Every year, just after the high season ends, we make a pilgrimage to Block Island with some friends. The friends surf, if there are waves, and they fish in every other waking hour, which leaves us full days to ride our bikes and explore the Island’s not quite ten square miles.
Block Island is located off the coast of Rhode Island, the state that claims it, and almost equidistant from Montauk Point on Long Island. Both are visible on clear days.
There is not much paved road on the island. You can cover it all in short order if you’re motivated to do so, but things get really interesting once you leave the pavement in search of adventure.
In season, snaking along the paths that hug high clay bluffs overlooking the ocean might not be such a good idea, such is the density of population, and riding bikes on these trails is mostly discouraged. In the off-season, the place is deserted, and we take our smooth 25mm tires anywhere our hearts desire.
Native Americans were on Block Island more than 3000 years ago, and the deer population, not to mention the fishing, suggest they lived a good life. You get the distinct sense of plenty everywhere you look, and the island’s size increases on your sight line, contiguous as it is with so much rolling ocean.
Riding to the north end the first day, we took a meandering dirt road to its end, where we picked up a trail that snaked onward to the water, where we turned south and ribboned along the high dunes, in and out of postcard views, all to the metronomic crashing of waves. That trail eventually spat us out just above the main beach area, where we sat and had a drink and watched seagulls wheel and dive in the wind.
40% of Block Island is conservation land, and though houses cluster along most of the roads, it’s a place where nature holds sway. You get the sense that every dwelling stands at the mercy of the wind and water.
The next day we explored the south end of the Island, another dirt road ending in a trail, this one zig-zagging against the high cliffs and occasionally darting down toward the water, sweeping around the southwest point, it turned back through a low glade, the insects still thrumming as if it were high summer. Finally, we came back out by this gate and were struck by a pang of guilt, which quickly subsided as we’d not seen a single walker on our way.
We made our way gradually down the west side, poking our noses out at each beach access, until we had beauty fatigue. Then we rode hard to the northern point to meet the surfers who’d had good luck with a hurricane swell. We raced them back to town for lunch, just a couple of the restaurants still open, though the day was warm and the sun was bright.
The Point Judith ferry that connects Naragansett to Block Island is roughly 90 minutes from the back door at Seven. From there it’s an hour over the water to the harbor. If we get up early and catch the 7:30am boat, we can ride a full day of wide-eyed beautiful road and trail, and be back in Watertown by evening. Maybe, just maybe, we should be doing that more than once a year.
