Our Multi-Fork East End Getaway...
People who know me know that I have a special visceral hatred for Long Island. But I've learned over time that this hatred barely extends beyond the borders of Nassau County (it does extend a tad, being as Screwy Startup's original office was just over the Suffolk County line in East Farmingdale).
The hatred positively dissipates once you get out into the East End with its quaint farms and quainter villages. Even the opulen Hamptons have their charms when you approach 'em as a bemused tourist.
All this plus a recession-minded stinginess led teratologist and I to spend our 10th anniversary armed only with a pair of bikes, an LIRR permit, and Valentine's Day reservations at a converted motor lodge cum French bistro in the North Fork. Here follows some of the photographic highlights.
The LIRR line to Greenport is even more obscure than the one that services Montauk. Where the latter has connections from Jamaica every two hours on most weekends, you only get one shot each day at Greenport on a comically short double-decker train that you have to go to Ronkonkoma to catch. On the plus side, it's usually pretty empty.
No sooner do we arrive in Greenport on Valentine's Day afternoon than we're treated to an endless President's Day parade.
The bagpipes and drums were fun, but got a bit tedious when the marchers decamped afterwards into the town's only pub and began to jam patriotic and Irish (and patriotic Irish) anthemns for another hour. We decided to spend the rest of the afternoon riding out to Orient Point to work up an appetite for dinner.
Greenport, like its South Fork counterpart Montauk (of which more later), is actually 9 miles from the actual point of the North Fork. Even after you reach the end of Route 25 which segues into the launch for the Orient Point Ferry to Connecticut, you're still a mile from the "real" point.
The powers that be don't seem to be too keen on easy access to "Orient Point State Park".
Not that it ever stops me, of course.
Stick it out far enough, and you're rewarded with a beautiful pebble beach tapering into an actual "point" with merging waves. We had it all to ourselves just as the sun was getting fat and orange.
Then it was time for a grueling 9 miles back to Greenport with a nasty headwind and temperatures plummeting from the already sketchy 39 degrees. By the time we made it back into town, my fingers were numb.
I needed some of these...
...and this. Special mention must go to the Greenporter, where we were staying. We got two nights over the weekend in the whimsically converted motel plus 5 course Valentine's Day price fixe inclusive for just over $300.
Then it was time to put our bikes to sleep and consider getting some shut-eye ourselves.
Sunday morning. While teratologist stayed in town to birdwatch and bookhunt, I decided to head West into Mattituck in search of a replacement bicycle pump in case we had a flat tire. It turns out Matttituck's bicycle shop (which is the only bicycle shop in the entire North Fork) is closed on Sundays during the winter. The hazards of offseason vacationing, more than offset by the sparsity of tourists.
Having ridden a good 12 miles out for naught, I took in brunch at a charming cafe by the rail station before heading back. Having passed a ton of vineyards on the way out, I decided to have an impromptu winery hop on two wheels.
It being a 3-day weekend, plenty of others had the same idea. But they were less well armed than me -- I had the foresight to grab fancy cheese and crackers at a shop in Mattituck. Most North Fork wineries don't provide their own snacks, which is silly since they are charging for the tastings and could probably sell more by getting people thirsty all over again.
One of the hazards of riding a bicycle out to wineries (besides the obvious), is the lack of thoughtful accommodations for those of us who would rather operate a 20 lb vehicle while slightly impaired post-taste rather than a 2 ton vehicle. Sometimes you gotta just improvise.
My first ever U-lock tethering to a grapevine. It just seems so ... apropos.
In the end, I hit Pellegrini, Bedell, Raphael, and Duck Walk.
I did make it back safely, in time for another beautiful sunset over the wharves of Greenport. We proceeded to have a nice night on the town hitting a Texas BBQ joint (?!?) and hopping the only 2.5 bars that were actually open before retiring early for the final adventure of the weekend.
Monday Morning. Having exhausted the North Fork, it was time to do a full-on "Fork-to-Fork" ride and make Montauk by evening. Our strategy was to use the Shelter Island ferries to take us down to Sag Harbor.
When it came time for a picnic breakfast at the South Ferry docks, I realized I had forgotten a pocketknife. Again, sometimes you gotta just improvise.
Mission accomplished, we were now on the South Fork and heading for Easthampton.
Whereupon we hit Rowdy Hall for some necessary fuel.
Including probably the best croque-monsieur I've ever had.
Being out in the Hamptons now meant the inevitable house-sighting as we made our way further East. I think this sign pretty much says it all about our place in this world.
As we got closer to Montauk, the hills start getting steeper, and the roads less generous with bikeable shoulders.
...but we made it in the end.
This dude was happy to see us, at least.
Even during the peak season Montauk is hardly known for its charming restaurants and bars. So we did our brief tour of the landmarks, had a round at the station pub, and watched our final sunset as the train back to NYC (well, Jamaica anyway) pulled in.
