The Path to Family Bliss at the Beach

Planning a reunion for a family whose coat of arms could bear the motto “Born to Bicker” is not a simple task.

So when the Boston-bred Feldman clan agreed--for our matriarch’s 75th birthday last summer--to head en masse to Martha’s Vineyard, questions arose on just what kind of accommodations to book.

My mom posed the first question to my brother Steve, the lawyer:

“Should we rent one big house for all of us?”

The cross-examination was swift:

“Why would we want to do that?”

Mom: “Oh, you know I’m turning 75, and I don’t know if we’ll ever be able to vacation all together again.”

Steve: “Well, I can tell you this. If we rent one big house, I can guarantee you we won’t vacation together again.”

We considered separate hotel rooms but thought that too sterile for a reunion. Besides, without a kitchen, how would my mother engage in three of her life’s passions--preparing food, freezing it and defrosting it for her grandchildren?

After factoring in the inflated summer vacation rental rates, we finally compromised on renting side-by-side houses, which we found on one of several Martha’s Vineyard Web sites.

The contemporary one-story houses, which are down a dirt road in West Tisbury, weren’t much to look at from the outside. But they were comfortable inside, particularly the larger of the two, a four-bedroom with a screened-in porch, a spacious living room and, most important, a convenient full kitchen, which rented for $2,500 a week in late June.

The houses were next to a large but unswimmable pond, ideal for kayaking, at the center of the island.

The downside of such an arrangement, we feared, would be our distance from the beach. But as it turned out, the stay in West Tisbury was a swimmer’s dream.

Because we were lodged about 15 minutes in almost any direction from the coast, we had good reason to sample beaches throughout the easy-to-traverse island.

Exploring more than half a dozen of them in seven days, we discovered that Martha’s Vineyard may be compact, but it offers beaches to meet almost anyone’s cravings: sandy-bottomed or rocky; cold water or warm; child-friendly or roiling.

We also discovered that with enough space and enough activities, we could all get along just swimmingly.

On ferry day, our landing party consisted of my family of four; Steve’s equal-sized brood; another brother, Marc; and my mother and stepfather. Later in the week an aunt and uncle joined us.

The 85-mile drive to Cape Cod from Boston, where all but my immediate family live, took less than two hours on a misty late June morning, far less time than on midsummer getaway days.

We gladly paid $208 to transport a minivan and a station wagon across the five-mile Vineyard Sound. That way we would never risk remaining landlocked on a hot afternoon or even have to be ferried in waves to the beach.

The best advice for summer travelers is to book car ferry reservations many months ahead for the day you need, even if the specific departure time is bad. Then be prepared to call back repeatedly to get better times. The natives are used to it, and it works.

Courtesy of the persistent efforts of my sister-in-law, Hedda, an early morning reservation and a late evening reservation were finally melded into two midafternoon reservations on the same boat. After squeezing the vehicles aboard, we relaxed on deck for the calm, 45-minute ferry trip.

From the deck, details of the compact, leafy island came quickly into view. Although only 20 miles long, it includes a variety of environments, from the quaint New England town of Edgartown to Menemsha, a quintessential fishing village where Vineyard lobstermen deliver their catch, and from the serene woods of the interior to the crashing waves of the ocean-side beaches.

When we arrived, one sticky detail remained: Who would stay in which house? TV seemed to mark the line in the sand.

Brother Marc and 5-year-old nephew Jason wanted nonstop sports. My wife, Iris, preferred the TV off. There was a suggestion we should designate one structure the girls’ house and the other the boys’ house. Although the idea was nixed, it more or less worked out that way anyhow because of the vagaries of modern technology: When Marc realized the cable in the bigger house wasn’t working, he bailed out and headed to the other, nephew in tow. The two surfaced for meals and swimming excursions but were otherwise happy to hang out at the smaller house, visions of Red Sox lulling them to sleep.

The first morning on the island was hot and humid. We packed tuna and turkey sandwiches, the first of dozens we would make that week, and headed for the water. For our debut trip, we decided to take the easiest approach--the popular Joseph A. Sylvia Beach, a two-mile stretch of open shore along the state road running between Oak Bluffs and Edgartown. Sylvia Beach, which is on Nantucket Sound, is decidedly family-friendly--gently sloped, with warm waters lapping onto a sandy shore.

Free parking along the main road left us only a few yards from where we set down our towels. It was a joy for the children and their parents. Moreover, the length of the beach, which has lifeguards on the Edgartown side, meant there was ample room for such Kennedyesque pursuits as tossing footballs along the shore.

Later that day, back in West Tisbury, we launched two kayaks (brought by Steve) into murky Tisbury Great Pond and paddled all the way to an unprotected ocean beach, where Atlantic waves crashed menacingly onto the sands.

