back towards the station, crossed the train tracks and entered Scenic Hudson’s Long Dock Park. Tucked along the shore, this park provides a beautiful green space and access point to the river (ideally for kayaks or canoes – so if you’re planning on bringing these, a car might actually be the better transport). A large red barn has been converted in to Scenic Hudson River Center, providing educational programming and events. We hiked south along a trail tucked between the train tracks and river, which eventually bends left (back over the train tracks) and turns up into Madam Brett Park. This preserve hugs the north side of Fishkill Creek (click left for trail map), and features an awesome boardwalk that runs parallel to an abandoned grist mill. A very pleasant stroll through the woods, provides great views of the foliage, a bit of history, and finishes with a great observation view of the Tioronda Falls.

Looking south down Fishkill Creek in Madam Brett Park.

Abandoned building along Main Street in downtown Beacon.

After the falls, we walked about twenty minutes north into town. Fashioned as many Northeastern river towns are, the quaint Main Street is full of solid brick buildings (storefronts with apartments up above). Right along the river were a number of old warehouse/factory buildings, some looking in better condition than others. A newly renovated hotel, restaurant and event space, The Roundhouse, looks over another waterfall, and sits across the street from a dilapidated building, that is proposed to be transformed into luxury lofts; a city folk’s fantasy – a mini-Williamsburg waiting to happen! Plus there’s street art (i.e. sculptures, murals, installed paintings) around every corner, which gives the neighborhoods some serious gusto, which mixes perfectly well with the foliage lined alleys. Perusing down Main St., we stopped some real quality sandwiches at the Beacon Bread Company, a little glass blowing exhibit at the Hudson Beach Glass shop, and finished off the afternoon with apple pie ice cream at the Beacon Creamery.

The full day was exactly what the seasonal doctor ordered, to get our fall on. If you need a quick trip out of the city, and are looking for some funky town energy, great art, and first place foliage, then Beacon is a perfect wanderlust outing for New York’s weekend warrior.

Great old cars scattered across town, especially this guy E-braked up a side street.

Postcards from Pastimes: Keeping it in the Family

September 21, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

There’s always something special about a good find at a thrift store, but a recent trip to a particular second-hand shop lead me to the ultimate wanderlust treasure. Back in our neck of the woods of southeastern Connecticut, during one of the last weekends of summer, I decided to peel off Route 1 and check out the jam-packed antique store, Mine. With some time to kill and nothing specific on my mind, I’d see if there was anything worth scooping up for the shoebox apartment I now call home in Manhattan. Little did I know that this quick pit-stop was about to become a moment I’ll never forget.

Perusing the shop, I made my way into a back hall, and spotted a perfectly folded American flag. 50 stars, all cotton, made in Pennsylvania, roughly 9x6 feet, for $28… I’d hit the jackpot. The quality of this flag was incredibly more impressive than those at such markets like the Brooklyn Flea, considering the size for less than thirty bucks. I picked up that flag, and continued hunting. Making my way to the very back of the room, I came upon a large rectangular basket with upwards of 400 postcards. Growing up, my mom would frame vintage postcards of our hometown and places we’ve visited. I guess I subconsciously now have a thing for vintage postcards, so I took a scan through the stack. Diving right into the middle of the batch, I came across a card depicting a scene of swimmers jumping in the Harlam Springs in front of the Arrowhead Hotel (the one just below with the palm trees and mountain range in the distance). I think to myself, now anywhere with mountains and palm trees, I could get used to that.

After studying the image on the front, I flip it over to see the note. “Oh you winter weather!” it reads, sent from Riverside, California on November 14, 1911, to the local town of Norwich, Connecticut. Initially, I think how awesome, a card more than 100 years old is in such great condition and made such a cross-country trip back in the day; how long did it back then for a postcard to travel from coast-to-coast? Then examining the sendee, I nearly fall to the ground. As mentioned, the card was sent to Norwich, CT (where my father and his family grew up), and the card is addressed to Mr. Arthur Crowell at 102 Williams Street… Well Mr. Arthur Crowell of Williams Street in Norwich happened to be my great-great grandfather. I couldn’t believe what I was holding. A postcard sent to my great-great grandfather nearly 104 years ago, and it had stumbled into my hands… I was quite honestly speechless.

