Cape Ann, Massachusetts: A charming alternative to Cape Cod with sandy beaches and fried clams

ROCKPORT, Mass. – You could battle the traffic out of Boston onto Cape Cod, or you could come to Cape Ann.

You could join the throngs on long, crowded beaches on Cape Cod, or you could find a little spot all to yourself on Cape Ann.

You could try to find something undiscovered on Cape Cod, or you could come to Cape Ann – which, even to a large swath of New England natives – might as well be stamped “terra incognita” on the map.

Just under an hour’s drive – or a little more than an hour’s train ride – northeast of Boston, Cape Ann is a smaller version of Cape Cod. 

It has the same Atlantic vistas, sandy beaches, seaside eateries and colonial history as its better-known neighbor, but a much rockier coastline, artists’ colonies, the birthplace of fried clams and a graceful, settled charm in a more compact space that has drawn knowing travelers, from poets to painters to presidents, since the 19th century and quite a few film productions since the 20th.

Cape Ann is delineated by a city and three towns.

Rockport clings to the easternmost part of Cape Ann. Neighboring Gloucester, the great fishing city, occupies the rest of what amounts to a large island. Across the Annisquam River (actually a tidal cut), the town of Essex nestles in a marshscape while Manchester-by-the-Sea embraces the sea from its snug little harbor.

Rockport, where I have been going since I was tiny, has changed little over the decades and is one of the prettiest towns in America. 

Rockport’s scenic main harbor is dominated by an old, brick-red fish shack known as Motif No. 1, so named because it was reputed to be the most-painted building in the country.

The original building dated to 1840, but it largely was replaced after destruction in the devastating blizzard of 1978.

Motif’s wharf is connected to Bearskin Neck, a quaint stretch of shops, restaurants and some private homes that has taken its share of beatings from storms over the centuries. The place gets its name from the exploits of settler John Babson. This ditty tells the tale: “Babson, Babson, killed a bear! With his knife, I do declare!” The scene is depicted in a panel that hangs outside The Pewter Shop. 

The tip of the Neck is a magnificent spot to survey the town and the rugged coast. Seagulls soar overhead, cormorants dive like missiles for fish, ducks paddle bravely near the barnacled rocks and the occasional seal wanders by. Some miles out to sea, beyond an old breakwater, the misty spouts of whales make rare and treasured appearances.

In all seasons, Rockport’s little streets beckon walkers to the soundtrack of the tinkling of boat tackle in the harbor, the hourly gong of the Congregational Church’s bell and cries of birds from land and sea.

The late Boston Globe columnist Jeremiah Murphy lived in Rockport and endured the commutes to the newsroom for decades. His obituary included his explanation for why he stayed at the tip of Cape Ann: ''If you live in Rockport, you are awakened sometimes by the screeching seagulls flying over the house, and on some nights, if the wind is just right, you fall asleep to the sound of a foghorn in from Thacher's Island. They are nice sounds."   

All along Bearskin Neck, out into the town’s Dock Square and along its Main Street, art galleries summon with paintings, photographs and sculptures. 

There was a time when natives and art critics decried the sameness and pedestrian nature of seascapes and boats, boats, boats. But today’s art community is diverse in subject matter, media and technique.

Rockport now also is a mecca for musicians. In 2010, the Shalin Liu Performance Center opened. Its stunning performance hall, with a glass wall behind the stage that frames the sea, is home to the Rockport Chamber Music Festival and throughout the year draws major names in classical, folk, rock, jazz and blues music.

In the 1850s, Hannah Jumper and her temperance allies hatcheted Rockport’s beer barrels and turned the town dry. Not until 2006 were restaurants finally allowed to serve alcohol. 

The thirsty now enjoy waterside scenery from a number of vantage points with excellent local fare: the Fish Shack, My Place by the Sea, Ellen’s Harborside, the Red Skiff and Feather & Wedge, to name a few. 

At Brothers Brew, Norwegian coffee bread is a must. The Ice Cream Store overlooking the outer harbor offers peppermint stick ice cream all summer long. If you are eating a hot dog at Top Dog on Bearskin Neck when the Boston Red Sox hit a home run, your meal is free. For the kids, stroll over to Roy Moore Lobster Co. on the Neck and peer into the tanks full of live lobsters.

Rockport’s July 4th is a throwback: a parade that half the town is in, followed at night by a huge bonfire, topped by an outhouse with a half-moon door. The flames can been seen far out to sea.

