Wellfleet - Cape Cod

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ATLANTIC OAKS CAMP GROUND

Atlantic Oaks is a modern campground with a long list of conveniences which have been custom-tailored to meet the needs of RV’ers. Large, wooded, pull-thru sites are not only equipped with the full hookups which you would expect, but also include cable TV. Amenities include clean modern restrooms, free private hot showers, wireless high speed Internet service, a laundry, and LP gas sales. Our new 5,000 square foot multi-purpose building, shown above, is now open. There's also a playground, store and security gate for the convenience and enjoyment of our guests. Our campground is ideally situated, in the Town of Eastham, only a half mile from the National Seashore Visitor Center and just twenty miles from Provincetown. Bay and ocean beaches are nearby and the Cape Cod Rail Trail actually touches the back of our camp! While staying here at Atlantic Oaks, you may choose from many attractions in the area. These include playing in the surf at the National Seashore, swimming in the calm waters of the Cape Cod Bay, or bicycling any portion (or the entire length!) of the renowned Cape Cod Rail Trail. There are other nearby recreational options; take a whale watch trip from Provincetown, charter a fishing boat or launch your own from Rock or Wellfleet Harbors. Excellent restaurants, gift and antique shops are all close by, along with mini golf, the famous Wellfleet Flea Market and the Cape’s last drive-in movie theater.

3700 Route 6, Eastham, MA
phone: 508-255-1437
map / details   

Air-Cooled Engines and Oyster Bliss: A Day on the Cape
Thursday July 17, 2025
Some days unfold like a slow jazz record?no rush, no urgency, just mood and movement. Today was one of those rare July gems, when the to-do list gets replaced by a to-don't, and the only agenda is to chase sunlight and salt air. My wife and I took the 1982 Porsche 911SC out for a spin?not just a spin, mind you, but a full, open-throttle escape to the arm of Massachusetts: Cape Cod.   That car?my old black 911?runs like a dream but makes you earn it. No power steering, no cupholders, just raw mechanics and unfiltered noise. It rattles and hums and smells like gasoline and nostalgia, and it connects you to the road the way few things in this life still do. Sadie climbed in wearing big sunglasses and a linen wrap dress that fluttered dangerously in the coastal wind, looking like something out of a 70s Riviera photo shoot. I tossed a beach bag into the back seat, said a little prayer to the air-cooled gods, and we set off.   We hit Route 6, windows down, wind howling through the cabin, Springsteen humming on the Blaupunkt, and all the tension from the week evaporated somewhere around Sandwich. I always forget how quickly the Cape makes the rest of the world feel optional. The trees change, the houses lean in close, and the sea starts to flirt with you from beyond the pines.   We spent most of the day at Coast Guard Beach, one of our usual haunts. It's alive this time of year?families staking out their plots like sun-kissed homesteaders, teenagers performing the ancient mating rituals of Frisbee and volleyball, and the ocean roaring like it still has something to prove. The water was cold enough to make your teeth clack, but invigorating in the way only New England water can be. Sadie swam with that slow, confident grace she always has?methodical, unbothered, like she owns every inch of the sea she touches. I waded in, took the plunge, came up laughing, and forgot about work entirely.   After enough sun and salt, we decided it was time to dry off, shake the sand out of our shoes, and trade swimsuits for something slightly more civilized. The 911 was waiting for us in the lot, still warm, still perfect. I gave it a pat on the hood like a loyal horse, and we pointed its snub nose toward Brewster.   Dinner was at The Brewster Fish House, a spot we'd heard about for years but somehow never made it to. Tucked into the heart of town, it looks modest from the outside?almost too unassuming. But like any seasoned New Englander, it keeps its brilliance tucked under a weathered exterior.   We were seated promptly by a young host with a surfer's tan and a poet's vocabulary. The room was small but intimate, filled with muted laughter, flickering candles, and the scent of butter and sea. It was one of those rare places where the acoustics are soft and the vibe says you're welcome here, but don't ruin it.   We started with Wellfleet oysters?plump, briny little beasts that tasted like they were shucked by Poseidon himself. They arrived perched on a bed of crushed ice, accompanied by a mignonette so perfectly acidic it could have cleaned a scalpel. Sadie raised an eyebrow at the first one and simply said, ?That's dangerous.? Which, from her, is high praise.   For mains, I had the pan-seared halibut, served over a bed of sweet corn risotto with a charred scallion butter that made me consider licking the plate. Sadie opted for the lobster tagliatelle?handmade pasta tangled with claw meat, spring peas, and lemon zest in a light saffron cream that could've seduced a nun.   The wine list leaned toward coastal whites and small-batch reds, and our server recommended a crisp Albariño that paired so well with the food I started writing mental thank-you notes to the winemaker.   Dessert was a shared plate of house-made panna cotta with macerated strawberries and basil syrup. The kind of dessert that makes you close your eyes involuntarily and remember that life, when you let it, can still astonish you.   We lingered a little after the check came. Not because we were waiting?just because neither of us wanted to leave. You know that feeling when you're full, not just in the belly, but in the soul? That.   The drive home was quiet, dark, and utterly peaceful. The 911 purred along Route 6 like it knew the way by heart, headlights slicing through the mist like they were born to. Sadie rested her hand on my thigh, head tilted toward the window, the air thick with salt and contentment.   We didn't say much. Didn't need to.   Sometimes a good meal, a cold sea, and a roaring old car are enough religion for one day.
Fieldwork Week Six: Drawing
Thursday July 17, 2025
    Thanks again, Ryan, for the great photo!   I'm re-reading Edmund White's marvelous book, The Flâneur, in which he writes:   ?And no wonder Paris, land of novelty and distraction, is the great city of the flâneur ? that aimless stroller who loses himself in the crowd, who has no destination and goes wherever caprice and curiosity directs his or her steps.?    I've been thinking a lot about these fieldwork sessions and how they're different from my actual fieldwork. I think it has something to do with aimlessness and the limitations of destination. I'm happiest when there's the possibility of unanticipated encounter, and I feel listless when I set out for a place.        Last week, we set out for a place and I made a few drawings. It felt like a plein air class, rather than an exercise in curiosity. I want to see things in a new way.   In any case, I made some drawings on Hamblen Island. Not sure they're leading me anywhere.   This coming Saturday, I want to walk and look and discover!   ?   Fieldwork Saturdays in Wellfleet: Organized by Pete Hocking & AMZehnder Gallery   This summer, we're inviting creative people ? including visual artists, photographers, writers, and others ? to join us for community fieldwork sessions in Wellfleet on Saturday afternoons from 2:30 ? 5 PM. This is not a workshop and there will be no instructor. Spending time in a place, looking deeply, taking notes, and allowing the place to soak into memory allows one to bring meaningful experience into the studio ? and to ultimately work more intuitively.  The sessions are also designed to strike up conversation and relationships among Outer Cape artists. You're invited to look, to draw, to paint, to photograph, to take notes, to write ? and especially to connect with other creative people in our incredible community. These sessions are free and you're welcome to join us as your schedule permits. Come for one session or all sessions!    We'll meet at AMZehnder Gallery at 25 Bank Street at 2:30 PM on Saturday and we'll conclude the start of Gallery Night at 5 PM.    Questions? Contact phocking@gmail.com
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