Delaware Beach and Camp Times

This summer flew by. Between my two biggest excursions to North Carolina and Lake Champlain, I certainly can't say that I didn't get my fair share of swimming done, but somehow I struggled to find a weekend to dedicate to my annual Delaware beach camping adventure. In previous years I've gone in the early summer and then again in the latter part of the season. This year I wasn't sure I was going to go at all. I've gained some new responsibilities at work and they were making me feel slightly less capable of taking vacation days...but I made it happen. I arrived on the Wednesday before Labor Day and quickly set up my tent. Rain was also in the forecast, so I set up a tarp so I could still enjoy at least a little time sitting outside. After setting the site up I did as I often do and went to Fin's for happy hour and oysters. Unfortunately I forgot to bring my camera so you'll just have to trust me when I say that I had a dozen oysters and steamed shrimp and enjoyed a Troeg's beer while making friends with an older woman who has a hair cutting license in three states.

The next day it was beach times. I brought a beer with me. I also brought Let's Pretend This Never Happened, which is a pretty good read if you're interested in a funny woman with a wacky childhood recounting her various anxieties and triumphs.

The water was really perfect that first day. The waves weren't crashing as much as lolling and I was able to comfortably float without fear of being smashed to the ocean's floor. So the campground is about a mile away from an access point for the beach. This access point is about 2 miles away from the primary beach area for the park, which features a giant parking lot,  large bath house, concession stand and life guards. Generally speaking the section of beach that you can walk to from the campground is far less crowded. The area by the beach house is always pretty chock full of bodies and umbrellas, while this more remote spot certainly isn't going to give you a sense of being totally alone but does give you a little more space between people. This was very much the case on that Wednesday, when it was pretty much me with my set up and then a young couple a couple hundred yards away from me on one side and a lady with her two sons on the other. It wasn't quite as solitary or remote as the beaches of Eleuthera, but it was still nice. Oh and there was an Amish couple playing baseball because of course. I have many thoughts about the Amish/Mennonite folks also camping but I'll perhaps share that in my next post.

After a day at the beach it was time to seek out a meal. I decided to return to the Surfing Crab and debated whether I was going to go the soft shell or hard shell crab route. In the end I decided that I was up to a solitary round of crab cracking and ordered half a dozen medium crabs. In the past I've been seated, or have seated myself, in the dining room to the left when you first walk into the space, which has long picnic tables that are perfect for large parties. This time, however, I went to the room that actually had seats with backs. I was, as is often the case, the only person by myself and the majority of the other tables were older couples on what seemed like double or triple dates. In one instance three couples came in together and quickly the men sat at one table while the women sat at another. I guess that makes sense? As a woman who sometimes finds the conversation of men more interesting than those of women (not always of course), I always hate that breakdown, but maybe after you're married for 30 years you just don't feel like hanging out in a coed group anymore?

I also ordered fries. This was a generous basket of very hot and crispy fries. I enjoyed them but didn't make that much of a dent, as my real focus was on the crabs.

This crab was a dictator in life, and a high five enthusiast in death. I made it through four crabs but couldn't quite bring myself to eat the last two. Service was good and fast. I could have perhaps done without my waiter touching my shoulder in a way that I felt was a little pitying or presumptuous. Or maybe I was just being overly sensitive. I didn't see him touching anyone else's shoulders. So it is a funny thing, my simultaneous desire to want to talk about how it actually is a little bit of a bummer to do things I like by myself and my annoyance if anyone other than me assumes that I am bummed. I had a fine time on this evening. The crabs were good. I had a book. I was doing exactly what I wanted to do. Yes, I would have liked to have a little company, but not having a companion didn't immediately make the meal (or any other aspect of the trip) suddenly sad. And yet I felt like those shoulder touches were somehow supposed to buck me up. Or it was all in my head. Hard to tell really.

And then it was a new day. The water was a little rougher and I was reading a new book, also good: Beautiful Ruins. This day was definitely more packed as far as folks, which made sense given the fact it was now a Friday on Labor Day weekend.

I worried after hearing stories all summer about these massive dolphin deaths in the Atlantic that I wouldn't see any on this trip. Luckily that wasn't the case. One of the positive things of being on a beach with other people, some of whom are children, is that I could focus on reading my book with the knowledge that if there were dolphins to be sighted, the parents would call out to their kids loudly enough for me to to into zoom photo action. As always, it was neater really to actually just watch their fins skim the water's surface than to try and photograph it. Really neat. Though I still haven't seen another one jump out of the water like I did quite a few years back.

Looking toward the main beach/bath house area.

