Been a while since I have actually posted anything real here...
I am not sure why, exactly.  There is stuff going on, out here, I just didn't feel like bending your ear on it, or whatever.


We rambled over to the island of Jamestown, this past weekend, for some air and adventure.

I have rolled over there before, as a bike blast thrash, but hadn't really slowed down enough to check shit out.
It's an island, so you know everything is on one street and there are four things to do at any time.
Jamestown sits in the bay, between here and Newport.
There may be a lowbrow Newport suburb vibe, but shit is pretty highbrow in Newport so even that is a bit fancy.
Big summer house lookin' houses and little ramshackle crackerboxes mixed in.


And a shit ton of those old rock walls...
Everywhere.
Rocks piled into little boundaries and barriers.
Made me wonder about life on Jamestown, in the 1700's...

"Hey Swanty.  I haven't seen you in a moon.  Whatcha been busying yourself with?"
"Eh, you know, stacking rocks.  Got a good run on the east pile of rocks, now..."
"Ya, me too.  Pick up a rock, add it to the pile and again.  Idle hands and all that."


Anyway, we ambled over to Jamestown with an excuse destination, the Beavertail Lighthouse.
It is apparently the third oldest lighthouse in America, which is a detail that will likely prove useless to you in the future.  Now you know.
It sits on the south tip of the island on some rocky spit of shore, as you probably imagine an old east coast lighthouse would.
You get the idea...

Scrambling around on the rocks, facing the wind, watching the tide and the sea foam swirling in cold stone pools.
It made me think about Winslow Homer and his studio, up in Maine...
It was all so lovely and demonstrative, that front line of the war between earth and sea, that I could understand why a man would hermit away for years, trying to capture a whisper of that energy...


And then we got some lunch.
Well, sorta.  Our timing was a bit late for lunch and too early for dinner at most of the island spots.
Off peak hour on an off peak day on an island.  Perhaps poorly timed on our part.

Rather than resigning for sad pub food and white guy blues music, we ended up sitting outside at Fish.
Yes, it was cold.  It's November in New England for Christ's sake, of course it was cold...
But they have those heater things, an outdoor pizza oven, and a game bartender willing to deal with the likes of us.  We stuck to recommended pizza action, warm cocktails and witty banter.
All very satisfying...
I would hit this place again.  They seem to have their game together, from the glimpse I got to have.


So, yeah.
I sorta feel obligated to start on a rock wall...