Swan Song: Part I

"Where's your other half?" the postal clerk asked me yesterday. Wow, I thought, somewhat taken aback, he actually recognizes me. Wouldn't you know, just as we're about to leave, we've become "locals."

Having been cleared for take-off by all institutions concerned, we're closing on our new apartment in Brooklyn this week and, in all probability, this will be my last post.

Westward ho

I haven't had the opportunity to live on the East End since I was a teenager. We relocated when I was thirteen and I vividly remember sitting at the kitchen table in our house in Huntington as my parents broke the news that we were moving to Montauk to open a motel. Just what every 7th grader wants to hear.

"Where are you taking us?" I wailed. "It's the end of the world. There are no people out there."

Well, I'm here to tell you it was true then - I graduated Montauk Public School in a class of 10 - and it's true now. Only my perspective has changed.

Montauk in winter is still a small town at the end of the known world - for Long Islanders, in any case - where the deer probably outnumber the residents. It's desolate and isolated.

There is great beauty in that.

I hope you've enjoyed reading about winter in this hamlet as much as I've enjoyed blogging about it. Thanks for sharing it with me.

I was going to end this blog with that ubiquitous "The End" sticker, but somehow, this seems more fitting...

All You Need Is...

Sylvester & Co., Amagansett

HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY!

Louise & Clark, Part III

With the walk-through on our new Brooklyn apartment cancelled yesterday, we opted for the next best thing...the Walking Dunes, one of Montauk's natural wonders.

In a move I can only attribute to cabin fever, we didn't check to see how long the trail, which begins at the end of Neapeague Harbor Road, was before starting out, nor did we, clad in sneakers, anticipate how much snow there would still be on it. Fortunately, as it turns out, the trail is only a mile long, so, somewhat short of frostbite, we completed a loop that began at the harbor, took us through woods, past piping plover sites and a phantom forest, and back to the beach.

You aren't actually allowed to walk on the Walking Dunes - they're too fragile, ecologically speaking - so the trail takes you through woods bordering the dunes and through what once was a forest but has been covered by the dunes in their inexorable stroll southeast. If you're wondering, as I was, why they are so called, it's the strong winter winds that cause the dunes to "walk" about 3 1/2' a year, rather inconsiderately burying everything in their path.

The dunes rise as high as 80' in spots.

You have to take a lot on faith here. Dunes walk. There used to be a forest.

Phantom Menace

Neither snow, nor rain...

What is it they say about the U.S. Postal Service? Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds? Apparently this does not apply to Montauk. Rick just returned from the post office empty-handed. The hamlet's had no mail delivery since Friday.

Maybe they mean snow, rain and gloom of night? In that case, we've just hit the trifecta 'cause we're on rain now.

Never thought I'd say it, but at least the snow was pretty.

This is far from scientific reasoning, but I get the sense that, blizzard or no, things slowly come to a grinding halt out here about now - even the library's given up the ghost and closed for painting - and then, come Valentine's Day, start to percolate again.

In any case, sure could use a good hot cup of coffee about now. 

Finding Nemo

Finding Nemo was not difficult this morning. Dug a path out of the house and made our way to the beach to see the after effects of the storm. That fish was not clowning around. It is beginning to look more like the white cliffs of Dover out here than Montauk.

After last night's white-out....

...our deck this morning

Hard to tell if that's the sun or the polar ice cap out there

My favorite photo, however, is the one a friend sent me this morning under the subject heading: Our backyard after the storm.

They're in Florida.

Lazy, As In Ne'er-Do-Well, Point

"It's called Lazy Point. I've been told the name derives from ne'er-do-well baymen who'd come to squat on worthless land. Whether or not that's true, I don't care; I like the name." 

                                                                                                                              Carl Safina, The View From Lazy Point

Swans on the two-lane road that passes for a "boulevard"  in Lazy Point

I discovered Lazy Point long before I read Safina's book, which is kind of a Walden for the East End. I recommend it. Just don't expect Moby Dick. 

Lazy Point's an idyllic community of summer cottages and beach shacks that has remained somewhat pristine in the face of East End development. If you've ever eaten at the Fish Farm on Cranberry Hole Rd., an actual fish farm, complete with wandering dogs, geese and chickens, you'll know what I mean. From the minute you leave Route 27, cross the railroad tracks and drive past the houses on stilts, through the Neapeague marshes, past osprey nests and egrets...well, to paraphrase Frank Baum: Toto, I don't think we're in the Hamptons anymore.

Over the course of a year spent in Lazy Point and on travels to the four points of the compass, Safina traces the comings and goings of arctic seals, terns, and other migrants. An ecologist and marine conservationist who founded the Blue Ocean Institute, his premise is that "the coast and its migrants bring to Lazy Point a much bigger picture than any map of the place suggests. I sometimes tell friends it's possible to see the whole world in the view from Lazy Point." 

With a H/t to Carl, a few of my favorite views from Lazy Point...

Hicks Island

www.montauk.calm

Calm before the storm... 

Chillin'

Stay tuned.

ATM

Our house is probably the only house in Montauk that overlooks a motel by design.

It sits across the street from the Atlantic Terrace, which my family built and ran for decades. We ate every meal at a breakfast bar that overlooked the ATM, so my father could dash home for lunch, or dinner as the case might be, sit facing the front office, and, if a customer pulled up, run back over to take care of business. This probably accounts for much of the digestive issues he had throughout his life.

