With summer sadly coming to an end, we wanted to do something special for Labor Day Weekend - technically the last beach weekend of the summer. Around the corner kids go back to school, people stop slacking off from work since switching to the 'off' button in late June, and stores start selling their Halloween goods. After a lot of 'on-again-off-again' back and forth, it was decided we would make the long drive to the very end of Long Island and send summer off in style.
We wouldn't be alone; two of her friends were coming with us, but they were actually on the way there so it was rather easy to scoop them up. While they packed their stuff into the car, I saw a dead frog (or toad) was crushed in the middle of the street. I know certain night-creatures such as raccoons, deer, skunks, are frozen by bright car lights and eventually ran over, but I never heard of a frog ending up under a car tire that way too. With the frog's summer officially over, we took to the Long Island Expressway and made the tedious drive to Exit 68, which would lead us to Route 27 East, that goes all the way out to Montauk, passing every ritzy small town beforehand. The time from the Bronx to Exit 68 (including the friend pick-up) was a little under two hours, but once on Route 27, the time from there to where we needed to go was a solid two hours. Most of Route 27 is two lanes under normal circumstances, but naturally on Labor Day Weekend, when there would be a high volume of motorists, the geniuses in charge made sure to schedule road work that closed one lane for a long portion of the route. There's plenty of scenery to soften the blow such as farms, wineries, big houses, boutique shopping centers, but the traffic was bumper to bumper, slow, with only one lane operating; it was rather rough to say the least. Our bellies were growling with hunger, so once we all agreed we needed to eat something and would stop off at the first reasonably-priced looking option, the winner was a Columbian market that sold hot food to go. We grabbed three or four bags of different types of empanadas and one of her friends actually ordered just a piece of chicken, with no rice or side to go along with it, which left the Columbian lady behind the counter quite befuddled.
The actual beach we were heading to was in Hither Hills State Park, that also offers camping grounds, but good luck getting reservations. With Montauk hotel, motel, and rooming prices through the roof, camping is a popular option, but camping veterans that are really into that type of stuff plan it out months and even years ahead. I'm not sure why whoever named the park couldn't find something else to call it that didn't sound like "Hitler". Ordinary visitors such as ourselves are permitted to enjoy the beach, even if we're not actual campers there, all we had to do is pay a parking fee of ten dollars. I saw the camping area with the RV trucks once we entered. The place is equipped with a full bathhouse for changing and showering, plus even a locker rental if you don't trust the other beach-goers. There's also a snack bar to grab some food or even a drink (including alcoholic beverages). Lifeguards are on duty during the day, and there seems to be a very relaxed attitude towards smoking on the beach as I saw several people puffing away without any objections from anyone else. The only thing that seems to be stressed is staying off the dunes, with quite a few of those signs posted.
On my previous trips to Montauk beaches, I always found the waves to be tall and explosive, but for some reason on this occasion the water was mellow. There were some waves to ride in with, but it was not of the usual Montauk caliber. The water temperature was also bone-chilling cold, which shouldn't be as the water usually is near its warmest towards the end of the summer. Nevertheless, after consuming a few more empanadas, I took on the water without any issue. While swimming underneath my vision was darkened by the mucky and murky water color, which was also a rather bit odd. A cool breeze blew in off the water and all the signs were there that the summer was really coming to a close. I got changed once we were done with the beach and before leaving the state park, we made a little detour to the playground next to the parking lot. It's quite an impressive collection of childhood activities: swing sets, slides, rock climbing, poles, lumberjack racing, and sand to fall flat of your face on. We saw a clam bar stand on the side of the road just before we arrived at Hither Hills and planned on having a bite to eat there while heading back home. It's called Clam Bar, and you can either eat at the counter or sit at a table. Cars were parked all over the side off the road as the stand seemed to be very popular. I found it to be somewhat of a tourist trap in terms of the food quality in relation their prices, but it served our purposes well enough. I had a bowl of New England Clam Chowder for six dollars, a dozen littleneck clams for fourteen bucks, and washed it down with a sweat glass of lemonade that ran for two dollars. One of the people that came with us removed her mouth retainer before eating, and later on the waitress came over to clean up around the table as we were getting ready to leave, and picked up the retainer, not knowing it was wrapped in a napkin, and tossed it in the trash. Supposedly without a strong dental plan, those retainers run for a few thousand dollars. The waitress had somewhat of a 'so-what?' response to the mistake, but after some voice-raising she was more motivated to find the correct garbage can and tracked it down in a matter of a minute. We still left her a standard double-the-tax tip.
