Posts Tagged ‘Chatham Bars Inn’

Great time at the Chatham Bars Inn!

Monday, February 9th, 2009

Ever the local, I’d never been to the town of Chatham on Cape Cod, and so a mini-weekend at the Chatham Bars Inn seemed slightly exotic, even though it was a whopping 90 minutes from Boston, a straight shot on the Mid-Cape Highway from our cluttered house with unfinished projects and the call of the laptop, to the total serenity of a cottage by the sea. We arrived at lunch-ish on an overcast Saturday. The curved sweep of the brick driveway, the huge covered porch, the snow on the beach, Adirondack chairs in the winter glaze, and a fire in the tavern.

I had two glasses of wine at lunch (definitely weekend behavior) followed by a deep tissue massage at the zippy lavender and green co-ed zen-like spa, nestled next to the golf course, (ask for Diane!). After the massage, to complete the “experience” I took a sauna and steam shower. Mike had a nap.

As I walked back from the spa, I waved to a gaggle of ladies, bonding in black tank suits in the outdoor hot tub, steam rising from their shoulders, snow mounds as close as their fingertips. We checked into our cottage –the Beach House––private decks, a living room and bedroom, two baths, and a Nespresso machine. (Did I forget the two flat screens?) But the gem is the view of the beach, the ocean channel (England to the right, P’town to the left), the public fish pier, and the winter sky at sunset. Dinner at the hotel–elegant but not over the top. Mike found a pearl in his Wellflleet oyster. He secured it in the cap of his ever-present fountain pen. Slow roasted swordfish, perfect local scallops. Favorite touch: the mini desserts. Tiny creme brulee, mini cheesecake. Just enough for a bite or two.

Back across the road to our beach front cottage, with the taste of sweet and sea in our mouths, and the on-shore salt air stiffening our senses. The moon is out. And the sky is clearing. We can see the big dipper from our deck.

Sunday morning lazy. Watching the talking heads and drinking espresso. Ambling over to the Inn for a brunch of lobster frittattas and fresh berries. Have we only been here 24 hours? Next time, more time. Two nights, more spa, more walks on the beach. Maybe the walk with the naturalist? A gem, an escape. A winter bargain, an escape only a few hours from home.