Welcome to the Outer Cape... land of opportunity.

No, not that kind; for those of us who chose to settle here, those who began their lives here, ventured elsewhere and returned for good, and those who never left, it is not for a wealth of job opportunities or a promise of upward mobility. We cherish this narrow land for its other riches. We never tire of exploring them and are forever surprised, as you will be, at their seemingly endless variety. Let this be your guide to these treasures, especially those often hidden to the casual visitor.

Beaches? Yes, of course. The towns of Eastham, Wellfleet, Truro and Provincetown are lavishly endowed with them – ten major ocean beaches, far more if you count those on the bay side and the many coves and tidal flats reachable by bike, off-road vehicle or foot. There are Eastham’s majestic Coast Guard and Nauset, Wellfleet’s Duck Harbor and Newcomb Hollow, Truro’s glorious Longnook, Ballston and Corn Hill, and Provincetown’s glistening Race Point and Herring Cove. There are sandy-bottomed fresh water ponds, perfect for swimming or just floating. Some, like Wellfleet’s Long Pond and Duck Pond, are festive, tourist magnets while others, like Dyer Pond in Wellfleet and Great Pond in Truro, demand a bit of a walk and are more sedate. And there are more secreted ponds, like Wellfleet’s Spectacle, which locals would prefer you didn’t know about. Folks who have nested here for half a century or more are still known to awaken on a perfect summer day and find themselves dizzy with the possibilities of where to enjoy a swim.

The Outer Cape may be synonymous with sand and sea, but slight as it appears on the map, the world contained within its shores offer up a host of hiking and biking trails, quiet rivers perfect for paddling, and other offbeat adventures. The towns that occupy the bent arm of the Cape from elbow to fingertips have four distinct characters. There is Eastham, eternally underrated as so many visitors, passing through it on Route 6, fail to partake of the charms that lie beyond the highway. Even those destined for the National Seashore’s Coast Guard Beach or Nauset Light may be unaware that a venture down any of the lanes heading to Eastham’s sleepy bay side reveals beachfront communities frozen in simpler times. And the Eastham stretch of the Wellfleet to Orleans bike trail is lovely and serene as it skirts an historic cemetery and verdant meadows.

Don’t be deceived by Wellfleet’s woodcut-worthy Main Street, an image of which could appear next to “quaint” in the dictionary. This is a town with its share of soul and cutting edge mischief. The Wellfleet Harbor Actors Theater is a top-notch venue with fare ranging from Pinter and Stoppard to emerging playwrights to some of the best children’s theater on the Cape. An intimate community of raucous politics, poets, novelists and fishermen (see Mary McCarthy’s “A Charmed Life” or Alec Wilkinson’s “Midnights”), Wellfleet can be thick with drama, downright goofy – witness its Fourth of July parade and Oyster Festival – or powerfully unified in spirit, as it was when the town rallied in support of young shell fisherman Caleb Potter, severely injured two summers ago in a skateboarding accident.

With its tiny population and insistent rural character, Truro is sometimes mistaken for a mere bedroom community to Provincetown. Its blink-and-you-miss-it “downtown” is unapologetically bare bones – a post office, a sandwich shop, a fish market, a liquor store. North Truro is a Hopper-esque, downscaled Truro Center. No one comes to Truro primarily to shop. But Truro does have a soul, and three centuries of rich history, as well as an unrivaled summer population of vacationing psychiatrists. (If you feel yourself on the verge of a breakdown in August, get yourself to Longnook Beach.) Despite creeping condo-ism and trophy homes, Truro is a country town. It has working farms, great berry-picking, rustic campgrounds, a thriving public school and a vineyard. In the summer there are free concerts on the green and the Payomet tent offers a program that ranges from the mature and gritty to gleeful toddler fare. Truro is crisscrossed with unmarked wooded trails and dirt lanes that are likely to stay that way. With a cast of eccentric characters (see the late Tom Kane’s “My Pamet”) and semi-reclusive luminaries, Truro offers sweet, lazy beauty from ocean to bay, much of it accessible to the public. Just drive slowly and let the wild turkeys pass.

Outermost but not least is the far flung metropolis of Provincetown. One’s first view of the whitewashed town unfolding along its generous harbor is unforgettable. Developed in the day when shore-whaling was at its peak, Provincetown is now home to a year-round population hovering around 3,500 – a small fraction of what it was in the mid-1800s. That number is said to swell to more than 50,000 in the summer, a diverse and lively invasion that Provincetown embraces in its feisty, colorful style. You can lose yourself in the Commercial Street throngs, or ditch the crowds on a dreamy bike trail through the Province Lands or on a walk along the moors. You can dress up, dress down, wear a tutu, chain mail, ten-inch heels or pasties – and that’s just the men. As cosmopolitan as it is scenic, the town is a feast for wilderness jock and party animal alike. And if you long for near-monastic isolation, you can find that in Provincetown too if you know where to look.

Provincetown is one of those places one needn’t do much at all; many visitors are content to spend hours parked on strategically placed benches, just watching the unceasing parade of people who watch them right back. But if you’re not a bench potato there are a dizzying number of possibilities, including, to name only a few: stage and musical performances at the Provincetown Theater, cabaret shows, the monument and its museum, the pirate museum, intimate theater productions at the Provincetown Inn, the Provincetown Art Association and Museum, art galleries for all passions and tastes, whale watch cruises, sailing, kayaking, biking, surveying the town from a cycle rickshaw or the P-town trolley, moving to thrumming disco at afternoon tea dance, cavorting among the poodles, doodles and schnoodles at the Bark Park. Provincetown is dog heaven.

Whether you’re here for a weekend or an entire season, you have come to a place that embodies the best of the Cape, from beaches to Beech forest, from antique shops to drag shows. We locals may grouse about the traffic but we are truly grateful that you’re here. We may even tell you how to get to Spectacle Pond.

Written by Susan Seligson

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