The final stop on the West version of Route 27 would be the Duck Walk Vineyards at the edge of Wine Country. I first visited it about four years ago and and brought a rose (insert funky accent mark above the 'e') that is difficult to find anywhere else. They have a tasting room that was almost about to close for the day, so we needed to keep our missing-retainer mystery at the Clam Bar as short as possible. The sun was beginning to set when we got there, but there was still thirty-minutes left to sip some wine before their doors would close for the day. There is a wooden statue of a wine-maker upon entering. In his left hand was a bunch of grapes, with his right hand it seems as if we was about to flash the middle finger. They still had the rose (insert funky accent mark above the 'e') wine I liked the last time, called Windmill Blush, so I purchased a bottle for about ten bucks. We also took advantage of their wine-tasting options. They have one option in which you can select from a group of four wines for two dollars each, and then another option for about twelve dollars you can select more wines from an even longer list of options. There are also wine-related snacks available for purchase at the winery while visitors sip away such as salami, prosciutto, and cheese. For the smokers out there they even sell cigars to munch on while sampling a different variety of their presses. One can stay around the bar area where they pour the glasses (except I'm sure you can't smoke there) or there is an outside area with patio tables to lounge at with a peaceful view of the vineyards. The sun kept getting lower and lower by the minute as we all enjoyed our sampling. The sun was officially setting on the beach season, but it was going out gracefully. If there was a ever a perfect time to be at a winery, this was it. I couldn't help but to take out my camera and snap a few shots of the descending sun. When we were walking back to the car I positioned myself to take one final picture, and passing by one of the vineyard workers saw what I was doing and remarked something to the extent of, "Amazing, isn't it".
He kept walking without my response as he knew there would be no disagreement....
We wouldn't be alone; two of her friends were coming with us, but they were actually on the way there so it was rather easy to scoop them up. While they packed their stuff into the car, I saw a dead frog (or toad) was crushed in the middle of the street. I know certain night-creatures such as raccoons, deer, skunks, are frozen by bright car lights and eventually ran over, but I never heard of a frog ending up under a car tire that way too. With the frog's summer officially over, we took to the Long Island Expressway and made the tedious drive to Exit 68, which would lead us to Route 27 East, that goes all the way out to Montauk, passing every ritzy small town beforehand. The time from the Bronx to Exit 68 (including the friend pick-up) was a little under two hours, but once on Route 27, the time from there to where we needed to go was a solid two hours. Most of Route 27 is two lanes under normal circumstances, but naturally on Labor Day Weekend, when there would be a high volume of motorists, the geniuses in charge made sure to schedule road work that closed one lane for a long portion of the route. There's plenty of scenery to soften the blow such as farms, wineries, big houses, boutique shopping centers, but the traffic was bumper to bumper, slow, with only one lane operating; it was rather rough to say the least. Our bellies were growling with hunger, so once we all agreed we needed to eat something and would stop off at the first reasonably-priced looking option, the winner was a Columbian market that sold hot food to go. We grabbed three or four bags of different types of empanadas and one of her friends actually ordered just a piece of chicken, with no rice or side to go along with it, which left the Columbian lady behind the counter quite befuddled.