I immediately went through the entire basket of postcards hoping to find another one to Arthur. After 45 minutes of looking postcards from pastimes, I found 21 cards addressed to Arthur Crowell, and six to his son Frank Crowell (my great-grandfather). Cards sent from all over the US, Canada, the UK, Bermuda and beyond, between the years 1908 and 1914. Having trouble processing what had just happened, I shared my story with the employees who rang me out with the “Fate Rate” giving me something like a family discount (only on the cards, not the flag). I walked out of there with my heart pounding and a new long list of destinations to add to my bucketlist. Someday I’d like to stand where the photos in the cards are from, and think back to the people who were writing these historic men of my family lineage. A really blah afternoon turned into a super surreal moment I’ll remember forever, and one that proves these cards were meant to come back to someone in the family; I’m just lucky they made their was back to me. Check out a few of my favorites photographed below!

36 Hours in Vacationland

August 24, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

Scrimshaw recently covered some serious ground over a quick two-day/one-night weekend in Southern Maine, spending a jam-packed 36-hour whirlwind exploring island trails, cobblestone streets, and eating as much seafood as possible along the way. There’s a lot to see in New England’s largest state, but this summer we sunk our teeth into coastal Maine, scouring thousands of islands, searching for that perfect wanderlust getaway. An island was settled on for the first destination, a loose planned return itinerary was mapped out, and we were on our way.

After two trains, no planes, and one willing Prius, I hit the road for a little town called New Harbor, in pursuit of a 9:00 AM ferry out to the North Atlantic oasis of Monhegan. Covering nearly one square mile twelve miles out at sea, Mohegan Island boasts a year-round community of less than 65 people. Known traditionally for its lobstering trade, the island has more than 17 miles of hiking trails, a rusting shipwreck, Maine’s only island brewery, plus a thriving artist’s colony that blossoms during the summer months. After a fifty minute voyage, the ferry pulls up to the sole dock nestled in a quiet harbor. The much smaller island of Manana (pronounced like banana) hugs the Western side of Monhegan, creating a narrow channel, safe for boats to moor and people to paddle about. With no cars – nor paved roads – on the island, four pickup trucks await to deliver luggage (if you so choose) to passenger’s destinations; opting not to use the trucks, I headed up the dirt road on foot for my home for the night, the Mohegan House. Getting a room on the fourth floor, I quickly changed into my trunks, dug out my goggles, and sprinted back off the main town dock plunging into the blue ocean below. I swam furiously across to Manana attempting to ignore the 58 °F water. The neighboring rock historically housed a Coast Guard station (now uninhabited), but a rambunctious drove of goats (the local landscapers) run the place. The alpha-male goat wasn’t warming up to me as much as I’d hoped, so I quickly took in the picturesque view of Mohegan from across the bay, and dove back in swimming for a barnacle lined ladder fastened to the town dock.

After an al fresco lobster roll down at the Fish House, I spent the day leisurely strolling around. I stopped by the Memorial Library, caught a boat tour aboard the Balmy Days II around the island highlighting great views of the eastern cliffs, participated in the village’s live-auction to support MISCA (the Monhegan Island Sustainable Community Association), then finished the afternoon at the Mohegan Brewing Company. While sampling the island's ales in the brewery's side yard, I befriended a couple of seasonal regulars who’ve been coming here for years. As the stories began flowing and the pints kept pouring, we soon discovered we had mutual friends back in Groton Long Point! To make such a connection out at sea, reaffirmed that the world really isn't that big after all, and proved once again that life truly is good. I rang out the evening toasting G&T's over steak tips on my new friend's deck, followed by one of the most colossal Milky Way gazing sessions I’ve had in years; ZERO LIGHT POLLUTION!

Before I knew it, I was on my last grapefruit wedge of the complementary breakfast at the Monhegan House’s restaurant, tucked my most recent copy of AFAR magazine under my arm, and was running down to catch the ferry back to the mainland. My new friends met at the town wharf to bid their farewell, and introduced me to the awesome tradition of casting a handful of wildflowers over the side of the ferry into the ocean, as those staying wave goodbye! The amazing power of community out on Monhegan resonated over the sound as I watched the whale-shaped island disappear in the distance.

