Chatham sits at the elbow of Cape Cod, where the arm bends and the Atlantic comes right up to the doorstep, and it is the sort of village that makes a good case for starting a ride on a weekday morning. The main street is lined with shingled shops, cafes and a bandstand, the houses are grey cedar with white trim, and the harbour is full of working boats. About 1,400 people live here year-round, and West Chatham, a quiet neighbour, has about as many. It is a place for stocking up, grabbing a coffee and a pastry and getting your bearings.
The riding is Cape Cod at its gentlest. Roads wander among salt marshes, ponds and low, scrubby woods, with short straights, easy curves and views of water opening up between the trees. Surfaces are generally good, although summer traffic, bicycles and slow-moving vehicles are a constant, and the speed limits are low and enforced. Heading north up the coast toward Nauset and Wellfleet takes you along the outer beaches, where the road runs close to the dunes and the sea breeze is strong. September and early October are the best months, with warm water, soft light and fewer visitors, while July and August can be crowded.
Chatham's connection to the sea is serious. The Chatham Light, a white tower on the bluff above the beach, has guided ships for more than a century, and the Coast Guard station nearby has performed daring rescues in the shoals offshore, where shifting sandbars have wrecked countless vessels. Down at the Fish Pier, you can watch commercial fishing boats unload their catch, and gulls and seals gather in the hope of scraps. In summer, the town holds Friday evening concerts in the park, a tradition that draws families with folding chairs and ice cream.
Offshore lies Monomoy, a long sandy barrier island that is a national wildlife refuge, home to enormous numbers of shorebirds and grey seals. Boat trips run out to see them, and the seals, which have returned in large numbers in recent decades, have in turn attracted great white sharks, a fact the town handles with a mixture of caution and fascination. The shoreline has changed repeatedly as storms break through the beach and reshape the harbour, and local people keep a close eye on it.
The air smells of salt marsh, pine and fried clams. Fuel is available in town, so top up before you set off, and carry a light jacket for the sea air.