Off-cape, off-season

Leaving behind a few inches of snow in the Berkshires, we headed for Cape Cod on Palm Sunday.  En route on I-90 we made three stops: 1) Table and Vine, a massive collection of wines, beers, and liquors from all over the world; 2) REI, the sporting goods store where Russ used a gift card to buy a heart rate monitor; and 3) WPI, to check in on how our nephew Zach is doing in his first year of college.  Just after sunset we drove over the Cape Cod Canal to Brother Steve’s house in Bourne. 

Our primary purpose in going was not only to spend time at the Cape which is nice not only in-season but off season as well, but also to help out with a few projects.  An earlier winter storm had brought down several tree limbs and branches, so I started around the yard to pick them up.  Raking is still difficult as my left shoulder is still sore and I should probably have it checked out.  Russ worked inside on a number of projects in the laundry room downstairs. 

We took little breaks to enjoy the warmer outside temperatures, and ventured south into Falmouth on a shopping trip.  While standing in line at the lumber store, we heard quite a lot of Portuguese which got us thinking about exploring the communities off of the Cape. 

Before the Canal was dug and the Bourne and Sagamore Bridges were built, the Cape was a peninsula, but now the man-made waterway connecting the ocean with the Bay acts as a boundary.  During the hectic summer months, making trips back and forth over the bridge would be a ludicrous suggestion.  Typically it seems, when one is one the Cape, one stays on the Cape, but this past week we decided to head back onto the mainland.

We first set about exploring the other half of Bourne, on the mainland side.  While there were busy strip malls to navigate, there were also charming nurseries, storefronts, and cafes.  We walked along Onset Beach one day when the temperature neared fifty degrees.  The sun was shining from beneath the billowing white clouds, and the calm sea reflected the sky above. It looked just like other parts of the Cape, with architecture particular to this part of the country, narrow clean beaches, and sandy marshes.  Yet it must not nearly get the foot and car traffic for which Cape Cod is infamous for the simple reason that it is “off-Cape”.

While in Onset we bought a bag of bolos levedos, the Portuguese muffins that we indulge in every time we come down here.  With a smear of cream cheese and strawberry jam, it is infinitely better than the tastiest jelly doughnut.  We also found salted codfish and kale chorizo soup, again bringing the conversation around to visiting New Bedford, thirty miles to the west.

New Bedford is a fabled city of maritime lore, the setting for Moby Dick, which during the nineteenth century was the whaling capitol of the world.  It was one of the most prosperous cities in the country, as hundreds of whaling boats spent years abroad loading their ships with whale oil before bringing it home “to light the world”.  After the industry became a product of its own success - basically killing off huge populations of sperm and right whales everywhere on the planet - it turned to textile manufacturing.  Eventually it became a center for commercial fishing but those reserves were exhausted too.  Anyone in New England for the past sixty years would say that the city had gone way past its prime; in fact it had slid treacherously downhill.

Russ remembered taking his sister Sue to an art college there in the late seventies and thinking it was a dumpy, scary place.  What a difference thirty years makes.  The city is getting back on track, going through a major overhaul with the historic downtown area recently being designated a National Park.  The Visitors’ Center was our first stop when we arrived and after getting a good introduction to the town, we watched a film on the whaling history. 

Not only was it a commercial hub, but the city was one of the most diverse in the country.  There were, and still are, strong Portuguese, Cape Verdean, and African-American neighborhoods.  These were people who formed the backbone of the whaling industry, where wages were paid not on the basis of race or ethnicity but on skill.  The Quakers had a formidable presence and their openness to women’s rights and the anti-slavery movement was way ahead of its time. 

We peeked in the windows of the Seaman’s Bethel Church and poked our heads in the Whaling Museum to catch a glimpse at the skeleton of one very large sea mammal hanging from the ceiling.  How it was harpooned by one man in a small boat rowed by five other sailors is astonishing.  Before the art museum was built, all of the sculptures and paintings donated by the town’s wealthy families were housed on the third floor in the library, where several paintings remain on display, namely three large Albert Bierstadts, one of my favorite Hudson River School painters.

Food drives most of our sightseeing and we headed away from the historic district to the South End, where we found Churroscaria Novo Mundo.  A true hole-in-the-wall, this tiny establishment seem to feature locals who all knew each other as they conversed in Portuguese and the heavily-accented English for which southeast Massachusetts is known.  We have enjoyed Portuguese food since living in Namibia (which also boasts famous coldwater fishing grounds); however, our healthy heart diet has moved past traditionally pounded flank steaks topped with ham and fried eggs.  I still love lincuica and chorizo but also passed on those instead opting for a fish sandwich, while Russ chose Mozambican roasted chicken and rice.  Both were delicious and topped with lots of fiery peri-peri sauce. 

We walked into a bakery and a corner grocery store which featured beautiful chickens, pork products, and delicate pastries.  From our tv pal Anthony Bourdain we learned many years ago that New Bedford is more Azorean than Portuguese, which is a fact to file away since I have never been to either place.  But in talking to people we met, they are quite territorial; they proudly claim to be distinctly Azorean in decent rather than Portuguese.  In reality, New Bedford and nearby Fall River are often called extensions of the Azores, hosting the largest population outside of that country.

Great finds!  We were happy to learn and see something new.  Even with our projects, it is delightful to be here in the off-season.  It does feel like a little more like spring here, and that should help to buoy our spirits as we move through the next six weeks of chilling weather as the Berkshires struggle to emerge from winter.