Back behind the wheel, I headed down Route 1 towards Portland, but had a few stops to make along the way. First stop was a tasty half dozen oysters on the porch at Schooner Landing Restaurant & Marina in Damariscotta. Followed by a wicked good flea market just south of Wiscasset, I then bought some fresh roadside blueberry jam from a happy toothless couple! I had a quick obligatory stop at Freeport’s Patagonia Outlet store, across from L.L. Bean, then descended into one the east coast’s best cities, Portland. I somehow found a parking spot with an hour on the meter, and made a dash for my go-to locales. Had a great visit with the guys over at Maine Surfer’s Union, and chatted with them about their recent “Any Port in a Storm” store throwdown. Off to my second round of oysters at the increasingly popular Eventide, I got a seat right at the bar near the shucking team who made the annoyance of opening an oyster look utterly graceful. With two minutes to spare on the meter, I had more stop to make before crossing into New Hampshire, and that was a newer brewery in Lyman, called Funky Bow. The father/son operated company had a live band going strong with a huge yard of tables and chairs (bustling with customers), brick oven pizza, puppies galore and a damn fine “So Folkin’ Hoppy” IPA! Their gracious hospitality, delectable brews, and laidback atmosphere only had me wanting more; everyone should make them a priority on their next New England micro-brewery tour!

Alas, the trip had come to end as I drove south along I-95, heading back to “reality.” The great state of Maine offers endless activities, incredible people, and lots of room to explore. So take up some of our suggestions on your next trip north and make sure to get a long pour of the incomparable Vacationland.

The Thimble Islands: A Coastal Connecticut Classic

August 17, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

One of the beautiful homes on the outskirts of the Thimble Islands, with intricate stone work along the porch and exterior of the property.

Just east of New Haven, Connecticut, lies the tiny village of Stony Creek (located in Branford). One of the many highlight’s of Stony Creek’s coastal historic district are the collection of pink granite rocks scattered across the harbor, known at the Thimble Islands; in addition to making a great foundation for a summer cottage - the Thimble Island's pink granite stone was also used to construct the base for NY's very own Statue of Liberty! The Thimble Islands are a very special group of islands that vary in size, usage, property value, and history. The first European to come across the islands, was Dutchman Adrian Block, more commonly associated with Rhode Island’s popular destination, Block Island. Through the generations, Thimble Islands have consistently maintained a truly New England charm like no other.

Operating off the end of the town pier on Indian Point Road, the Thimble Island Cruise line takes visiting tourists on a 45 minutes boat tour navigating the shallow waters. Avoiding swimmers, boaters and a heap of paddle boarders, the captain and first mate educate the onboard stowaways with a rich history of the various islands, their structures, owners (past and present), plus lots of fun tidbits thrown in. Picture a leisurely ride in one of Disney’s parks, except instead of taking pictures of mechanical puppets chiming in a high-pitched unison, you’re taking a joy ride on a tiny motorboat photographing multi-million dollar properties.

A majority of the tiny islands house single home properties, but there are a few islands that have more than one house on them. One of the more populated islands, Money Island, prior to the turn of the twentieth century, used to have a “thriving” year-round community on it, with a church, general store, post office, and even a single-lane bowling alley (although you had to set the pins up manually)! With names like, Mother-In-Law, Outer, Bear, Rogers, Horse, Cut-in-Two, these islands boast some really fun histories, and are simply fascinating to look at. Day dreaming of winning the lottery, we wrapped up the tour and headed back for ice cream at the hole-in-the-wall cafe, Stony Creek Marine & Cuisine. Devouring some well-deserved mint chocolate chip, we briefly contemplated buying one the cheaper islands currently on the market: a single rock with a wooden gazebo built on it for just under $200,000.00… but the catch is that - you can’t build on it! The current owner occasionally ties his houseboat up the small dock and hangs out in the gazebo during the summer months. Without giving any more of the tour away, the most expensive island property sold for $22 million not long ago, and is one of the craziest private oases we’ve seen!

Here’s a link for the tour company, Thimble Island Cruises, so next time you’re stuck on I-95 on your way back to the city, need a quick hour break on the water, and don't mind spending $12.00, check out their schedule to learn a little bit more about the nutmeg state’s coastal lineage.

