Think about the Martha’s Vineyard Campground, and perhaps the delightful colors of the gingerbread cottages, the cool shade under the iconic Tabernacle, and the sparkling sunlight bouncing off the leaves of the green trees come to mind. During the summer, life is bustling amid the 300-plus cottages. But what about the winter, when only some 40 or so of these homes in Cottage City are inhabited? Speaking with various year-round Campgrounders, what repeatedly comes across is a love for their cottages and the quiet sanctuary of this place they call home.
Vici Surr’s connection to the Vineyard began four generations ago. Her grandmother, though, was the first to buy a cottage in 1966. “For the first few years, she rented it out. because she couldn’t afford to purchase the cottage and live here until she paid it off.
“Living here is quirky,” says Surr. “You have to be a certain kind of person to be year-round. You must be happy within yourself, living on your own, and not looking for people to be constantly around. You have to be a little bit of a hermit and a little bit of a social butterfly.”
Asked about her desire to live in the Campground, Surr responds, “First of all, this was my grandmother’s, and when I’m in here, I can feel her presence. I can feel my parents’ presence. It’s my home. I feel very connected to it. I wake up and feel very fortunate. I can look out over a park. It’s just beautiful. I can walk to the beach. And I love the people here. They are just wonderful. I walk out, and I go, ‘Oh, my God. I live here.’ It’s so exciting. This is fabulous. Growing up, I always wanted to live in a little Victorian house near the ocean, and then one day I realized, that’s what I’ve got.”
Lyn Freeman’s family roots in the Campground date back to the mid-19th century. The first of the family’s three houses was built in the late 1860s. “The story goes that they built the kitchen first, and they sold pies out of the back to earn the money to build the rest.”
When Freeman’s husband initially suggested moving here full-time about 13 years ago, she thought it was a horrible idea, wondering what she would do here in the middle of the winter. “Then one day in the summer, I was driving around East Chop, and I was struck by the sheer beauty of the Island. I just stopped at the side of the road and thought, ‘I do want to live here year-round.’ It was a big decision, but our kids were both grown, and it seemed like the right time.
“I used to think summer was the only time to be here, but the rest of the year is just magical,” Freeman continues. “It’s peaceful, and I’m at that point in my life when peace and quiet are good. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do, having worked for 37 years as an educator.” Freeman has found a community of folks who have similar interests, such as music and her church: “I’m at the point where I’m having to force myself to say no, because I have a lot going on.”
Freeman reflects, “The sense of history with my family is really what’s important. I remember sitting on the porch with my mother, sister, my grandmother, and me, all of us listening to the chimes and remembering the people who went before us. Now it’s my cousin and me, and, of course, knowing my grandson will be doing what I did as a kid. That’s really special.”
Rebecca Laird also has a multigenerational connection to the Campground. “The cottage was a wedding present from my great-grandparents in the 1940s to their son, my grandfather. I heard it was about $400. It was adjacent to the original cottage, which is the one beside ours. That one had been in the family since the 1880s.”
The Lairds are unusual because they are raising their three children year-round in the cottage, after leaving Baltimore due to dissatisfaction with the school system. “Living in the Campground is very strange, especially when it’s snowing. Sometimes I think of the other cottages, which are all boarded up, like trees in the woods. It’s very peaceful.”
Asked if the kids like it, Laird responds, “They don’t know any different. I remember when we took our son to visit family off-Island, and he said, ‘Look, Mom. It’s so sad. Those people forgot to paint their houses.’” Laird continues, “We try to emphasize all the positives. I don’t know where else you can so easily have this quiet and yet walk out your door and go to the library, the beach, the bowling alley, get ice cream, and walk to school. They can literally walk anywhere a kid can want to go and then come home, and it’s quiet and doesn’t feel like you’re in the middle of a big bustling area.
“The thing I find the strangest is that in the fall, the tour groups are at their max. I think they assume all the houses are empty. They’re staring in your windows. They’re sitting on your porch. Even the comments are funny. It’s weird having someone stand outside criticizing your home, saying, ‘Well, I don’t like the colors.’ The kids have fun with it, photobombing when they take pictures.”
Jack Sipperly is relatively new to the Vineyard, coming annually with his family since 1998, when he was less than a year old. “We were born and raised in Rhode Island, but we came to love this place, renting in the Campgrounds.” His family bought a cottage in 2008. He moved into the cottage after graduating from college, wondering what the winter would be like. “I made the jump, and have been here since. It’s been such an amazing ride.”
The cottage has insulation and heat, but Sipperly and his fiancée also wear extra-warm clothes. “It’s a little rough, but it’s special. It makes the cottage what it is. We’re not scared of a little draft. It was a bit of an experiment, but it’s such a joy to find ourselves as part of this community. To have the time to slow down, time to reflect, and time to digest. When you see lights on and people around, you go chat and see what they are up to. It has this kind of quaint, quiet, slow breath of fresh air.”