Eating Clams and Crow in Wellfleet

Now that summer is officially into full swing, Bob and I have resumed kayaking. We have the two-person kind. This is good because I sit in the back, where Bob can’t be certain if I’m paddling or not.

Last week, we launched at Wellfleet harbor to head out to beautiful Jeremy Point.

“I’m exhausted,” I said.

“We haven’t even gotten out of the car,” Bob said. “Who takes Dramamine to go kayaking?”

I got in the boat and looked through our guidebook – Adventure Kayaking Trips on Cape Cod. But I was in a crabby mood. “Who does this guy think he is?” I said, referring to the author, David Weintraub. “Hey David,” I yelled out to sea. “I got ‘Most Improved’ in canoeing at summer camp. I don’t need you, you big nerdy guidebook geek know-it-all.”

We paddled past gorgeous old rusty fishing trawlers as we headed out of the harbor. I felt good. It’s nearly impossible to stay in a bad mood in Wellfleet. We put a CD of old-time country music into our waterproof player. Without being aware of it, our paddles began to glide rhythmically to the cadence of the soulful women singing about God and afterlife and forgiveness.

I thought, “I wish something special would happen that I could write about in a column.”

We drifted by towering sand dunes at our private Great Island wilderness. As we approached the shore it happened. In the middle of nowhere, there it was. High up on the face of a dune, written with beach stones and formed into 10 foot tall letters was: “Will You Marry Me, Wit?”

We stopped the kayak, overwhelmed by the magic of the moment, wondering how it must have been when Wit and his or her partner paddled out to this secluded corner of the earth where their lives would be changed forever by this one question.

After gathering oyster shells for a centerpiece, we unpacked our take-out fried clams and had a picnic by the sea.

Then we headed further out toward Jeremy Point. We beached next to another kayak. “Yoohoo, David?” I called out to sea. “You like paddling around in little boats telling people what to do? I can’t see the harbor. Why don’t you tell us how to get back, you big genius smart aleck?”

“That’s what the book is all about!” Bob said. “You probably read it like you read instruction manuals – just the first sentence.”

The fellow whose kayak was next to ours came back. “I hope we didn’t disturb your solitude,” Bob said.

“Oh, no. Not at all.” He was a handsome, tall and slim outdoorsman type in obviously great shape. He had an instantly friendly style. “Where are you two from?” he asked.

“Marstons Mills,” I said. It was surprising meeting someone in this remote wonderland. “And you?”

“Well, my home base is in San Francisco but I summer in Wellfleet. I wrote a book about kayaking on the Cape. My name’s David Weintraub.”

I looked up at him and opened my mouth to speak. “Buh  . . .  book?” I said.

“Why don’t you tell David about the book we’re using?” Bob said, grinning.

“Book  . . .  good.”

Bob got the guidebook. “This is excellent,” he said. “We’d never know all these places to kayak and where to launch. Fantastic job.” He put his arm around my shoulder. “And I know Tarzan here agrees with me.”

And so, in the mellow lavender light of a Wellfleet sunset, our paddles gliding in harmony, we headed back to port. As I listened to the women singing of their longing for heaven, I knew I had mine this moment, when the shadows cast their long fingers of beautiful blackness on Cape Cod Bay as David and Bob and I headed home.