Crab Cake c/o Surfing Crowd and Philadelphia Roof Party

Ours was a Saturday to Saturday rental, so we all pretty much got on the road by eight the next morning. I drove up through Virginia, across the bay into Delaware and then hit traffic. Stupid, dumb traffic. I'm not sure I'll be able to get to Cape Henlopen for my annual beach/camping/oyster fest of previous years, but I knew that I wasn't far from it when I hit that snag of serious traffic. Though the stopped flow of cars moving north were surrounded by fast food joints and the like, I decided to take it as a sign that my need to eat warranted a detour. And with that decision I began wending my way east through some pretty good country roads for about 20 minutes in order to arrive just about on the doorstep of the Surfing Crab. I was right. It was worth it. Much like my last visit, I was on the early side and there weren't but one other family sitting in the establishment. I knew before I sat down what I was going to have and barely looked at the menu before requesting it. Sometimes a good thing is a good thing.

Still a good crab. I ordered the sandwich but ignored the bread entirely.

I arrived home around 3 or maybe 4 and spent a few hours trying to reorganize my life (I failed and have continued to fail ever since; my room is a disaster). I knew that M. and D. were having a party that night, but I wasn't sure I was up to heading out so soon after returning home. In the end after a number of hours reading a book on my deck and fixing some damage wrought upon my plants while I was away, I decided to put my party face (and dress) on and join LW, CPM and R. on their walk to the part-ay. There we enjoyed numerous finger foods, nice seats on their roof, copious beer and a few new conversations. It was a good night that didn't end in disaster. This was due, at least in part, to my decision not to join the party's bandwagon to go dancing, where I'm pretty sure only madness would have followed. I do sometimes wish when I had been 22 I was the type to understand what fun it could be to go dancing. It's never too late to know it's fun, but often the fun doesn't start until it's too late for this 31 year old to want to mess with. I am an old fogey. Let's move on.

The next day I had a number of errands to run, including a trip to Target, a need to make a stop at the Headhouse Farmer's Market, and an attempt to find soft shell crabs at Reading Terminal Market. The soft shell crab search didn't work out, but I did try a Dinic's roast beef sandwich with broccoli raabe and provolone cheese, which was good though not as amazing as I had expected.

Bachelorette Pre-Gaming, Dinner c/o Cabo, Dancing c/o Blue Moon

Once I returned to the fold I painted my nails and put on my party dress. LB, the lady of the evening, had quite the hot party dress.

We had dinner plans but before embarking on that part of our night there were first gifts and champagne.

LB got a mix of funny lingerie, things that lit up and a pretty cool sweatshirt. I gave her funny little bracelets and a to-go cupcake container.

The champagne-holding  bling ring was an especially neat gadget.

For dinner LX made us a reservation at Cabo, which wasn't far from our hotel. We got a nice table on the second floor deck and while we were waiting for it to clear I had a margarita. For dinner I chose to try the lobster ceviche and skirt steak. The ceviche wasn't quite right. Too sweet for something that was supposed to have a habenero element, and overcooked. Of course ceviche isn't cooked per se, but I think it sat in its juices too long. The texture was off. The steak, on the other hand, was delicious and cooked nice and medium rare. No complaints on that front.

After dinner we went to Blue Moon...or I think it was Blue Moon. It could have been somewhere else entirely. It was a predominantly gay bar with lots of dancing.

This was the unfortunate moment when an exuberant man lifted LB up and with her went her dress skirt.

Regrouping.

And then finally a few drinks at the Purple Parrot.

The whole weekend was wild. LB has so many good friends from different times and places in her life and it was so nice to finally put faces to some names I've been hearing about for over 15 years. I know I had a lovely time and I hope she did too!

Martini and Oysters c/o Fin's

After a lovely afternoon at the beach I took a shower and then set out on an independent oyster fix at my go-to oyster spot in the Rehoboth/Lewes area: Fins. I was lucky enough to grab a seat at the already pretty packed bar and ordered myself a dirty martini, which was expertly prepared and oh-so-delightful.

I then ordered a dozen oysters, six Mayflower and six Beaver Tail. My notes are rather spare due to the entertaining bar conversation/dynamic I quickly joined with a few fellow bar patrons to my left. I believe I asked the bartender which oysters were closest to a Pemaquid, and he went with the Mayflowers. And then I may have conversely asked which oysters were the most similar to Kumomotos (I don't think there were any west coast oysters on the menu that day). Though my notes were brief, I did write that the Mayflowers were very salty, but with a rather smooth finish. My entire thought on the Beaver Tails was that they were "so so." I think then ordered another half dozen of the Cedar Islands, which were my favorite but god help me I couldn't tell you why.

