Found at the bend of the Cape, positioned a bit halfway towards the fist of Provincetown, you’ll find Chatham.
And a few evenings in June, myself as well, while accompanying my wife to an event for her work at the Chatham Bars Inn. Harbor views stretched out from the Inn’s deck where working boats bob in the gentle heave of the ocean tide. The Inn stands on a bluff or maybe a developed and sodded dune, with its gray shingles huddled against the wide blue backdrop of the Atlantic and the ribbon of sky beneath opaque white clouds.
The Inn is somewhat peculiar. Old grandeur draped over it, but patched with new threading, somewhere between reclaimed sea captain’s quarters and coastal grandma chic, both cozy and fresh — like a laundered favorite sweater.