The actual beach we were heading to was in Hither Hills State Park, that also offers camping grounds, but good luck getting reservations. With Montauk hotel, motel, and rooming prices through the roof, camping is a popular option, but camping veterans that are really into that type of stuff plan it out months and even years ahead. I'm not sure why whoever named the park couldn't find something else to call it that didn't sound like "Hitler". Ordinary visitors such as ourselves are permitted to enjoy the beach, even if we're not actual campers there, all we had to do is pay a parking fee of ten dollars. I saw the camping area with the RV trucks once we entered. The place is equipped with a full bathhouse for changing and showering, plus even a locker rental if you don't trust the other beach-goers. There's also a snack bar to grab some food or even a drink (including alcoholic beverages). Lifeguards are on duty during the day, and there seems to be a very relaxed attitude towards smoking on the beach as I saw several people puffing away without any objections from anyone else. The only thing that seems to be stressed is staying off the dunes, with quite a few of those signs posted.
On my previous trips to Montauk beaches, I always found the waves to be tall and explosive, but for some reason on this occasion the water was mellow. There were some waves to ride in with, but it was not of the usual Montauk caliber. The water temperature was also bone-chilling cold, which shouldn't be as the water usually is near its warmest towards the end of the summer. Nevertheless, after consuming a few more empanadas, I took on the water without any issue. While swimming underneath my vision was darkened by the mucky and murky water color, which was also a rather bit odd. A cool breeze blew in off the water and all the signs were there that the summer was really coming to a close. I got changed once we were done with the beach and before leaving the state park, we made a little detour to the playground next to the parking lot. It's quite an impressive collection of childhood activities: swing sets, slides, rock climbing, poles, lumberjack racing, and sand to fall flat of your face on. We saw a clam bar stand on the side of the road just before we arrived at Hither Hills and planned on having a bite to eat there while heading back home. It's called Clam Bar, and you can either eat at the counter or sit at a table. Cars were parked all over the side off the road as the stand seemed to be very popular. I found it to be somewhat of a tourist trap in terms of the food quality in relation their prices, but it served our purposes well enough. I had a bowl of New England Clam Chowder for six dollars, a dozen littleneck clams for fourteen bucks, and washed it down with a sweat glass of lemonade that ran for two dollars. One of the people that came with us removed her mouth retainer before eating, and later on the waitress came over to clean up around the table as we were getting ready to leave, and picked up the retainer, not knowing it was wrapped in a napkin, and tossed it in the trash. Supposedly without a strong dental plan, those retainers run for a few thousand dollars. The waitress had somewhat of a 'so-what?' response to the mistake, but after some voice-raising she was more motivated to find the correct garbage can and tracked it down in a matter of a minute. We still left her a standard double-the-tax tip.
The final stop on the West version of Route 27 would be the Duck Walk Vineyards at the edge of Wine Country. I first visited it about four years ago and and brought a rose (insert funky accent mark above the 'e') that is difficult to find anywhere else. They have a tasting room that was almost about to close for the day, so we needed to keep our missing-retainer mystery at the Clam Bar as short as possible. The sun was beginning to set when we got there, but there was still thirty-minutes left to sip some wine before their doors would close for the day. There is a wooden statue of a wine-maker upon entering. In his left hand was a bunch of grapes, with his right hand it seems as if we was about to flash the middle finger. They still had the rose (insert funky accent mark above the 'e') wine I liked the last time, called Windmill Blush, so I purchased a bottle for about ten bucks. We also took advantage of their wine-tasting options. They have one option in which you can select from a group of four wines for two dollars each, and then another option for about twelve dollars you can select more wines from an even longer list of options. There are also wine-related snacks available for purchase at the winery while visitors sip away such as salami, prosciutto, and cheese. For the smokers out there they even sell cigars to munch on while sampling a different variety of their presses. One can stay around the bar area where they pour the glasses (except I'm sure you can't smoke there) or there is an outside area with patio tables to lounge at with a peaceful view of the vineyards. The sun kept getting lower and lower by the minute as we all enjoyed our sampling. The sun was officially setting on the beach season, but it was going out gracefully. If there was a ever a perfect time to be at a winery, this was it. I couldn't help but to take out my camera and snap a few shots of the descending sun. When we were walking back to the car I positioned myself to take one final picture, and passing by one of the vineyard workers saw what I was doing and remarked something to the extent of, "Amazing, isn't it".
He kept walking without my response as he knew there would be no disagreement....