While I was enjoying my martini and oysters, I also began a rather silly but lengthy conversation with others sitting at the bar. S and D were a couple from Pittsburgh on their first Rehoboth vacation, and J was a hot mess from Columbus. To say that our conversation was silly is an understatement. I mean. We talked about things that no group of strangers should really be talking about when the sun is still in the sky. In other words, we talked about sex. Hilarious sex. Inappropriate sex. At one point J. asked me to be his fag hag, I demurely turned him down. J. was, shall we say, talkative. I'd like to share some of the bigger gems from our conversation, but it might be unseemly/certainly not for a PG-13 audience. Seriously though, the conversation was so raunchy that even the bartender seemed taken aback (I'm pretty sure I saw him shaking his head in disbelief at one moment iwhen oral sex was the topic). Though it was quite a good time, I eventually gathered myself together and met up with BC in order to get back to the true purpose of the weekend: celebrating LB's dwindling days of being a singleton. But not before I took this photograph to commemorate the strange momentary clique I joined one late afternoon in Rehoboth.

Fin's, as always, didn't disappoint.

Breakfast and Juice c/o Greenman Bistro

Friday night ended late but the majority of us were up and getting ourselves together by 9. LX and I went out in search of juice/smoothies and ended up sitting down on the porch of Greenman Juice Bar and Bistro to satiate both the juice need we started out with and the egg sandwich that developed as we walked. I can't find their juice menu online, but I chose the juice that included carrot, pineapple, orange and at least one other fruit juices. It was delightful and gave me new power in life.

I chose the egg and cheese sandwich on ciabatta with turkey sausage. It looked great, but I can't say it was quite amazing. The eggs seemed possibly microwaved and the sausage wasn't all that spectacular either. My thought on the spot is that it would be great for a juice or a coffee, but maybe not worth the time or money for actual grub.

Then a bunch of us got ourselves together and went to the beach. This was quite a different scene than my usual Delaware beach time. So many people it was mind boggling. BC grabbed a nice spot and an umbrella, which we then spread around. The water was packed with folks. You couldn't go a foot without running into another body so infinite amounts of floating wasn't really an ideal activity. It was still good to hang out with LB and her assorted ladies, most of whom will join me as bridesmaids in her wedding.

Pizza and Scenes from Rehoboth

Soon others began rolling into town in order to partake in the celebration of LB's bachelorette-hood. BC was there very soon after my arrival, if not before it, but holed up in one of the two hotel rooms LX had reserved for us. They were nice rooms and both faced out on to Rehoboth Avenue.

Rehoboth really is quite packed during a Friday night. Plenty of folks walking the main drag or along the boardwalk. Traffic looked a right nightmare.

We ordered four pizzas from Grotto Pizza, which they were willing to deliver directly to our rooms. This was the mushroom and pepperoni. There was also a veggie variety, a plain ol' cheese, and some kind of Mediterreanean option.

After drinks and pizza in the room, we gathered ourselves and went exploring in the larger world. I had no idea how extensive the boardwalk really is, or that it had actual rides. This information was collected at roughly the same time the rides were shutting down. We stopped for poses with these rides but were told to cease and desist because the elephant and Thomas were antiques.

After a bit of a walk we went to the Purple Parrot for further drinks and karaoke.

A lovely first evening. It went on a bit later, complete with outfit changes and a first row seat to a drunk driver getting arrested before even moving his car an inch. Compelling stuff and lovely company.

Fish Tacos c/o The Purple Parrot

Last weekend I gathered myself together and drove down to Rehoboth Beach, Delaware in order to celebrate the impending nuptials of LB. Because I am who I am, I arrived much earlier than the rest of the bachelorette folks. This allowed me to suss out the parking situation, pre-order pizza for the evening's festivities, and generally take a moment. This moment also resulted in my going to the Purple Parrot for a late lunch. I'd never heard of this place nor gone to it in any of my other trips to the area, but it was right next to our apartment and had a festive atmosphere even from the sidewalk. So I went with it. At around 3 in the afternoon I was one of only a handful of folks sitting and eating and drinking, so service was pretty good...and came in the form of a 20 year old dude not wearing a shirt. I ordered a happy hour margarita and the fish tacos, which I had thought was a happy hour special but turned out not to be. Not complaining though. I was hungry and the mix of cabbage crunch and hot fried fish was fantastic.

I also really enjoyed the living roof thing they had going on, as well as the music playing.

A nice way to ease into what would be a very fun and late-night filled weekend.

Parting Scenes in Cape Henlopen State Park and Crab Cake c/o Surfing Crab

The last day of a camping weekend is always a sad thing for me. My feet are inevitably very filthy, sand can be found in my hair and all my clothes smell like smoke, but my emotional balance is better than it often is in the city. I think one of the reasons I find myself happier when alone in pretty places is that the pressure is off. Cities remind me that there are so many folks out and about, living their lives...sharing similar interests, falling in love, eating, drinking, holding hands while walking the streets, having compelling conversations about things I've never heard of, dancing well or poorly, watching movies in parks on blankets, gathering together in kitchens to bake bread. All that stuff. And sometimes I feel like I'm not really doing any of that in my own life ... even if this blog might try to convince you otherwise.