I'm sure he thought the view was perfect, and, since the motel's success is the reason I'm sitting here today, within spitting distance of the ocean, far be it from me to complain about it. But I confess I've never thought of the Atlantic Terrace, with its 60's sensibilities, as a thing of beauty. That is, until I awoke just before sunrise today, glanced over at it and was brought up short by the, well, view.

Into the Woods

Not a groundhog, but I want to go on record...

All for an early spring. Especially given the way winter's been of late...

This winter has given new meaning to the phrase white, sandy beach

Despite the freezing temps this weekend, however, our friends Robin and Bob wanted to hike out to see seals. We were game, but told them not to expect anything other than some good exercise. We had yet to see seals at Seal Haulout and the timing was off, given that low tide wasn't until 5:30 p.m. Naturally, it was a veritable Sea World when we arrived. Every variety. Ring, Harbor, Spotted. Just sunning themselves on the rocks.

Ok, I know, National Geographic will not be calling anytime soon.

You can get to Seal Haulout on the beach, but we opted for the woods, figuring they'd provide a little more shelter from the elements.

Into the woods

Where was that last trail marker?

You'll have to take my word for it, but the seals hang out on those rocks in the background.

The deer, including this beautiful buck and his family, were out in full force when we headed back into town at dusk. 

Off to mingle with the herd at a mall UpIsland today.

Wet, Wild & Endeering

My weather app said 47 degrees this morning. Good day to walk, surely.

I hadn't counted on wind with gusts so strong, you could lean back into them without fear of falling. And the ocean, well, it had worked itself up into a veritable frenzy.

Wet and wild

Since it definitely wasn't a beach day, I went into town to do some errands. Checked out Montauk Printing for Valentine cards. Not yet, the clerk told me. Not yet? Valentine's Day is two weeks away. Nope. In Montauk, it's still Christmas. Only White's, its window a sea of red hearts, seems to be getting in the spirit.

And speaking of those near and dear, drive through town at dusk and, chances are, you're going to see the four-legged variety. Deer hang out on the village greens and saunter across the highway. Bold as brass. Yet you rarely see them during the day. How come? I ask my husband, who watches every nature show known to man. Dawn and dusk, he says with authority. Apparently, they leave their beds around dawn and move to feeding areas, returning to their beds at dusk. I'm telling you, between the deer, the pig and the seals out here, it's like the San Diego Zoo.

Holding Down the Fort

As large as Montauk looms in the tourist industry on Long Island, physically, it's a small town at just under 20 square miles, of which 2.3 are water. Fort Pond, in the center of town, is a 192-acre freshwater pond, remarkable in that it lies between two bodies of salt water. And while you're not likely to pull a 25 lb bluefish out of its waters, Fort Pond is apparently a treasure trove of gamefish like smallmouth bass and walleye that anglers seldom find on Long Island. As well as yellow perch, white perch, brown bullhead, common carp and bluegill.

The DEC keeps a close eye on goings on in the pond, which they have stocked with walleye, since 1997, as a tactic to reduce an overabundant perch population. To keep the marine environment in balance, they strictly regulate the length of the fish you can take out of the pond, as well as those caught in saltwater, as my husband will attest, having been stopped and boarded more than once by the DEC and East Hampton Marine Patrol, while fishing with our cousin, Mitch, on his family's boat, the El Sid. Last summer, the agents, armed with tape measures to make sure no fish was short of the proscribed length, happened to be young and female, a fact which led the menfolk - who had perhaps been in the sun too long - to speculate that the boarding was less about picking out short fish than picking them up.

In any case, this was the view of Fort Pond this week. To paraphrase Gershwin: Fish were not jumpin'.

Iceskaters maybe; fishermen, no. 

Whiteout

Frozen or not, however, there's clearly no fort in Montauk. So I was wondering: How did Fort Pond gets its name? Apparently, it harkens back to 1661, when the Montauk Indians built a fortress on a hill overlooking the pond, in response to a bloody massacre that ensued when Narragansetts from across Block Island Sound attacked the Montauks during a wedding celebration. (By the same token, this would also explain Fort Pond Road, Fort Hill Cemetery, etc.)

Today, it is the Montauk Manor that holds the high ground. And, presumably, it's doing a good job of protecting the tourists, since there hasn't been an Indian attack in years.

The Montauk Manor: Holding the high ground for the tourists

Good day for a wedding; no Narragansetts in sight

End of the Line

Make that the dead end of the line

On summer weekends, the LIRR ramps up the number of trains and the AC. There's a Cannonball express from Hunter's Point on Fridays and the yard is filled with passenger trains that terminate - of necessity - at Montauk. It is the end of the line, or, as the sign at the terminus aptly points out, the dead end of the line. Needless to say, it's not quite the same scene in January, but it does make for some interesting shots.

While not a railroad aficionado, I was curious to know when the LIRR arrived in Montauk. That would be 1895. Then it was demolished in 1907, rebuilt in 1927 and relocated by the US Navy during WW II, along with a lot of Montauk. The platform from the old station, which is now the Depot Art Gallery, leads to the current station.

Film buffs: Montauk Station was one of the settings for the 2004 movie, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, starring Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet. 

I had no idea so many people take videos of train footage. For those of you longing for that summer ride to the end of the line, enjoy...