Diner en Blanc: A Classy Flash Mob Dinner Party

August 5, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

Finding yourself in the middle of a flash mob dinner party, with 5,000 New Yorkers dressed to the nines in all white clothing, is the perfect way to spend an evening in July.

Diner en Blanc is a dinner party that kept secret until minutes before the event actually begins. While this particular night has become cultish and more popular in recent years, it originated 27 years ago when Francois Pasquier wanted to have a dinner party with friends after returning from traveling. So many of his friends wanted to attend, he asked to meet at the Bois du Boulogne and to be dressed in all white, so they were recognizable. This event grew into the exclusive dinner party that it is today and is celebrated in only the most deserving cities all over the world.

Diner en Blanc begins when guests meet at their assigned locations all over NYC only to follow their table leader through the underbelly of the city to an undisclosed location. All this time, the people in attendance are carrying their picnic baskets full of food and their tables and chairs. Upon arrival, there is a sea of New Yorkers wearing decadent white clothing, who create elaborate dinner settings within minutes. In no time, Pier 26 transforms from an empty west side location into a thriving dinner party with thousands of guests, music, food, and lots of wine. While the event is located in NYC, the original Parisian dinner party is not lost due to the music and theme of the night.

When the announcement is made for guests to waive their napkins overhead, the night has officially begun. Between great conversation, cheering, popping of corks, clinking of wine glasses, professional bongo players and French music, the dinner is nothing short of the classiest flash mob anyone has ever been to. It doesn’t take long for the wine to flow and the dance floor to become packed, thanks to Miss Tara.

The night is filled with friends and couples, dancing, eating, drinking, and smiling all while wearing white outfits. But, just as quickly as we arrived, the event concludes and everyone disappears into the warm NYC night, ending another successful year of Diner en Blanc.

Saratoga Opens Its Gates

July 29, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

There are only two rules when it comes to Saratoga.

1. No Glass

2. ALWAYS box your bets

This past weekend we took a little Scrim to upstate New York to partake in the festivities of opening weekend at the Saratoga Race Course. When someone says they are going to the racetracks, one either imagines a Bill Murray-type from “St. Vincent” gambling away life savings or decadent groups of people dressing to the nines in vineyard vines clothing with big hats. Both stereotypes hold true, as some of the most fun at the track is people watching.

For the novice, it is important to know the lay of the land of the track before you engage in the activities. At Saratoga, You have the common grounds, where people line up at 7am to grab a coveted picnic table. People sit here with cases of beer (No Glass!) betting, eating, and talking among friends. Moving in, you have the grandstand seats, which are reserved and cost money, but are totally worth it if you really want a good view of the race. Finally you have the Club House, which overlooks the finish line, and the Boxes, which seem to be for the owners or just those who want to spend the ridiculous amount of money.

The 10 minute warning bell rings, people finish their last bite, and make their way over to place bets. The betting is a foreign language if you are brand new, between the Exacta and Trifecta with the Win Place Show and Superfecta bets, one can really get lost in it all. But, when in doubt BOX your bets! Bets are placed, people rush to the side of the track or their respective seats, and the bell rings to start the race. No matter where you are watching it from, the race is pure excitement for about 1 minute with the last 10 seconds a combination of cheering and swearing. Its truly thrilling.

Whether you won or lost, you know you have 25 minutes in between races to repeat that process; drink, eat, talk, bet, and cheer for your horse. You do this 10 more times and you have a full day at the track surrounded by great people with good food all looking to enjoy themselves in summer sunshine. If you happen to win some money along the way, even better.

The Ol' Port of Newport

July 22, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

A schooner sails around Newport Neck past the southern tip of Jamestown, RI up into Narragansett Bay.

In hot pursuit for our next adventure, last weekend’s excursion brought us to a globally renowned sailing town nestled in the country’s tiniest state, Newport, Rhode Island. Our old-time pal and London based writer, Rose Frog, tagged along for the ride as we explored the polished pearl of the Ocean State. If you’ve ever rolled your eyes at someone using the word summer as a verb, the chance that new verbal usage originated here is highly likely. Known famously for its outrageously lavish mansions that once housed America’s Gilded Age elite, this seaside city has more up its sleeve than a few marble dining rooms and a pretty face. As generations come and go, Newport continues to grow its expansive history. Join as we dust off some of Newport’s past while experiencing today’s lifestyle found on Aquidneck Island’s largest village.