The next morning we again assembled sandwiches, threw them into coolers and jumped into the cars. This time we were bound for Menemsha. The town features seafood restaurants, an overpriced antiques store and a beach. Although we had great fried clams at a small clam shack called the Bite, we dubbed Menemsha Public Beach the “Beach of Pain” because of the cold water and the rocks and shells that made a run for the water feel more like a trip over broken glass. The parking limit, three hours, seemed a blessing.

We returned to Menemsha to eat more clams, but we kept our shoes on and our swimsuits in the car.

At midweek we undertook our biggest expedition, taking the tiny ferry to Chappaquiddick.

We were surprised when we got to the landing in Edgartown to board the “On Time.” It holds only three cars for a trip that takes just a couple of minutes. You could almost spit a watermelon seed clear across the bay--the same stretch that Sen. Edward M. Kennedy (D-Mass.) said he swam after the auto accident in 1969 in which 28-year-old Mary Jo Kopechne died.

Arriving at the ferry around 10:30 a.m., we happily drove right onto the boat, congratulating ourselves for getting out of the house so early that we missed all the traffic. We hadn’t noticed a second line of cars that should have gone on ahead of us. People were apparently too polite to scream as we paid our $5-per-car fee.

Once on Chappaquiddick and somewhat embarrassed, it took us only a couple of minutes to reach the turnoff for the infamous Dike Bridge. We drove across it not for purposes of political research but because it is the entry point to East Beach, a seven-mile barrier beach that is part of the Cape Poge Wildlife Refuge.

We paid the $4 per adult at a booth where attendants keep a laminated copy of 3-decade-old Ted Kennedy headlines to help answer the inevitable questions. From there we lugged our beach chairs and coolers across a sand dune to the pristine shore.

As at Sylvia, the water was warm, the waves and breezes gentle. But here, bathers were few and far between because the sand went on seemingly forever. It was deserted enough to feel practically private.

Before heading back toward Edgartown, we also checked out the Wasque Reservation, another idyllic beach among the dunes, with stronger Atlantic waves.

It was now 4 p.m., rush hour for the ferry. We waited nearly an hour to get back across to Edgartown--again, three cars at a time.

During peak vacation season, it’s much easier to visit Chappaquiddick (or “Chappy,” as the locals call it) by bicycle as long as you’re not packing young children or beach coolers.

The next two days, we split up by beach preferences. Marc wanted heavy surf and water deep enough for snorkeling, so he went to the south-facing beaches of West Tisbury and Aquinnah, the town that boasts the Gay Head Cliffs and lighthouse--a favorite sunset viewing spot. At West Tisbury he got more than he bargained for, his face mask and fins knocked right off his body and taken away by the pounding surf.

Steve and I drove the four young children to Uncle Seth’s Pond, the island’s only public freshwater beach, between Vineyard Haven and West Tisbury on Lambert’s Cove Road.

The old-fashioned swimming hole has bathwater temperatures, chirping crickets, a sandy shore and floating weeds. Just as at East Beach, there were few other bathers--but for a different reason. There are about five legal parking spaces within walking distance of the pond, so unless you get there early or take public transportation, you’re out of luck.

We were lucky and found a spot. But Seth’s Pond also will live in our memories because it was there that we witnessed an extraordinary act of police benevolence: When one car was deemed illegally parked by the Vineyard police officer whose job it is to oversee such matters, he walked over to each bather trying to find the owner. Unsuccessful, he was seen walking off, muttering, “Well, I guess I have to write a ticket.” We almost felt sorry for him.

That evening we concluded the ongoing birthday celebration for my mother with a fine dinner of lobsters and steamers that we cooked up in the larger of the two vacation homes. Instead of birthday cake, we bought scrumptious homemade blueberry-peach and strawberry-rhubarb pies from Eileen Blake’s stand, along the state road between Vineyard Haven and West Tisbury.

It was now our final full day on the island, and we decided to go swimming together one last time. So we returned to Sylvia, the beach that offered the most for everyone. Marc snorkeled, the kids splashed, Steve and I tossed Frisbees with Hedda and Iris, and my mother and stepfather sat in beach chairs at the water’s edge, beaming with pride over their extended family.

In the afternoon we split up, my family heading to Edgartown and Oak Bluffs on a T-shirt shopping spree. Edgartown, with its tiny brick and clapboard buildings, also houses many fancy boutiques, several jewelry stores--such as Chica on North Water Street--that sell one-of-a-kind pieces, and first-class restaurants such as Alchemy, where we dined one night on lobster pie.

Oak Bluffs, with its teeny, colorful gingerbread houses looking out at the beachfront, has the look of a Victorian Lilliput. The homes were built on the site of a religious campground, using as their foundations the concrete slabs that once housed tents. They are vividly painted, and rocking chairs abound on the many porches. The shops are touristy but fun to roam through.