So when I'm camping by myself, or spending a long weekend in the country by myself, I usually don't have that same falling sense of emptiness or loneliness that sometimes overwhelms me in the city. Though technically more alone in these environments,  I am not as concerned with the ways my current life doesn't quite match up with the life I might have imagined for myself five or ten years ago. I am not as caught up with the sense that I'm treading water while most of those around me - friends and strangers alike - are streaking by me with purpose and intention.  I am contented with a warm spot to sit with a good book. Or I am more contented than when I'm reading a book in my room, with the sounds of the city right outside my window. No place or scene can completely sooth the less positive thoughts in my head. On this camping trip I encountered at least a few moments of longing. That I was at a point in my life where the kids riding bikes in circles around the campgrounds were mine, or that I was one half of one of the couples taking twilight strolls with flashlights in their back pockets. But that was not the main tone of the weekend, which was one of independence and peacefulness.

So the last day of camping is a sad one because this sense of solace - this sense of worrying a little less about the things I feel are absent from my life - it starts to slip away. There is the business of striking the tent, taking trash to the dump and shaking the sand out of the towels. There is the decision process of whether to walk to the beach one last time in swim suit, or whether to forgo that particular activity in favor of sitting in the shade reading a book (it may not surprise you that I chose the book). Eventually there is the bittersweet driving away from the campgrounds and the greater Cape Henlopen State Park, and with every mile between me and the campsite, reality seeps in: three weeks of laundry to do, four months of bills and credit card offers to shred, a kitchen floor in need of a good scrubbing.

On this particular trip I learned a few things about the park that I hadn't know previously. These things included: there is a place where you can go and pet sea creatures (I imagine mainly horse shoe crabs), one can rent a bike for free (this state park is one of the few environments where riding a bike seems like a really appealing option to me), and there is also a 'frisbee golf' course. I ended up driving around the park a little before leaving, and found this second beach area, which seemed to be the go-to spot for trucks and fishermen.

It was a little cloudy and blustery on this last day, which made my choice not to suit up a little less fraught.

I decided that I would stop at the Surfing Crab after I departed Cape Henlopen. All the friendly ribbing about how I'd regret not trying their crab cake had gotten to me...I don't like to miss out on tasty things. No. No I do not. So very soon after they opened I rolled on into their gravel parking lot. I was greeted by a friendly and rather cute young man (does it make me creepy to note that this kid was attractive? I imagine he was in college, not, like, high school). The youngster then ushered me into the empty dining space and allowed that I could sit wherever I liked. I took a seat at the end of one of the large and long tables and took a quick look at the menu. I was interested in trying a half and half of their Maryland crab soup and their cream of crab soup, but they were out of the one and somehow I didn't want all of the other. After getting a lager I placed my order: the crab cake sandwich with vegetable side. The vegetables on this day were asparagus and were serviceable if not very memorable. But let me tell you what. This crab cake lived up to the hype. I didn't bother with eating it like a sandwich, which would have ruined some of the crabbiness with bread filler, and just ate the cake with a fork. It was nice and crispy on the outside, and creamy crabby on the inside. Scarcely any filler. Well flavored. Lovely large morsels of lump crab meat.

Comparing this meal's simplicity and friendly server with Claw's far less satisfying dinner of the night before is perhaps unfair. Having already had one good meal at the Surfing Crab I was predisposed to expect good things. Though, actually, I was predisposed to think the Claws' association with Fin's was going to be lead to good things. And I really do know that it's not fair to compare the manner of two 20-something young men as servers when one was dealing with multiple tables during a busy time of day while the other was faced with only two tables in the middle of the afternoon. And yet. I wonder. For many people serving tables at restaurants is a summer gig or only a temporary state of being; something you do while you're getting your college education, or something you do while supporting an artistic pursuit of some kind. I don't know where I was going with that. That both servers were young men, but that one referred to me as 'friend' at the end of the meal and encouraged me to sit and read my book even when my plate was cleared...while the other gave me my check without asking if I wanted another beer or anything else. Shrug. Friendliness counts for something. But then I feel bad because I have worked in the food service industry. I know how hard it can be to give a shit about your patrons when the kitchen and you are completely in the weeds. I know what that's like too. Yeah, I've lost my point. To conclude: Surfing Crab, you do a good job of making a girl feel welcome and your food is good.

Then I got back on the road. The remaining pit stops I made included this farm stand, where I bought two things of flowers (one geranium, one mystery), which I planted in a bigger pot and haven't yet died after a week or two (I imagine they'll die any day now, a green thumb is not one of my qualities/appendages).

I also bought three ears of corn. And then finally, unpictured, I stopped at the last fish market on Route 1 before going inland and picked up a few soft shell crabs to make my future meals a little more interesting.

And that concludes my Delaware/Cape Henlopen/Rehoboth Beach camping and eating adventure. And some stray thoughts on service and loneliness.