By Dave Davis
As many of the regular readers of this column will recall, in May of this year, I exited the space I’d been renting for some 10 or so years, due to the unexpected passing of my landlord. Rather than stressing out, trying to immediately secure another place prior to the peak summer season here on the East End, I opted for a far more, slower-paced retreat — returning to the farmhouse upstate where I’d cared for my aging father a few years ago.
The lovely Amish family that owns the house, and nearly 250 acres of rolling hills surrounding it, have generously allowed me to come and go as necessary, when in town visiting my brothers and their families who live nearby. They’ve even gone so far as to let me furnish the downstairs with vintage furniture and whatnot, left over from a small wholesale business I’d once run on weekends, during my free time as an educator.
Not until this past week, when I returned to the East End for several doctor appointments, did it hit home just how smart of a decision I had made to escape the madness.
As a long-time year ‘rounder out here, I’m well aware of the difference between ‘in-season’ and ‘off-season’ as is the case with nearly all resort areas. Many locals, who tend to steer clear of the restaurants and other overcrowded places during the summer (choosing to enter only when absolutely necessary), rejoice in the ‘return-to-normal’ status of their communities once the seasonal crowds have departed.
Maybe it’s because it has been months since I’ve set- tled in at the farmhouse, with its expansive green pastures teeming with grazing animals, multiple vegetable gardens and fruit trees within arm’s length of my back deck, that the stark contrast with life here on the tip of Long Island hit so hard this time around.
More than any other time that I can recall, possibly with the exception of July 4th weekend; the abundance of vehicles that I encountered on the road while attempting to navigate my way from Montauk to Southampton was truly staggering. Every single ‘back road’ that I often take (even in the off-season), moved at a snail’s pace for no apparent reason other than shear volume.
No accidents (fortunately); very few stop signs or traffic lights; just an overabundance of motorists clogging up the infrastructure that was clearly not designed to accommodate this.
I think what perplexed me about the experience were the conditions. I know full well that a rainy Saturday would most likely explain why so many folks were ‘out- and-about;’ scouring the local shops for an end-of-season bargain, but it was late morning on a beautiful, sunny Tuesday and I was traveling east to west; so that ruled out the westbound trade parade that typically starts around 2 p.m.
As far back as I can remember, villages in the Hamptons looked like ghost towns at that hour, where beaches would be packed with families enjoying the sun and surf until late in the afternoon when the stores and eateries would eventually be overflowing with sunburned beachgoers. I distinctly recall having conversations with retailers, asking how business was going, and they all prayed for at least a day or two of rain to bring in more foot traffic on weekdays.
On the upside, I’m happy to report that each of the various doctor appointments I’d consolidated into that single day went well. In addition, later that afternoon, I secured a new living space in Montauk for the ‘off-season’ — long after the masses have dissipated. I sure do like the sound of that!
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