Next stop: Watch Hill, Newport and Block Island.
By James Long
Every story needs a beginning and I’m convinced that Rhode Island has a way of turning every visit into a story worth telling.
In 1997, my then boyfriend surprised me on my birthday with a road trip and a long weekend in Newport. On that early Friday morning, with a coffee mug and a hastily packed duffle bag in my hands, after rescuing the car from Manhattan’s alternate side parking within seconds before the ticketing agent took out her pen, I began my first visit to The Ocean State.
Our first stop, according to my partner’s secretively-researched itinerary, would be for breakfast in Watch Hill. From Manhattan’s Upper West Side, the roughly three-hour drive—about the same from, say, Hudson—skirting along I-95 even with light traffic wasn’t exactly the ideal mood-setting corridor to an iconic Gilded Age summer outpost. Still, the anticipation of Watch Hill’s picturesque coastal landscapes, curving beaches and lush green rolling hills coupled with the chill sound of my George Shearing CD playing jazz standards made it feel like a road trip straight out of that Great American Novel.
Indeed, like Jay Gatsby’s West Egg, Watch Hill is known for its newer money—and even newer Taylor Swift—“cottages” a.k.a. mansions, more modest (if that’s possible) than nearby old money Newport. Upon reaching the town of Westerly and heading south into Watch Hill, it soon became evident the rich—and richer—are not like you and me.
Driving around, it took only a few minutes to find a place to have breakfast—smartphones and Google weren’t things yet—with a quaint restaurant on Watch Hill Road at last satisfying my addiction to coffee and French toast. Afterwards, we took a leisurely walk down to the water, passing the famous Ocean House, demolished in 2005 with a new hotel, modeled after the 1868 Victorian original, using many of its original artifacts and completed in 2010. Farther down the road we sighted another landmark, the Watch Hill Lighthouse, walking along its jetty-like outcrop with panoramic views of the Atlantic, craggy coastlines and lengths of sandy beach. Retracing our steps and turning a corner, we caught sight of The Flying Horse Carousel, purportedly the oldest continuously operating carousel and, I checked, still open for kids younger than 12 (darn it). Anyway, it was time to head back to the car. As enjoyable as Watch Hill was, we didn’t want to stay too long as Newport beckoned. More urgently, so did a television.
Sadly, my birthday weekend occurred only days after the tragic death of Diana, Princess of Wales. Her funeral was scheduled to be televised live in the early morning hours the next day and it wasn’t to be missed. Back in the car, during the 50-minute drive along US-1 to Newport, we turned on the car radio for the latest news, hearing about the multitudes of mourners and descriptions of the growing retaining wall of flowers outside Buckingham Palace, the commentators underpinning our own melancholy. We drove into Newport and made our way to our hotel, and after checking in and enjoying an exquisite birthday dinner in its restaurant, the remainder of the evening and into Saturday’s early hours were in our room in front of a TV.
Newport, with its opulent Gilded Age mansions, has always been identified as having been robbed—sorry—transported from a slice of European grandeur to New England. Contrast the poignant funeral of the People’s Princess with the surreal juxtaposition of 19th-century opulence as we toured Gilded Age mansions on bellies full of superior French toast from the morning. Two goliaths, in particular, dearly cost me in Fujifilm disposable cameras: The Breakers, the stunning 70-room Renaissance Revival designed by architect Richard Morris Hunt for the Vanderbilts (seeing my photos of its central Great Hall now conjures Lara-Croft-bungee-jumping while two massive Baccarat chandeliers in the grand dining room would humiliate any Phantom Of The Opera pretender); and Marble House, a 20-minute walk from The Breakers, also built by Hunt for a Vanderbilt though in a Beaux Arts style, where, upon entering, one instantly comprehends why the cottage’s keyword is “marble”—it’s pervasive, from ceiling to stairs to floor.
Mansions’ indoors aside, not to be overshadowed was Newport’s open spaces. The Cliff Walk’s 3.5-mile public access walkway definitely got our daily steps in (again, not a thing back then) while challenging me to put down my disposable camera (trending again!) and simply take in the spectacular views—the mansions’ meticulously manicured back lawns, catamarans racing past yachts in the Atlantic epitomizing Newport as a sailing Mecca—all against a brilliant horizon. The life of unimaginable luxury for the very rich that we can’t even imagine today. Wait…never mind.
My first adventures in Rhode Island wouldn’t be complete, however, without mentioning a more recent first visit to Block Island to be a groomsman at a summer wedding. Nine miles south of Rhode Island’s mainland, this small island, just under ten square miles, its rolling hills formed by glaciers millennia ago, is accessible by Point Judith Ferry, in Narragansett. Carpooling from Manhattan with four friends, it didn’t feel like three hours had gone by when we arrived at the ferry terminal, parked the car in the adjacent long-term parking (ferry vehicle reservations are accepted, however) and boarded the ferry for the not quite hour-long crossing. Upon arriving on Block Island, the energy from tourists and locals alike was palpable, the gentle summer breeze encouraging relaxed shopping and al fresco dining along the Old Harbor Historic District’s charming streets.
