ABOVE Cape Cod isn’t an idealized, sandy version of the American dream. Looking for a place where the sun is always shining, and rich and beautifully tan people in vintage SUVs choke down lobster rolls while waving to passing sailboats? I know the spot. It’s a hundred miles south, at the tip of Long Island. It’s called the Hamptons. A local checks the glassy, notoriously shallow waters of Cotuit Bay for any sign of late-night action. Seemingly serene, the harbor is a hotbed with the incoming and outgoing tides, as fish move in and out of the connected bays and rivers through one of only two narrow exits. THE FLYFISH JOURNAL 073
The Flyfish Journal Volume Eight, Issue Four: Page 73
