Wednesday 15th April 2009 – To Rhode Island, by the Scenic Route

Way out  at the eastern end of Long Island, nearly a hundred miles from New York City, there is a small ferry service running from Orient Point to New London in Connecticut, across the Long Island Sound, skirting past the dreaded Plum Island.  The Expressway runs out most of the way, but by the end, it is a single-carriageway road, with the ocean visible on either side.  As a means of getting out of the Big Apple, it has much to recommend it.

The expressway has nothing much to offer.  In fact, the first thing I did on emerging from the Midtown Tunnel was to race off up the wrong ramp.  But no sooner had I done this, than one of New York's finest popped out of the ground to offer sound advice to get me back on track.  The boredom of the turnpike offered the opportunity to investigate that new wonder of automotive technology, the satellite radio.  This has the merit of not having to retune constantly as one moves from the range of one transmitter to the next.

The end of the expressway revealed a succession of shopping malls, and the opportunity for pee and coffee.  The coffee shop was full of High School students (that's a particular age group in American), equal numbers of boys and girls, sitting at separate tables, furiously ignoring each other.  I wanted some reassurance that I was still on the right road, so I took my atlas to the group of boys and asked them where I was.  A long discussion ensued, during which the girls made their escape.  The boys may never forgive me.

Beyond Riverhead, one is in wine country: lots of vineyards, lots of wineries, lots of invitations to taste.  This came as quite a surprise.  I'm not much of a one for wine, but I made a note to try to find out something about it. 

Then the wine country breaks up into little coves and sandy beaches.  The whole place seemed an ideal spot for wine-loving grandparents to take grandchildren for a wildlife holiday.  (It would have to be grandparents, it looked too expensive for parents).  It was rather reminiscent of the Ile de Re in western France.  I wished I had found out a place to stay.

 

But it was onward to the charms of the Cross-Sound Ferry at Orient Point.