Today’s forecast is less than idyllic. Plans are for breakfast or lunch at a farm to table restaurant in Plymouth and then a quick trip to the lower Cape to peruse an Italian specialty market. However, plans do go awry, and flexibility is my middle name.

Sesuit Harbor Café

Breakfast is out. Lunch is in. The specialty shop is closed on Monday’s, but there is a seafood shack near Dennis where I want to sit and be; even if the wind blows and the skies are gray. All it took was reading these words to draw me forward:

This is the Cape Cod you won’t find on the highway: an idyllic shack tucked into Sesuit Harbor serving freshly caught seafood at picnic tables smack on the water. The scrumptious lobster rolls, like everything else, taste like they just crawled onto your plate…

It is their last day of the season, they close at 2 pm, so it is now or never. And I never say never.

Forgetting it is Columbus Day the ordinary Sunday traffic leaving the Cape, is now Monday Holiday traffic doing the same, and it goes on for miles and miles and miles and miles.  Michael looks at me and says, “This may not be the best idea…”

But we are here and forge ahead. Once off the main highway into Provincetown the traffic dies and very few of the outdoor picnic tables at the Sesuit Harbor Café are occupied.

Lunch by the Sea

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We find the door to the interior of this scruffy, and apparently well-loved seafood shack, place our order for our $60 lunch which includes two cold bottles of tea, and return to the outdoor eating area. Finding a table next to the water, I wrap my scarf around my neck tighter, and we wait for our food to be delivered, our backs to the wind.

Yes, it is cloudy. It is cold. It is windy. We are living in a watery, windy, slate-blue world. The day is perfect for where we sit and look and watch the birds and the boats. The seagulls seem happy too.

When our food is delivered, my first thought is—we should have shared.  Each of us have enough food on our plates to feed two people for a week. This is obviously more than any one person can eat at one sitting. Piping hot, and perfectly fried to a golden-brown crispiness, we attack the combination seafood platters before us. There are half a dozen giant scallops on this plate—some at least 2 inches in diameter. A meal all by itself. Too soon it seems, I give up, leaving over two-thirds of the crunchy goodness uneaten. 🙁

Highland Lighthouse

Back on the highway traffic heading across the bridge to the mainland is still miles long. Michael points our nose toward Provincetown, trying to kill time till the traffic abates. There is a sign to a lighthouse. We make a detour. The wind is dying, and fog is rolling in as we climb out of the car, and then begin our walk uphill to the Highland Lighthouse complex in Truro.

This lighthouse is affectionately known as THE Cape Cod lighthouse and is the only one open to the public. We walk into the visitor center and sit watching an introductory film at what today would be considered a very small screen. The first lighthouse on Cape Cod, commissioned by President George Washington in 1797, is an example of erosion in action; the original 10-acre site has only four acres remaining.  Michael decides to walk to the top. I opt to stay in the visitor center, sitting and waiting, even if it is only 69 steps I need to climb.  I did that three times a day when in Italy, so I’m perfectly capable, but still I sit.

When Michael returns from his circular climb he tells me the only thing he could see was fog. Walking back toward our car we stop off at the museum across from the parking lot, and discover it is closed for the season. We continue our journey toward Provincetown.

The drive home is a breeze. Michael’s decision to prolong the day on the Cape was a good one, even though I may never get to explore the Italian market. That does disappoint me.