The wedding was to be held at the island’s iconic and elegant Spring House Hotel, built in 1852, where I stayed along with the immediate wedding party. My carpooling friends had rented a house nearby and we disbanded to our separate accommodations to check in, relax for a bit and dress for the rehearsal dinner—an evening that would make my Block Island visit indelible.
Let me set that evening’s scene: an upscale tavern’s dinner and open bar, a lively group of wedding guests, a DJ’s even livelier playlist and a beautiful summer night. What could possibly go wrong? As it turns out, quite a lot. After wine with dinner, several rounds of toasts and my inhibitions and tie loosened after more drinking and much dancing, I found myself in a drunken quest to return to Spring House and respectably pass out in my suite before the impending sunrise.
Fueled by my liquid courage, in my untucked shirt and disheveled suit, I set out on foot from what I thought would be an easy Manhattan-like bar crawl home but soon got completely lost. Wandering along, aided by a depressing hint of sunrise, at last I saw Spring House in the distance and took the most immediate shortcut through a field. Climbing over a fence, I promptly landed face-to-face with (Pinter pause) a camel. A two-humped Bactrian camel, to be precise. After a brief stare down, thinking I might have overestimated my ability to handle mixing endless flutes of champagne and scotch on the rocks, I thought I might be hallucinating. That is, until I saw the zebra, which settled the matter. Mere steps away from both, I admit that I attempted–and failed–to talk to the camel and zebra, but with no reciprocity from either, figuring I’d sleep off whatever Daliesque thing was going on in my brain, I journeyed onward, climbing over yet another fence and the short walk to the hotel.
Block Island isn’t just about weddings and revelry, though. The Mohegan Bluffs, with their steep cliffs and striking views, offered a perfect hangover hike on the morning of the wedding. Each step to the beach down wooden stairs (since repaired and reinforced) was a reminder of my last night’s escapades, lack of sleep and throbbing head. A stop for coffee in Old Harbor provided a much-needed jolt before returning to Spring House and joining the other groomsmen in the groom’s suite to dress for the late-afternoon wedding. [A footnote: Upon recounting my camel and zebra story to the guys, it appears there is an “exotic farm” on Block Island, now part of The 1661 Inn, a short walk from Spring House and, according to its website, “open year-round during day light hours for kids and kids at heart to enjoy.” No allowances, however, for drunken, night-wandering groomsmen.]
A road trip has the promise of adventure around every bend and mine to these gems was certainly a pleasure, as much about the destinations as it was about my experiences along the way. Whether a planned vacation or day trip, from the quiet charm of Watch Hill to the grandeur of Newport and, ahem, Block Island’s remote beauty, each place is guaranteed to leave its mark with unforgettable moments.
To date, I’ve been to two weddings now and (watched) a funeral in Rhode Island. With any luck—and, say, two more weddings?—it could make a good movie starring Hugh Grant as me. Wait…never mind.
Watch Hill
SLEEP
Ocean House
1 Bluff Avenue
Watch Hill, RI 02891
401.584.7000
oceanhouseri.com
Watch Hill Inn
38 Bay Street
Watch Hill, RI 02891
855.677.7686
watchhillinn.com
EAT
Verandah Raw Bar
1 Bluff Avenue
Watch Hill, RI 02891
401.584.7000
oceanhouseri.com
St. Clair Annex
141 Bay Street
Watch Hill, RI 02891
401.348.8407
stclairannexrestaurant.com
Newport
SLEEP
Hammetts Hotel
4 Commercial Wharf
Newport, RI 02840
401.324.7500
hammettshotel.com
Castle Hill Inn
590 Ocean Drive
Newport, RI 02840
888.466.1355
castlehillinn.com
EAT
Matunuck Oyster Bar
629 Succotash Road
Wakefield, RI 02879
401.783.4202
rhodyoysters.com
Giusto
4 Commercial Wharf
Newport, RI 02840
401.324.7400
giustonewport.com
Block Island
SLEEP
Spring House Hotel
51 Spring Street
Block Island, RI 02807
401.466.5844
springhousehotel.com
Block Island Beach House
32 Dodge Street
Block Island, RI 02807
401.466.5500
larkhotels.com/hotels/bibh
EAT
The Surf
32 Dodge Street
Block Island, RI 02807
401.466.5505
thesurfblockisland.com
Rebecca’s
435 Water Street
Block Island, RI 02807
401.466.5411
rebeccasseafood.com
—Isabel Hochman
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