Miles from Monday is a weekly travel series focused on venturing out of the spaces we inhabit during our work week and retreating to landscapes that feel far from routine.
September 17, 2012, Washington, DC: The three King brothers opened King’s Kitchen in June on Connecticut’s Southport Beach. It’s a tiny shack with fish tacos and lobster rolls on the menu, Chuck Berry and Johnny Cash on the playlist, and Adirondack chairs and picnic tables on the sand. It’s a spot where books are strewn about tabletops inviting customers to stick around. Not that we needed an excuse to linger last week during my first visit to King’s Kitchen. On a day like Tuesday with a sharp view clear across the water to Long Island, it was easy to let time slip away.
May 8, 2012, Washington, DC: There are roots we work hard to grow when we settle into a new hometown and then there are others wedged firmly into the soil that we can’t seem to break. We returned to Connecticut this weekend for my high school reunion, refamiliarizing ourselves with the roots that took hold early on.
“As we write, so we build: to keep a record of what matters to us.”
-Alain de Botton, The Architecture of Happiness
March 3, 2012, Washington, DC: We dined two weeks ago Nob Hill Cafe, my favorite neighborhood restaurant in San Francisco. From our little table on Taylor Street, we sifted through old photos that accompanied a Huffington Post story published that day on the death of one of the few remaining survivors of the San Francisco earthquake of 1906. There atop Nob Hill, we scrolled through photos of the very block where we sat, illustrating it completely leveled from the earthquake and fire that destroyed it more than a century ago. The information was available at our fingertips on our phone, as if we’d dug up an old time capsule.
In a sense, we had. For all the talk of the pitfalls of the digital age, we should recognize some of its greatest assets: History is accessible. Readily available information offers us new perspective and insight into experiences we never knew.
“It binds us and forms our lives in ways that we do not entirely understand, and yet we are unconciously dependent upon. The places you love will do that to you.”
November 27, 2011, Southport, CT: Today we biked up Harbor Road and down Sasco Hill, heading for sand and a glimpse of Southport from the far side of the harbor. Sailors were still on the water and a kayaker paddled off Sasco Beach. From the narrow point of land where the Mill River empties into Long Island Sound, the view was crystal clear, as was the understanding that this place is a vacation. It’s a vacation with a far more personal touch.
More photos from Sasco Beach and our free day in Southport after the jump…
November 26, 2011, Southport, CT: We expect Southport’s summer routines to be behind us now that it’s November. But today’s weather is just as conducive to croquet and bicycles as it was last time I was here — in May — for a girls’ weekend. Six months ago, we were mixing lemonade and beer, and blossoms were bursting. This week, the town Turkey Trot, a too early sunset and a lack of colorful blooms are the only real indicators the holidays are upon us.
Finally. We are back here.
August 28, 2011, Washington, DC: A few days ago I reflected on the serene end of summer in my hometown of Southport, Ct. It was a different story there this morning. My parents’ house off the harbor weathered the storm well, but here’s what they documented today on Harbor Road after high tide following Hurricane Irene.
All photos credited to Beth Barrett.
August 19, 2011: Summer’s end creeps up too fast. No matter how much I’ve traveled this season, the list of places I’ve yet to go remains far too long. But it’s hard to believe a seemingly simple and uncomplicated trip back home did not make the cut this season. It’s hard to believe summer is ending without a trip up to my parents’ house in Southport, Ct., before it does.