With squinting eyes, we hit the road early, speeding east up Route 1 to Charlestown, RI’s java mecca, Dave’s Coffee. The family owned business is a certified organic craft coffee roaster, that keeps it wicked local. We left their espresso bar/bakery grinning ear-to-ear with iced coffees in-hand and a Megalodon-sized blueberry muffin. When in the area, stop by and scoop up a bottle of Dave’s Coffee Syrup to make your very own coffee milk, a quintessential Rhode Island morning classic!

Crossing both the Jamestown Verrazzano and Pell Bridges, caffeinated and well-fed, we descended into downtown Newport. First stop was to step back into a bygone era by visiting the area’s most historic mansions. The Preservation Society of Newport County offers award-winning audio and guided tours through an impressive collection of house museums. We visited two different “summer cottages,” both of which housed various clans of the illustrious American-family, the Vanderbilts. First was the Breakers, and second was Marble House. These seasonal palaces for North American “royalty” were full of surprising facts, and one can only image the parties – and scandals – that occurred within those rooms. Rose Frog pointed out an interesting fact when walking through Gertrude Vanderbilt’s childhood bedroom at the Breakers; Gertrude eventually married and became Mrs. Whitney, who actually founded the Whitney Museum of American Art here in New York (we’re headed there this week - so stay tuned for our piece on The Whitney).

Touring two houses with a tangled set of audio headphones was quite enough time indoors. Heading north into town, we snagged free parking off Memorial Boulevard and ducked into the Water Brothers surf and skate shop. Owned and operated by Sid Abruzzi since 1971, this iconic storefront embodies a huge pulse of the surfing culture in Newport. The Water Brothers team recently celebrated their fifth annual Surf Fest down at Fort Adams with honored guests such as Christian Flethcer, Jason “Ratboy” Collins, Peter Townend, Jason Jessee, Kalani Robb and Greg Loehr. Searching for the best hidden lobster roll in town, we asked Sid and his crew where they’d go for an off the beaten path catch, and their suggestion proved hugely successful.

Rolling by the sea past Second Beach out to the Sachuset Point National Wildlife Refuge. — Rolling by the sea past Second Beach out to the Sachuset Point National Wildlife Refuge.

Per their recommendation, we went straight to the pavilion at First Beach. On the upper deck of the rotunda, there’s a little restaurant filled with brightly colored inflatable animals and full of barefoot beachgoers. The lunch deal was no joke: two hot lobster rolls with fries for $14.95 - absolute heaven! Our meal wouldn’t have been complete without one of Rhode Island’s staple beverages, a refreshing Del’s Lemonade right out of the truck. Fully content with our midday snack, we dipped in the ocean over at Second Beach to quickly cool off, before a stroll around Sachuset Point National Wildlife Refuge. The beautifully protected 242 acre peninsula features panoramic views in every direction. In the distance, the chapel of St. George’s private boarding school stands tall over the beach keeping watch as if it’s a lighthouse.

With the afternoon fading on, we unfortunately had to start making our way back, but an impromptu craving for coffee and ice cream called for one final pit stop on Newport’s neighboring island of Jamestown. Seemingly a bit more residential, Jamestown presented a less opulent grandeur than Newport, with an almost more communal vibe. We shot down to Jamestown’s southeastern tip to see a historic architectural feat known at Clingstone. The enormous shingled-style 23 room home hangs tight on a rock out in the harbor, and is a local sight to be seen. Driving around the borough, we got our fix at a little café called Spinnakers, and we were back on the road for home. It’s tough to imagine what life here might have been like in the 1920s, but yet again this New England city gave us a warm welcome and proves to be wondrous summer playground. After a fully stocked day, it’s pretty clear why everyone-who’s-anyone wanted to “summer” here!

4th of July on the Point

July 6, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

South Beach dock, Groton Long Point, CT.

This past weekend, we as a nation celebrated our Independence Day by stuffing our faces with hot dogs and watermelon, setting off bootleg fireworks, and spending quality time with family and friends. Our weekend was just that, plus a shit ton of sparklers.

