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...

Field Trip: Home Brew

I've dragged Rick to a fair share of wine tastings this winter, so it seemed only right that we give equal time to beer, especially since a brewing company opened five minutes from our house last summer. Not only is The Montauk Brewing Co., located in a distinctive red barn across from Lions Field and next door to St. Peter's Catch, the only one in the hamlet, it's one of only twelve on Long Island.

Checking out what's brewing in the little red barn on South Erie

Joe Sullivan, the founder and brewer, was manning the tasting room the day we stopped by. He and his two partners, Eric Moss and Vaughn Cutillo, are as homegrown as the beer they craft. East Enders all, they currently have their beer produced upstate, but, buoyed by a successful summer, have applied for permits to produce it locally, better "Sharing the true spirit of Montauk through good beer," as their tagline says. You can't buy the brew house's beers by the bottle, but it is currently on tap at Harvest and The Point and at fifteen or more local bars and restaurants in season. If all you want is a taste ($8), they're open Saturdays and Sundays this winter from noon - 5 p.m. Or you can take home a growler ($22).

We sampled four brews: their aptly named flagship beer, Driftwood Ale (an American E.S.B.), East Bound Brown (a brown ale, which probably goes without saying), Scottish Ale and IPA, which I understood Joe to say was Indian Pale Ale. Well, I thought, that dovetails nicely with Montauk's Native American history and the brewery's distinctive arrow head logo. Turns out it stands for India Pale Ale, which shows you how much I know about beer. I was basically along for the photo op, but happily discovered the tasting room also features the works of local artists on its walls. A nice touch.

Joe Sullivan, founder/brewer, with Rick, yours truly & brother-in-law Bill

Second from the left is the one to look for next time you're at The Point

You can't buy Driftwood Ale by the bottle, but you can take home

 a growler, which, when empty, makes a great vase. Just sayin.

What's on tap

If you go, be sure to sign the Guest Book 

Snap! It's Cold

Truth be told, it's 25 degrees right now, a far cry from the single digits of earlier in the week. But this was the scene at Duryea's dock yesterday.

Duryea's dock

I was going to say it's not fit for man or beast, however, it is apparently fit for men in wet-suits, as these intrepid guys, surfing the waters near the lighthouse, illustrate.

Yup, surf's up.

Gives new meaning to the phrase white, sandy beach

2772

As you might have guessed by my postings, I have a new appreciation for the role of the post office in rural life. I can understand why small communities go apoplectic at the mere suggestion that the U.S. Postal Service might close their branch. When the agency floated the idea that it would close as many as 3,700 post offices last May, there was such a hue and cry, they backed off that plan and instead came up with one that would keep post offices in rural areas open by reducing full-time staff and hours. "We've listened to our customers in rural America and we've heard them loud and clear," the Postmaster General said.

So, at the risk of seeming obsessed with the Montauk Post Office...

This afternoon, I removed the mail from my post office box and, since there was a slip indicating a package,  got on line. Things reach a fever pitch at the post office around one - by which time the mail is supposed to be distributed, but don't count on it - so there were about six people ahead of me.  I settled in for a wait, having learned early on this winter not to go to the Post Office if I'm in a hurry. It's like Mayberry, RFD. The postal clerks know everyone and, consequently, every transaction comes with a conversation. Not that I can think of a reason I would be in a hurry. Rushing over to the beach before all the shells are gone? Beating it up to the Point to watch the beacon complete it's 5-second loop? (I take that back. Even in the dead of winter, you still have to hotfoot it over to Harvest by 5:30 if you want to get a seat at the bar.)

"Yellow slip, what's your number?"

"Yellow slip, what's your number?"

Engrossed as I was in the latest Facebook postings, it took a minute before I realized the postal clerk was addressing me. Of course it could also be that I'm unaccustomed to being called by the color of a piece of paper I'm holding in my hand. She was signalling, in Montauk parlance, that if I would impart my post office box number, she would get my package.

But, I thought to myself, isn't this cutting the line? I looked around to gauge the mood of the crowd. "2772," I said, reduced to shouting, since I was at the back of the line. She produced the package and I somewhat sheepishly skulked off. As far as I could tell, no one seemed to think I'd committed a capital offense.

Comings & goings at the Mtk Post Office 

In a somewhat related development, earlier this winter the community was up in arms when, without warning, FedEx removed the hamlet's one-and-only drop box. "Whoa, FedEx Box Vanishes" read the headline in the East Hampton Star.

"Convenience is still around the corner," FedEx said in an email to residents and local businesses. Yes, if convenient can be defined as a 12-mile ride to Amagansett, the next closest box.

Apparently, there was a glitch in the contract that allowed FedEx drop boxes to be on government property. Quite the brouhaha ensued and, this week, the box is back, in front of Duryea's on Tuthill Road, which is somehow appropriate given that the hamlet's post office is named for Chip Duryea's dad, Perry B. Duryea, Jr.

Power to the people.

Here today, gone yesterday

For the Birds...

This weather is for the birds. Seven degrees? Really?

It doesn't seem to affect the seagulls, however. They remain vigilant on their perches on rooftops all over town. Which leads me to wonder: What makes clinging to the pinnacle of a roof so attractive anyway?

