Atlantic Avenue is a winding stretch of highway that runs along the Atlantic coast, connecting the sleepy vacation village of Weekapaug, Rhode Island, with the bustling Misquamicut dining, entertainment, and nightlife district. What each has to offer is a story for another day. This story is about the journey between those two points, a journey that has left vacationers in awe and awe for more than half a century.
Atlantic Avenue begins at Weekapaug Bridge and as you start driving, the only buildings you’ll notice are The New Breachway Market, Seafood Haven and the members-only Seaside Beach Club. Once past this 200-yard stretch, you enter a very different world. Along the north side of the entire stretch of road is Winnapaug Pond with its shallow inlets, seagrass, and an array of beautiful seabirds. It is the south side, the ocean side, of the highway that serves as a talking point for the thousands, if not millions, who have made the journey over the years. The ocean side of Atlantic Avenue is a continuous stretch of money in the form of ‘cabins’.
These so-called cabins make my house and yours look like tool sheds! The tourist (or the curious!) marvels at the unique architecture of each place. Some are old-fashioned New England, while others are ultra-modern with oddly-shaped windows, solar panels, and spiral staircases around the outside. Some roofs have what look like small lighthouses at their peak, while others have top-story decks that look very much like a ship’s crow’s nest. Each cabin is facing the sea, just a few meters from the sand and the surf.
Causeway entrances to these locations are flanked by small lighthouses, ship anchors, or some other nautical theme. The driveway fences here are made not of wood but of nautical rope and it looks like each mailbox post has a lobster pot attached to it. More than one tourist who has seen these tickets has said, “I have to do that to my house when I get home!”
That’s not the only comment made countless times on this journey over the years. We ask ourselves: “Who are these people? Where do they come from? What do they do for a living? How can someone be so rich? If I had a place like this I would stay here all year!”
What adds to the mystery of the Atlantic Avenue cabins is that you never see “these people.” Many of the spots look empty and unused, and if you were to walk down the beach to the other side of these spots, you wouldn’t expect someone to run out the back door yelling, “Hi, I’m Joe, I’m a runner, and I’m the billionaire who owns this place!”
No, the people and their places will always be a mystery. There are often “For Sale” signs on the entrances to houses, which leads us to believe that the owners got fed up with this place and decided to buy something on the French Riviera. A quick check in the local real estate magazine reveals the price. They are always seven figures and the first of the seven figures is rarely a ‘one’.
Suddenly the cabana mansions come to an end and you find yourself once again passing beach parking lots, bath houses, miniature golf courses, an amusement park, shops and restaurants. Come back to reality after two dream miles.