South of town, two granite lighthouses shine from Thacher Island – the only operating twin lights in the country and Rockport’s official symbol.   

A leisurely drive along Route 127 north of Rockport’s center is a winding tour of little harbors and inlets. At Plum Cove, a small beach – rarely crowded – offers a stunning view of Ipswich Bay and the hazy outline of the distant shore. At Annisquam, you will find a little hamlet that is part of Gloucester but a distinctive community of historic buildings surrounded by water.

Gloucester’s fishing trawlers and the swordfish boats made famous in “The Perfect Storm” share the tight harbor with sailboats and even small cruise ships.

Gloucester’s Main Street has seen a rebirth, with boutiques, specialty shops, antique dealers and restaurants moving in to join long-established institutions. 

I always stop at Virgilio’s, an Italian bakery and deli that fills the street with smells of its pizzas and breads. Dogtown Books, with a strong Gloucester focus, is always worth a stop. Mystery Train Records, one of the largest LP and CD stores north of Boston, will help you part with a few dollars.

Gloucester also is home to fish-processing companies, and on days when the breading for fried fish is being cooked, the city smells like a giant bread toaster.

About 10,000 Gloucester fishermen have died at sea. On South Stacy Boulevard overlooking the entrance to Gloucester Harbor stands the famous statue of a fisherman, braced at the wheel of his vessel against a storm. The Gloucester Fisherman’s Memorial is dedicated to “they that go down to the sea in ships.” A more recent memorial has been placed nearby honoring the fishermen’s wives.

At the Crow’s Nest, a very local bar that features in “The Perfect Storm,” photos of the six men lost on the Andrea Gail and the actors who portrayed them are on the walls. Knowing the bar’s earlier reputation as a, shall we say, rough place, a buddy and I a few years ago cautiously ventured in.

“Hi Hon, what can I get you?” the woman behind the bar greeted us. We ordered the local craft beer, Fisherman’s Ale, and it was all smooth sailing.

The blue-topped towers of Our Lady of Good Voyage Church dominate a hill in the city. Inside, ship models made by local fishermen hang from the ceiling.

To watch the comings and goings in the harbor, my favorite spot is the Seaport Grille, which has an outside deck and perfect fish tacos.

Nearby Rocky Neck is one of the nation’s oldest art colonies. 

The light around Gloucester and environs has entranced painters from Winslow Homer to Edward Hopper. Gloucester also was home to one of the greatest of all maritime painters, Fitz Hugh Lane, whose house stands on a hill above the harbor. Many of his works are on display at the Cape Ann Museum on Gloucester’s Pleasant Street.

In late June, St. Peter’s Fiesta takes over the city. A religious celebration that also honors Gloucester’s fishing heritage, the fiesta includes a large, multi-day street fair and the hilarious Greasy Pole Contest, in which participants attempt to retrieve a flag from the end of a slick telephone pole hung over the water.

Essex is a former boat-building town that now calls itself the nation’s antique capital. Debatable, but there are a couple dozen antique dealers along the main road.

You may find something you did not know you wanted at the White Elephant, an eclectic shop with a bit of everything: books, framed prints, animal heads, old toys, furniture, you name it.

But, really, Essex is the capital of fried clams, invented here by Lawrence “Chubby” Woodman at the half-joking suggestion of a customer on July 3, 1916. The delicacy was an instant hit. 

Woodman’s often is jammed during the summer, but there are other options, such as my favorite, J.T. Farnhams, overlooking the marshes and clam flats. Farnhams' crafts a lovely, light batter on tender clams that, with fries and onion rings, are culinary perfection.

Manchester, too, has antique stores, though not anywhere near the count in Essex. Its harbor is largely surrounded by a park instead of shops and restaurants. Determined to separate itself from its New Hampshire counterpart, the town goes by “Manchester-by-the-Sea,” although that is not its official name.

Manchester’s most famous attraction is Singing Beach. People get off the trains from Boston and walk, with beach chairs over their shoulders and coolers at their sides, to the beach where, by scuffing their feet, people can make the sand “sing,” although to me it sounds more like squeaking.

One of New England’s finer shops for used books, Manchester By the Book, is in the town’s center. 

Cap a lazy afternoon by following the locals across the railroad tracks to Captain Dusty’s Ice Cream, where you can take your scoops with “jimmies” (NEVER “sprinkles” up here) into Masconomo Park and sit under the trees overlooking the harbor.

James R. Carroll is the Washington bureau chief of Capital News Service at the University of Maryland’s Philip Merrill College of Journalism.