Unlike the famous fiddler who balanced precariously on the roof in his small town of Anatevka, birds gather on rooftops for a number of reasons, none of which have anything to do with tradition.

Safety is paramount, so they pick high, convenient places where they are least in danger from predators. Power lines serve that purpose best, but even though rooftops are a riskier alternative, the gulls in Montauk seem to prefer them. Or, perhaps, when a business has named itself after your inclination to sit on top of its building, they just feel obligated.

According to my modest amount of research, in addition to finding safe harbor, the gulls also gather to check out food sources, socialize and groom one another. In other words, they're pretty much like us, getting together to gossip, find good places to eat and watch out for one another.

At Gosman's...a little off-we-go-into-the-wild-blue-yonder...

...before returning to the perch

So, if part of the reason they're perched up there is to swap news and catch up on neighborhood gossip, why, I wondered, do they all face the same direction, which would seem counter-intuitive to an exchange of views? Scientists believe it's all about the direction of the wind, since birds have an easier time taking off and landing when facing into the wind. Plus, they say, any other direction would ruffle their feathers.

Well, that would explain it. No one likes to have their feathers ruffled.

What happens when birds can't read.

A loner

Cotton Candy

Whenever I see a beautiful landscape photo, I'm always reminded of a comment my cousin, Cheryl, a much more accomplished photographer than me, made as I was exclaiming over some of her work. "Well, it doesn't come out of the camera that way," she laughed.

I'm a big fan of using photo editing software to bring out the best in a picture too. But, tonight, as I made my way to the beach to join a flock of people gawking in awe at the pink, cotton candy sky that was hanging over Montauk at sunset, it came out of the camera. Just. That. Way.

What's wrong with this picture?

It doesn't snow often in Montauk. Or for that matter, anywhere near the ocean. Something about the ocean being warmer than the land during the winter months, causing most of the snow to melt. Montauk is, in fact, known for being "ten degrees cooler in the summer; ten degrees warmer in the winter."

Having said all that, this is what Surfside Avenue looked like this morning.

Nippy.

Hoodoos, Goblins & Conspiracy Theories

At the risk of sounding like Chicken Little, the cliffs are falling, the cliffs are falling. On a walk toward Ditch Plain yesterday afternoon, it was frightening to see how much the cliffs have eroded as a result of the winter storms.

Speaking of eroded bluffs...
Hoodoos, which are also called Goblins, are the most spectacular displays of erosion, and although they're primarily associated with the west - Bryce Canyon, e.g. - Montauk has its fair share and its eroded bluffs create a fantastically rugged coastline.

Hoodoos seen from Camp Hero State Park...

...and along the ocean, heading  east...

...to Ditch Plain

Since I was in Camp Hero State Park photographing the Goblins, it seemed like an appropriate time to detour over to the intersection of Montauk and Twilight Zone. That is, the huge AN/FPS-35 radar dish that is the centerpiece of Camp Hero and of the Montauk Project conspiracy, a government project that allegedly researched the possibilities of mind control and time travel. It was looking appropriately eerie at sunset. 

The conspiracy theories started in the 1980's when the Camp was abandoned after a so-called “incident” that left USAF soldiers wounded. Some suggest that research was never abandoned and deep down in the tunnels of Camp Hero the experiments still continue.

I cannot speak to the veracity of any of that, but when I realized I was the last one in the park and daylight was fading, I did hightail it out of there. 

MLK & MTK

Flags fly and the frost is on the pumpkin...or, as the case may be, the skate egg sac...

30 degrees...

My Friend Eileen

Apparently, I've made the East End in winter seem so appealing in these blog posts, a lot of my friends want to visit. So, if I've romanticized it a bit, let me just clarify: People, the largest gathering of homo sapiens you will see here on any given day is at the Post Office.

The Post Office: Montauk's hub

In any case, my friend Eileen arrived for a visit Friday, and, clearly, she'd been following the blog. "I want to get a photo of one of those sunsets," she said. "From the beach."

Since Eileen's an artist, we started with the new Parrish Art Museum, a place I was more than happy to revisit, since the first time I was there was with Rick, a guy who can do the entire Metropolitan Museum of Art in the time it takes me to do its American Wing. And, while he always tells me to "take my time," well, you get the picture. No pun intended.

I love the Parrish' collection of East End landscape painters, which makes up a large part of their permanent collection, and includes these oils of an East Hampton farm and Calverton.

East Hampton farm

Calverton

Lest anyone wonder why the East End light has inspired so many artists, roll past the Montauk Light just before sunset, as we did Friday.

Light washes the Montauk Light & its out buildings... 

...in shades of Edward Hopper just prior to sunset

I won't bore you with the other details of the day - except to say there was a fair amount of shopping and eating. Just a couple of comments on Bridgehampton's new Tom Collichio restaurant, Topping Rose House, where we had brunch to celebrate a milestone birthday. Food: 10. Two mains, one side, one dessert: $90. And the only libation on the table was coffee.

A break in the action at Wolffer 

As ordered, a memorable sunset. From the beach.

Great ball of fire

Offline...

Taking a break this weekend so that Apple can transfer everything on my PC to my new laptop.

From the booming metropolis of Montauk, see you next week!

High noon in the hamlet