A bottle of red, a bottle of white, we barely could pay to spend the night*

The Hamptons.  Montauk.  Sag Harbor.  These are places associated with Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, not Dukes of Hazzard.  But we’re not ashamed of who we are, so Tumbleweed pulled in to Sag Harbor proudly flying a Tennessee Orange Vol Navy flag, much like the Clampetts when they loaded up the truck and they moved to Beverly.  Hills, that is.  Swimming pools.  Movie stars.

Sag Harbor is another cute town with shops and restaurants, but everything in all of them is priced outrageously.

$31 for chips and salsa at the taco joint?  Can’t get much more outrageous than that.  Chips and salsa should be bottomless and free and also should be accompanied by Chuy’s jalapeño cilantro dip.  In fact, it’s downright un-American for Mexican restaurants to charge for chips.  But that doesn’t make the town less cute.

Cavaniola’s is a wine shop.  By itself that’s not very noteworthy, but before becoming a place where one might purchase a bottle of wine for roughly twenty times what that same bottle goes for at the Total Wines & More near the corner of Scottsdale Road and Shea Boulevard, it barracked British troops during the Revolutionary War.   Presumably—as the oldest structure in Sag Harbor—“Umbrella House” as it’s known locally, served some other purposes between then and now although we don’t know what they were.

In order to be close to town, we docked at the Sag Harbor Yacht Club, which has exactly nothing in common with the Schenectady Yacht Club except that both are in New York.  The clubhouse was so swanky we didn’t dare go in except to take a photo.

Just across from the marina is a house owned by an Angry Young Man from Allentown who became a Big Shot.  That’s right, Billy Joel fans, we were close enough to steal his patio furniture if we were that kind of people and had room on the boat to hide it once we got it over the railing.

The yacht club’s strict “no drone” policy—which we know about only because an employee yelled at Doug—seems silly since the park is about a hundred yards away and provides a perfect place to take off and land.

Just before untying yesterday, we noticed a huge American flag being hoisted by fire trucks.  Turns out we caught the annual ride through New York by the Red Knights International Firefighters Motorcycle Club.  Now that’s way cool.

Unfortunately they ran over our dog, but we wanted a family photo so we just picked him up and went with it.

Despite the lolling tongue Oscar isn’t really deceased, of course, and although we’d like to say playing dead is one of his party tricks, the fact is he’s just weird.

Then out north through Gardiners Stinking Bay again, but this time it wasn’t quite as bad.  Plum Gut?  Well timed.  No problemo.  Straight across the Sound to Old Saybrook.  Which is in Connecticut.  Here’s a map.

Hey that’s the Saybrook Breakwater Light!

This lighthouse is notable for having its likeness on Connecticut’s environmental license plates.  It’s also notable because the navigation section of the Coast Guard 50-Ton Master’s exam uses Long Island Sound paper charts and about 50% of the test questions involved Saybrook Breakwater Light as a reference point, so Doug viewed it as an old friend.

After docking, we shuttled into town and wound up at The Rabbit Hole in time to watch the Cardinals back into a win over the Vikings.  Our kind of place.  Nobody gave us Clampetts a second look, even after we hijacked the virtual jukebox with an eclectic playlist that ranged from Meatloaf to the Showband of the Southwest.  Now that’s a hell of a wide range.

Although today was a sad day because the girls left us, we still got a good sunrise sort of across the Connecticut River.  We don’t have too many of these left before we flee the approaching winter.  Luckily they’re starting to happen later in the morning, which increases the chances we’ll get to enjoy them.

Shannon and Mallory scootered to town for breakfast this morning, seemingly with no concern that their aging parents were walking.  But it’s all about the kids, right?

We don’t mind though, because any time we get with them is well worth the walk.  But then they left us.

After we stopped grieving we took the scooters around Old Saybrook ourselves, winding up at Fort Saybrook Park.

Fort Saybrook played an instrumental role in the Pequot Wars, which were triggered by the native Pequot Indians having the temerity to object to English settlers setting up shop in the area the Pequots considered home.  Apparently nobody told them, however, that attacking people who have harnessed the combined power of lead and gunpowder—when you haven’t—potentially will lead to extinction.  Which it did.  If any Pequots had survived perhaps they’d be honored that history named the wars after them, but since they didn’t we kind of assume the name “Pequot Wars” really is intended to make sure everyone knows it all was their fault.  We do suspect that any surviving Pequots might’ve found it funny that after the pretty park with the informational signs was finished, archeologists determined that in fact Fort Saybrook was about a thousand yards away, at a site now occupied by a nice family in a nondescript white house.

Then back to the marina, which is attached to the hotel which two weeks ago was a filming location for Next Stop, Christmas.  Next Stop, Christmas is a Hallmark movie that we’re guessing involves either a lovelorn man who doesn’t believe in the magic of Christmas or a lovelorn woman who does.  Either way, now we have to lay in a goodly supply of tissue paper and watch it.

The point is, even with the girls leaving us we’ve really enjoyed Old Saybrook, what with no pesky Pequots and all.   Actually these all have been great stops around Long Island Sound.  We’re looking forward to getting to Mystic tomorrow.

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*Not a scene from an Italian restaurant.

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