I don’t know if it’s the perfect weather we’re having or old age sentimentality, but this place is really growing on me. I mean big time! I could live here. Okay, okay. I know I’ve said that before about other places, probably more than once. Guilty as charged. But this time I really mean it. Really.
I’ve heard that Cohasset was stuffy and stuck-up, but for the first time this season, I get a visit from a friendly dude from a neighboring boat.
My wife is off on a kayaking adventure. She found a waterway to explore that’s too shallow even for our dinghy. I make a note to buy myself a kayak so that in the future I can join her, that is, if she wants me too; sometimes it’s nice to go off on your own. I respect that, but I wish I had the option. We used to have a tandem kayak, but it was so difficult to coordinate movements that we stopped using it. Eventually we sold it to a young couple who probably never heard them called divorce kayaks.
Cohasset Village is cute as a button. At Tedeschi’s market, people strike up conversations with me like I was a townie. And it’s contagious. I’m normally not all that talkative, yet I find myself blabbing away with total strangers like we were old buddies. It’s actually kinda freeing.
Cohasset yacht club is exclusive and closed to transient boaters. I can’t even find a phone number on the Active Captain cruising guide. There is no shortage of waterfront mansions either. We are obviously in a wealthy town. But Cohasset has an unusual mix of old and new, rich and not so well off, fancy and plain, and it casts a charming light over everything, enhancing its natural beauty tenfold. There’s a tangible easy-going vibe, a glow, a warmth unlike anywhere else I’ve ever been. It’s not just a place, it’s a state of mind. Cohassetness.