Later in the afternoon we headed back toward our houses. But as we passed Lambert’s Cove Road, our car seemed to tug to the right. I looked at my wife as the kids yelled “Let’s go swimming!” and she shrugged, knowing this was a battle not worth fighting.

I turned the wheel and headed back toward Uncle Seth’s Pond for one last dip. Arriving shortly before the beach’s 6 p.m. closing time, we noticed three cars parked along the roadway. That meant there was enough room for us. We also noticed that one of those vehicles looked familiar. It was Steve’s minivan. He and his family had also decided to make a last stop at the old swimming hole.

For a few more minutes, we tossed Frisbees as the children frolicked, laughing, yelling and splashing. The sounds and spirit of childhood emanated both from the setting and from a new generation of our family. We set the camera on the self-timer and took one last photo.

Thomas Wolfe wrote that you can’t go home again. But here at the pond, it sure felt as if you could.

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Guidebook: To Martha’s Vineyard

Getting there: From LAX to Boston, nonstop service is offered on American, United and Delta, direct service on Northwest and US Airways. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $335. Cape Air flies to Martha’s Vineyard; restricted round-trip fares begin at $165.

From Boston, travelers can also reach Martha’s Vineyard by road and sea. Ferry service is available from locales including Falmouth, Hyannis and New Bedford. The most frequent service, on boats that carry cars as well as passengers and bicycles, leaves from Woods Hole and is run by the Steamship Authority; (508) 477-8600 or (508) 693-9130, www.islandferry.com. The cost during the peak summer season is $11 adult round trip; $5.50 for children ages 5-12; $6 per bicycle; $110 per car. Reservations for cars crossing during peak season should be made well in advance.

Car rentals are available on the island, including Hertz at the Martha’s Vineyard airport and Budget in Oak Bluffs, in Vineyard Haven and at the airport.

Where to stay: Accommodations ranging from resort hotels to rental houses to bed-and-breakfasts are available, with prices skyrocketing during the summer months.

Listings for hotels and real estate agencies specializing in housing rentals are available through the Martha’s Vineyard Chamber of Commerce Web site, www.mvy.com.

Among the companies that specialize in housing rentals are Martha’s Vineyard Vacation Rentals, (800) 556-4225, www.mvvacationrentals.com; and Linda R. Bassett Real Estate, (800) 338-1855, www.mvinfo.com.

Houses can run anywhere from $2,500 to $6,000 and up per week during the height of the summer season.

Short-term accommodations: The Wesley Hotel, 70 Lake Ave., Oak Bluffs, MA 02557; (508) 693-6611, fax (508) 693-5389, www.wesleyhotel.com. Summer rates: $185-$230 double. The Harborside Inn, 3 S. Water St., Edgartown, MA 02539; (800) 627-4009, fax (508) 627-7566, www.theharborsideinn.com. Summer rates: $240-$370 double. The Winnetu Inn, 31 Dunes Road, Edgartown, MA 02539; (978) 443-1733, fax (508) 627-4749, www.winnetu.com. Summer rates, double (three-night minimum): three nights from $1,500, four nights from $2,000, seven nights from $3,200.

One good source for information on hotels is www.destinationinsider.com/vineyard.

Where to eat: The island has a variety of restaurants ranging from fancy sit-down dining to informal picnic-table snacking.

In Edgartown, a good bet for a nice night out is Alchemy, 71 Main St., (508) 627-9999. The outdoor tables on the second floor are a delight, as are such dishes as rare grilled tuna on corn and crab succotash. Dinner entrees $26-$34.

In Menemsha, try the Bite, (508) 645-9239, a simple shack specializing in fried clams and other fried seafood. Fried clams $9.95-$31.95 (for a quart); fried shrimp about $1 apiece; fish sandwich $4.50.

Dinner options in Menemsha include Homeport, 512 North Road, (508) 645-2679, dinner $26-$46; and the Beach Plum Inn, 50 Beach Plum Lane, (508) 645-9454, www.beachpluminn.com, prix-fixe dinner $68, a la carte entrees $32-$39.

For more information: The Martha’s Vineyard Chamber of Commerce in Vineyard Haven, (508) 693-0085, www.mvy.com.

Massachusetts Office of Travel and Tourism, 10 Park Plaza, Suite 4510, Boston, MA 02116; (800) 227-MASS (227-6277) or (800) 447-MASS (for brochures only), fax (617) 973-8525, www.massvacation.com.

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Paul Feldman, a deputy metro editor at The Times, grew up in Boston but opted to stay in the girls’ house because he gave up on the Red Sox after Game 6 of the 1986 World Series.