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It was an early evening in late October and I was up to my knees in the cold, choppy ocean. Pearson and I were trying in vain to skip stones across the waves. Eventually we gave up and began throwing larger rocks into the water. My jeans, rolled mid calf and soaked to the knees, were now being splashed to mid thigh by the surf. It had been a bright and warm afternoon, but the temperatures were falling with the sun and the wind was picking up. It was 2002 and my first visit to Cape Cod.
Before that trip, my only knowledge of Cape Cod came from Pearson’s stories and photographs of Augusts spent on the Cape. Swimming at Wiley Park, bike rides, and walking far out into Cape Cod Bay as the tide receded. In October 2002, I was excited to finally venture to this place where Pearson and his family shared so many memories. We were staying with his family in the same house they used to rent every summer. But that Cape Cod—heat and crowds—was not the Cape I met when I arrived for a long weekend. Instead, the Cape I was introduced to was peaceful, calm, and serene. Warm afternoons and crisp evenings. Long walks along desolate beaches.
In October of 2008 Pearson and Pete rode their bikes into the ocean at Marconi Beach, ending their cross country bike ride where Pearson and I had tossed stones six years earlier.
Nearly six years after that, Pearson and I were back on the Cape in May, watching the sun set over the Bay, on what would have been his mom’s 70th birthday.
I’ve still never been on the Cape at the height of summer, but I don’t think I’m missing out. Even if it’s too cold to swim, I much prefer the quiet, empty beaches of May and October. I’ll take the serenity over the bustle every time. (And a bonus: the prices are lower.)
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