For the last few summers, my parents have flown up from Texas to visit us in Boston. We’ve walked most of the Freedom Trail, savored Italian dinners in the North End, gone to two Red Sox games at Fenway (sadly, we’ve been rained out both times), and wandered Harvard Square. This year, we decided to do something a bit different, and explore Rockport, a charming little town on Boston’s North Shore.
J and I had been up to Rockport before – some friends of ours live there, and we’ve enjoyed visiting them. But this was Mom and Dad’s first time in Rockport, and it was utterly lovely.
I drove up with my parents on a Thursday afternoon (J had to work, and joined us later that night). We checked in at the Eagle House Motel, a basic but charming hotel just off Main Street. We loved the location – it was so close to everything – and the friendly innkeeper, Gary, gave us several great restaurant recommendations.
We spent part of the afternoon wandering Bearskin Neck, a narrow spit of land crammed with shops and restaurants – lobster shacks, ice cream stands and a couple of sit-down eateries. Such fun to poke into lots of different places.
We ended up, not surprisingly, at the charming Toad Hall Bookstore, housed in an old bank building.
There’s a narrow spiral staircase leading up to a loft area (which houses used books) and down to the basement (which is the children’s section). It’s a small place, but I could have browsed for a long time. (I bought a novel set in Paris, and scored a vintage Georgette Heyer hardcover at the tiny used bookshop down the street.)
We had dinner that night at the 7th Wave, down on the wharf, and Dad got his lobster fix. You can’t get seafood like this in West Texas.
We ate on the rooftop deck, and this was our view:
I didn’t take a picture of my oysters, but they were delicious, and the lobster bisque was divine.
After dinner, we walked back down to the water to watch the sunset.
And to take a family selfie.
The next morning, after coffee and pastries at Brothers Brew (the scones!), we wandered through town a bit more, then drove up to Halibut Point State Park. There’s an old quarry, now filled with water, and rimmed by rocks which J had to climb.
J and I also love the park because it gives us a chance to retell our favorite Fozzie Bear joke.
I’d only been to the park in the winter before (it feels like standing on the edge of the world), but the views in summer are just as stunning. That’s New Hampshire over there.
Alasdair Fraser and Natalie Haas (a Scottish fiddler and an American cellist, respectively) brought down the house.
We tapped our toes and clapped along to Highland reels, and sat mesmerized as they both drew haunting, complex melodies from their bows. As you can see, the back of the stage is a window onto the harbor, complete with boats, gulls and even baby ducks. Between the music, the company and the view, it was an amazing night.
We headed back to Boston the next morning, but not before discovering that Mom and I were inadvertently matching. (We did not plan these outfits.)
I snapped a photo with my sweet husband to cap off the trip.
All in all, a fabulous two days. Rockport, you were lovely. We’ll be back.