American flags galore, we spent the three-day-holiday up at our childhood neighborhood, Groton Long Point, Connecticut. This tiny peninsula jutting out into Fishers Island Sound, home to a tough batch of year-round residents, explodes with a bustling summer crowd come July 4th Weekend. People always claim summer begins over Memorial Day Weekend (or more correctly the third week of June with the Summer Solstice), but for us summer has and always will commence over the Fourth of July. As my parents say every year when the July families move in, “It’s like someone turned on a light switch.” Then come Labor Day, that light is turned off again and a stillness rests over the point for another ten months. Regardless the time of year, this community always exudes togetherness, but there’s something truly special that ignites with the kickoff of summertime.

Here, shoes are optional, and basically not encouraged. You’ve got to earn the toughness of your summer feet. Personally, I prefer to have the sand or grit between my toes, but maybe that’s just me. I started off the weekend with an aggressively early sunrise walk with the family dog. Exchanging “Good Mornings” with those passing by, it felt great to be home. Strolling by front lawns scattered with bicycles parked alongside Thule covered mini-vans, it was great to know the season had finally arrived.

A series of “not-unfortunate” events really take the weekend by storm, essentially setting up everyone’s social schedule for the next 48 hours. The neighborhood gathers Friday night for the bash, “Hello Summer” on the back deck behind the casino. Dressed in their summer best, it’s a free-for-all to catch up after a long winter over an open bar; which leads to some rather interesting stories I’ll say. Then after the last gin and tonic, it’s all of a sudden the morning of 4th and the annual GLP Road Race 5K is underway… without me. I decided to cheer them all on from the back stoop over a hefty bowl of Cherrios. As the morning quickly turned to noon, 30+ people migrated to our backyard for the annual 4th of July Cookout. Pasta and fruit salads were on point this year (per usual), accompanied by endless burgers, dogs, lemonade and Narragansett’s. My parents hold this barbeque each year before GLP’s bike and float parade. A sea of red, white, and blue zoomed by with elaborately decorated bikes leading the pack, followed by the Point’s finest vehicular talents. The festivities pressed on into the night, celebrating a close friend’s birthday in downtown Mystic, which lead to a well-needed lazy Sunday spent on the Boardwalk, down on Main Beach. The scent of sunscreen and seaweed lingered off as the last games of corn hole and KanJam were finished, and it was back on the train for New York.

Currently residing in a city where some days I feel like an lost ant, there’s something fantastic about returning home to a spot where everybody knows your name (not to be confused with - but basically the same as -Cheers). Enjoy a glimpse of where we grew up, and hope you all had awesome 4th of July celebrations!

A Weekend at the End of the World

July 2, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

If you’re like me, a refreshing weekend out of the city has become a routine hobby. The spring, full of weddings and festivals, I noticed a fair amount of friends were dipping out more and more frequently. And now that summer is very much underway, like those around me, I’m not sure when my next weekend in NYC actually is.

Busy hustling up and down the east coast, there was one particular trip that really did ignite that heat for summer getaways: a trip to the end of the world – Montauk. A tiny hamlet situated at the eastern most end of Long Island celebrates life in the most amazing way. With just over 3,000 year-round residents, that population swells to exponential numbers during the summer months. I had visited once a few years back in mid-autumn and I think I was one of two rooms booked a tiny seaside motels. Geared up for a completely different trip this year, I headed out for the last weekend of May with a group of friends who shared a house from Memorial Day through the 4th of July! I received an invite to pop out for two nights, and couldn’t turn them down. Growing up a year-round townie on a tiny point in Connecticut, I was eager to see how the communities compared seasonally. Plus my buddy who invited me along has been going to Montauk since he was a kid, so I had an official tour guide at my dispense.

With good tunes blasting in our ZipCar rental, great conversation, and many pizza slices later, we had gotten from Brooklyn to Montauk in just over three hours. Expecting the worse, planning for terrible traffic, we were pulling into the driveway just after 9:00 PM and the trip felt like a breeze. The fog quickly descended over the East End, and we were covered in mist as we walked up the house’s wrap-around deck to drop off our bags. With a massively quick turnaround, we then made the four-minute walk down to Ditch Plains beach to get inspired for the weekend. Albeit difficult to see the waves through the moonlit fog, you could absolutely hear them crashing against the shore. I couldn’t help but notice the very tall lifeguard chair standing watch over the empty beach as we headed back to the house, highly anticipating a well needed early morning surf.

