"Going down the shore..." that's what people around here call it when they head to the beach. But when they say it, it sounds more like "dahn the shah," especially if they're from Jersey. That's what we did this weekend, heading for the seaside town of Lewes, Delaware. Lewes (it's basically pronounced like Louis) is much smaller and quieter than most other cities along the Delaware and New Jersey shores, which is why we chose it for our brief getaway.
To get there, we took a New Jersey Transit bus into Cape May, NJ, then a shuttle bus to the Cape May Ferry terminal, rode the ferry across the bay to Lewes, then took another shuttle into town.
After checking in to our bed-and-breakfast early Friday evening, we explored downtown Lewes. It's one of those cute, old towns where many of the buildings are 2-300 years old and bear plaques noting their historical significance. One of our favorite stops was the graveyard on the grounds of the small church in the center of town.
I was struck by the fact that the dates on so many of the gravestones revealed that those buried beneath them were infants less then a few months old. This was true of approximately one in three of the gravestones I saw. Often, they were buried next to their young mothers who had passed away shortly before or after them. There were also, I noticed, entire families who had nearly all died within weeks of each other, often leaving behind a father or an orphaned child as the sole survivor of whatever ended their lives. Cholera? Typhoid?
Next to the graveyard, thare was a stone labrynth that visitors were encouraged to explore.
If you started at the entrance to the labrynth, and followed the pathways that were created by stones, you eventually arrived at this stone cross:
Apparently, people leave behind gifts or baubles of some kind, perhaps tokens of respect or adoration? There were a number of coins and plastic critters, some bottle caps, a few keychains, a flower or two, and quite a few hairbands. I felt like it would be disrespectful not to leave something myself, so I rummaged through my purse to see what I could part with, and found the perfect gift: a SEPTA token, good for one ride on any bus or subway line in Philadelphia.
When I was done, I quit the labrynth by cutting across the stone paths and resting on the bench beneath a tree. However, B insisted that the only proper way to exit the labrynth was to follow the paths in reverse. Backwards. Literally.
We enjoyed dinner that evening at an adorable little resturant called "half-full," where I had what may have been the best-tasting pizza of my life. It was topped with arugala, figs, tiny bits of smoked bacon, blue cheese, and balsamic vinegar. I would like to see if we can imitate this wondrous combination at home. If you ever make it to Lewes, I would definitely suggest enjoying a meal at this place. This dining establishment operates on a brilliant business concept. The entire space that it occupies consists of less than 500 square feet.
I wish I had some good shots of the interior, because it's absolutely adorable. Aside from the excellent beer and wine (no Bud or Coors here, thank you very much), they only sell pizza, and only in one size, a rectangle about the size of a sheet of paper. You place your order and pick up your drinks (served in proper glasses) at a window just inside the door, then they bring your remarkably delectable pizza to your table when it's ready. You stop at the window again to pay your tab on the way out. I wish we had someplace like it in Philly.
We had rented bicycles for the weekend, and we spent much of Saturday on them, much to the chagrin of our very sore bottoms. They were the most uncomfortable bicycle seats either of us had ever encountered. But we couldn't really complain, given the reasonable $14 per day rental fee. They got us where we wanted to go.
So, thanks to the bicycles, we were able to go to the Nassau Valley Vineyards for a tour and tasting. We purchased a few bottles to take home, far fewer than we prefer to purchase when visiting wineries, but it was all we could carry in the backpack. After that, we biked to Rehoboth beach, where we walked around a bit and enjoyed crab quesadillas and some kind of seafood dumplings at a quirky joint called the Purple Parrot. Rehoboth is much bigger than Lewes, and definitely more popular and crowded, so it attracts a distinctly younger and noisier crowd, which made me very glad to have opted for Lewes, where the average visitor seemed closer to my parents' age. Am I sounding a bit old for 28?
Saturday evening, we finally went down to the beach and walked along the shore until it was almost dark out. The beach was only a block from our B&B, but we're not really into sunbathing or frollicking with jellyfish, so we hadn't gone down to it earlier. We put on our swimsuits just in case we wanted to go for a swim, but the shore was littered with countless carcasses of the horseshoe crab variety, so we wimped-out.
This is not something I'd want to accidentally step on while trying to catch some waves. Well, it had cooled down a lot by then, so we would have gotten quite chilly if we had taken a dip, anyhow.
I'm going to assume that these were there as a result of the horseshoe crab's natural life-cycle, as opposed to an ecological distaster. The largest carcass we stumbled upon (almost literally) was as wide as a football helmet.
The carcass I am holding in the "I don't do tans" swimsuit photo is the size of the smallest one in this photo.
I hadn't expected to see a sunset over the ocean, since the sun rises over the ocean on this end of the US, but Lewes is on a sort-of peninsula that juts out into the Atlantic, so we were able to enjoy a sunset of sorts that was almost over the water. The photo that began this post is what we saw.
This big sailboat was surrounded by yellow "police line - do not cross" tape.
We're assuming it washed up on shore, but we know no details about it. It appeared to be in very good condition, other than the rudder that looked like it had cracked as a result of the vessel finding itself beached.
After that, we biked back into town and enjoyed dinner at Azafran, a Spanish tapas restaurant. We splurged and ordered a bottle of wine, a lovely Tempranillo from Spain. The tapas and the wine were excellent, but dessert was defintely the highlight of the meal. I am kicking myself for not having taken a photograph of it, but I found a description of the dish on their website. "Chocolate gustos: fallen souffle, chocolate baklava, chocolate almond fig, black magic truffles, chocolate tostada, gelato, for sharing, $13." All of this was artfully arranged across a platter. The price is now $14, and the tostada has been replaced by pot de chocolat, which I believe makes it all the more worthwhile. It was heavenly. I am sad to say that we were unable to finish all of it, which made me feel as though I was committing a mortal sin, knowing that what was left would be dumped out in the trash.
Sunday was essentially spent as a protracted journey back to Philly. We kept missing the connections we wanted to make, so there was a lot of waiting time in-between - one of the downsides of opting for public transit. We finally asked someone to take a photograph of us during the ferry ride back to Cape May, so we'd have proof that we had in fact done the trip together.
Here is a closeup of the lighthouse that you see in the background, one of many that we saw near the shores.
That's B in the foreground, in case you can't tell. As we approached Cape May, the seagulls that had joined us overhead for much of the journey began collecting like a little army near the stern of the ship.
You can see that the deck was quite soggy, as it had started raining when we departed Lewes, and would continue to do so through the rest of the journey home. Most of the passengers were huddled indoors, except the few damp and chilly folks like us who had opted to brave the weather so that we could sit at the bar, which was on an outdoor deck under an awning that did little to protect us from the elenents. It's all about priorities. These fellows seemed very happy to be out in the rain, though.
The bus ride back from Cape May to Philly, which normally takes 2.5 hours, took almost 4.5 hours due to the rain and a number of fender-benders along the expressway. This bus was not equipped with restroom facilities, but it was equipped with air conditioning that the driver insisted on cranking up to full-blast even though it was 65 degrees ouside due to the unusual weather. Not expecting winter temperatures, I had packed neither a parka nor an afghan. Silly me. No restroom, plus cold, bumpy ride equals… let’s just say I was very happy to arrive in Philadelphia, home-sweet-home for the present.
(photography by the brilliant Gabriel Bienczycki)
