We came over the dune to discover the most beautiful day. The sea of the Vineyard Sound was a sun-filled blue. The sky shined with warmth, and the calm water had only ripples. The low-lying Elizabeth Islands stretched in a row on the other side of the Sound.
The walk was a treat. My daughter, Maggie, was home for a surprise weekend visit. Recently, she had moved to New York City to pursue a degree in psychology. I was as happy as can be.
We set out for the Sheriff’s Meadow Cedar Tree Neck Sanctuary on a recent Saturday afternoon. We chatted from one topic to another on the drive. We turned right off the Indian Hill Road onto the seemingly never-ending dirt driveway.
We met some other traffic. Shallow pullovers and adjoining driveways allowed cars to pass. One person was driving too fast. We nearly collided head-on as we came over a blind rise in the road.
The Daggett Trailhead parking lot was as full as I have seen. Nearly 10 cars were parked. A small group of folks stood behind one of the cars. I surveyed the squarish, packed-dirt lot cut out from the woods. One spot was available immediately to my left. I pulled in. We set out on the familiar Daggett Trail.
The sanctuary was something of a tradition in our family when all the kids were younger. On Thanksgiving and sometimes Christmas holidays, we came with visiting aunts and uncles and cousins for the walk to the beach.
Today Maggie and I hiked the leaf-covered trail. We were careful not to slip. We passed the climbing tree. We crossed the creek. When they were young, Maggie and her brother floated Pooh sticks under the footbridge with their grandmother. The object was to see which stick came out from under first.
We came out of the woods into the dunes. The silvery blue of Daggett Pond was off to our right. The pond is nestled behind the back of a large bluff, and on the other side is up against the sanctuary woods. The sand dune obscured the beach and the sea on the other side. We walked up the bog of sand and came over the top. The unrivaled beauty of the Island day greeted us. The sweet salt air came off the water. We turned right down the beach.
A large family — it seemed — and their dog and another small group also were out enjoying the day. No wonder the parking lot was so full. We made our way to the bluff, only a short distance away.
We climbed the beach to the Obed Daggett Loop Trail, which circuits the bluff. We walked through a natural arbor on the bluff’s back side, with the pond well below. Stunted trees leaned over the trail on both sides, and their tops wove together above us. We followed the trail around and came to the ocean side of the bluff. The growth here was more grasses and scrubby shrubs. We went to the overlook.
The magic of the sea was on full display. The water was a deep blue. So many stories seem to be there. The sky was bright and clear, and the sun dazzled warmly. Only here on the Vineyard.
Maggie has become an urban woman. She is at home in the streets of the city’s West Village. She and an Island friend make thrifting forays into Brooklyn via the ferry, when the opportunity arises. Yet the allure of the Big Apple has not changed her heart. She would like to return to the Island. There is no equal to the Island’s beauty, she says.
We walked back up the beach. We passed the trailhead of the dunes. Ahead, the large family was perched on a pile of rocks above the beach. We continued past with a hello inquiry from their dog. The beach became rocky. Small waves washed up onto the shore.
A section of sand was striated in a wonderful pattern. We stopped for a moment to admire nature’s art. We agreed only rivulets of water could create such a design.
Down the beach, we picked up the white trail. The trail went up steeply. Tall steps were set with cross logs. When we reached the top, we turned left onto the Bill Bridwell Trail.
The Bridwell Trail runs parallel to the beach along the top of the bluff. The Vineyard Sound remained visible through the leafless trees. We chatted throughout. We went up and down and around, and left Bridwell.
We soon found ourselves walking by Ames Pond. Here one is transported to another world. Gone is the presence of the ocean. The small body of water is as pretty and as quiet as can be. One thinks of frogs and turtles and submerged logs. Somehow, this unlikely freshwater habitat found a home in the backlands of the bluff.
We find our way back. We pass the green trail, which leads up to the Irving Trailhead of Indian Hill Road. We walk on a footbridge, and come out to the parking lot. A couple standing at the Daggett Trailhead ask the best way to the beach. We tell them to follow the trail.
We make the long drive out of the sanctuary. How lucky I feel to have a daughter recommend a walk at Cedar Tree on a glorious late November Saturday.