Before gearing up for dreams of head high waves, we decided to stop by the ever popular Surf Lodge for a night cap. A boutique hotel with a trendy restaurant attached, The Surf Lodge boasts a booming outdoor area for concerts, movie screenings, etc., scattered with plenty of funky furniture all over. With a cooler evening, we entered to find a rather minimally filled bar. I thought it was a good turnout, but hearing from my friend that the amount of people there was “nothing,” I could only imagine the vibrancy of the space on a clear sunny evening – aka our dinner reservations there the following night! After a few refreshing cocktails and local brews, we came in hot to Pizza Village, and ordered the largest pie we could get our hands on. And it did the trick.

Before I knew it, we were pulling up our suits, and headed out to the beach. The sun hadn’t even made a crack through the clouds, as the fog had settled in even thicker than the night before. We could barely see 50 feet in front of us. I peered out into the misty sea as we paddled out, and my buddy exclaimed, “If you float out, just follow the crashing of the waves and you’ll make your way back to the beach!” It had been a hot minute since I was out surfing, so my adrenaline was pumping and I was honestly ecstatic to be back in the ocean. Just over an hour of being out there, and a good handful (for me!) of solid rides, I made my way back to shore with chilled toes and a much better attitude. Escaping from the city and falling right into the sandy sea was just what the doctor ordered.

Jelly filled croissants from Montauk Bake Shoppe, making everything good in the world!

After a quick pit stop for iced coffee and the infamous jelly croissants from the Montauk Bake Shoppe, we made a new friend on our drive back to the house. The plumpest piggy I’d seen in sometime, just running the streets, crushing life.

As Saturday progressed, the sun put in some serious effort to burn off the fog, but even by midday overcast skies still loomed high. That didn't stop our crew from being outside. The house went their separate ways and got in some tennis, yoga on the beach, SUPing, and of course more surfing. Finally in the early afternoon, as if someone took and rag and wiped away fog from over our heads, sunny blue skies shone bright across the ocean. Suddenly, you could actually see the surfers scattered in the waves. We witnessed some very impressive rides, including the hugely-talented Montauk native, Quincy Davis.

The fog finally clearing down at Ditch Plains.

Professional surfer, and Montauk native, Quincy Davis shredding the waves at Ditch Plains beach.

Back at the house before dinner, we threw down some serious yard games, including a vengeful game of croquet and some intense Polish horseshoes. Shit got real. Before you knew it we were back en route to The Surf Lodge, except this time with a dinner reservation for nine. The weather couldn’t have been more opposite than the night before. With clear skies and a slight breeze just enough to keep you cool, but not cold, we were seated a table outside overlooking Fort Pond. A picturesque site to be seen, nine rum-filled coconuts clinking cheers over lobster rolls and fish dishes galore.

Outdoor space full of life on a Saturday afternoon at The Surf Lodge, Montauk, NY.

The evening rolled on as we carried out onto the grand patio and we randomly bumped into professional surfer Luke Davis. We discovered he was there for work, and it was actually his first time out here. I then quickly realized how cool the night was about to get. The incredibly talented Brooklyn-based band, Avan Lava, kept the crowd bumping into the night as the sun set over the pond. We caught up with them after their set, so stay tuned later this summer for an exclusive interview when the pop sensations sits down with Scrimshaw Collective!

The electric Brooklyn-based Avan Lava, tearing it down as the sun sets at The Surf Lodge.

All of sudden, having danced our faces off, I was back on the train (unfortunately rather early) the next morning to make it back into the city for another event. As I sat on the top of a double-decker car, I realized I could get used to being out there - not just for a weekend, but any time during the year. Montauk is a very special place if you get the chance for a quick (or ideally long) trip out there, take it, and enjoy!

Leaving from the Montauk LIRR station, heading west back to the City.

Bermuda: Swizzle In and Swagger Out

July 1, 2015 Scrimshaw Collective

You cannot resist the wanderlust when in Bermuda. From exploring the depths of the clear blue ocean to mountain biking the path less traveled, Bermuda has much to offer the explorer within you. Before you leave this paradise, make sure to ask the locals where you can Swizzle In and Swagger Out. You can thank us later.