All in all, a fun way to spend a 3-day weekend without leaving the state.
The hatred positively dissipates once you get out into the East End with its quaint farms and quainter villages. Even the opulen Hamptons have their charms when you approach 'em as a bemused tourist.
All this plus a recession-minded stinginess led teratologist and I to spend our 10th anniversary armed only with a pair of bikes, an LIRR permit, and Valentine's Day reservations at a converted motor lodge cum French bistro in the North Fork. Here follows some of the photographic highlights.
The LIRR line to Greenport is even more obscure than the one that services Montauk. Where the latter has connections from Jamaica every two hours on most weekends, you only get one shot each day at Greenport on a comically short double-decker train that you have to go to Ronkonkoma to catch. On the plus side, it's usually pretty empty.
No sooner do we arrive in Greenport on Valentine's Day afternoon than we're treated to an endless President's Day parade.
The bagpipes and drums were fun, but got a bit tedious when the marchers decamped afterwards into the town's only pub and began to jam patriotic and Irish (and patriotic Irish) anthemns for another hour. We decided to spend the rest of the afternoon riding out to Orient Point to work up an appetite for dinner.
Greenport, like its South Fork counterpart Montauk (of which more later), is actually 9 miles from the actual point of the North Fork. Even after you reach the end of Route 25 which segues into the launch for the Orient Point Ferry to Connecticut, you're still a mile from the "real" point.
The powers that be don't seem to be too keen on easy access to "Orient Point State Park".
Not that it ever stops me, of course.
Stick it out far enough, and you're rewarded with a beautiful pebble beach tapering into an actual "point" with merging waves. We had it all to ourselves just as the sun was getting fat and orange.
Then it was time for a grueling 9 miles back to Greenport with a nasty headwind and temperatures plummeting from the already sketchy 39 degrees. By the time we made it back into town, my fingers were numb.
I needed some of these...
...and this. Special mention must go to the Greenporter, where we were staying. We got two nights over the weekend in the whimsically converted motel plus 5 course Valentine's Day price fixe inclusive for just over $300.
Then it was time to put our bikes to sleep and consider getting some shut-eye ourselves.
Sunday morning. While teratologist stayed in town to birdwatch and bookhunt, I decided to head West into Mattituck in search of a replacement bicycle pump in case we had a flat tire. It turns out Matttituck's bicycle shop (which is the only bicycle shop in the entire North Fork) is closed on Sundays during the winter. The hazards of offseason vacationing, more than offset by the sparsity of tourists.
Having ridden a good 12 miles out for naught, I took in brunch at a charming cafe by the rail station before heading back. Having passed a ton of vineyards on the way out, I decided to have an impromptu winery hop on two wheels.
It being a 3-day weekend, plenty of others had the same idea. But they were less well armed than me -- I had the foresight to grab fancy cheese and crackers at a shop in Mattituck. Most North Fork wineries don't provide their own snacks, which is silly since they are charging for the tastings and could probably sell more by getting people thirsty all over again.
One of the hazards of riding a bicycle out to wineries (besides the obvious), is the lack of thoughtful accommodations for those of us who would rather operate a 20 lb vehicle while slightly impaired post-taste rather than a 2 ton vehicle. Sometimes you gotta just improvise.
My first ever U-lock tethering to a grapevine. It just seems so ... apropos.
In the end, I hit Pellegrini, Bedell, Raphael, and Duck Walk.
I did make it back safely, in time for another beautiful sunset over the wharves of Greenport. We proceeded to have a nice night on the town hitting a Texas BBQ joint (?!?) and hopping the only 2.5 bars that were actually open before retiring early for the final adventure of the weekend.
Monday Morning. Having exhausted the North Fork, it was time to do a full-on "Fork-to-Fork" ride and make Montauk by evening. Our strategy was to use the Shelter Island ferries to take us down to Sag Harbor.
When it came time for a picnic breakfast at the South Ferry docks, I realized I had forgotten a pocketknife. Again, sometimes you gotta just improvise.
Mission accomplished, we were now on the South Fork and heading for Easthampton.
Whereupon we hit Rowdy Hall for some necessary fuel.
Including probably the best croque-monsieur I've ever had.
Being out in the Hamptons now meant the inevitable house-sighting as we made our way further East. I think this sign pretty much says it all about our place in this world.
As we got closer to Montauk, the hills start getting steeper, and the roads less generous with bikeable shoulders.
...but we made it in the end.
This dude was happy to see us, at least.
Even during the peak season Montauk is hardly known for its charming restaurants and bars. So we did our brief tour of the landmarks, had a round at the station pub, and watched our final sunset as the train back to NYC (well, Jamaica anyway) pulled in.
All in all, a fun way to spend a 3-day weekend without leaving the state.