CAPE MAY — Getting to know a place is just as mysterious a process as getting to know a person, and the older they are the more prepared one should be for surprises.
In a place like Cape May, where the past has been occasionally unearthed, shined up and sold alongside hot dogs and beach umbrellas, it can be easy to think the island is much like an open-air museum: labeled and classified, with no more secrets.
Easy to believe, and wrong — for a place with so much past, spanning the centuries since Dutch whalers first set up camp (and it was a camp at first, or scarcely more than a series of wooden shacks perched alongside moorings for their whaling ships), only some eras have been selected for public consumption, hiding the others under gingerbread and bunting.
Some of these secret places were, for centuries, accessible only by boat. That’s true of Yacht Avenue, the single road connecting the island to a tiny spit of land cradling an even tinier inlet known as Devil’s Reach.
This quietly fascinating spot is hidden in plain sight, more or less: when looking left from the city bridge, the almost-Boathouse Row configuration of little houses on stilts, including the old familiar Coast Guard Auxiliary, form the public-facing side of Yacht Avenue.
What almost no one passing by realizes is that there is an entire secret neighborhood back there, surrounding the original Dutch marina, now encircled by Wawa, Texas Avenue and Harborview Park.
Long before the word yacht meant “rich guy’s boat” it meant trouble: “jachtschip” combined two Dutch words, ship and hunter. Yacht means hunter, specifically the kind who hunts by sea: what in English we call a pirate.
Since passing ships would have had to know this tiny inlet was there to risk the unexpected shoals of Cape May Harbor until it was dredged in the 20th century, this hidden spot surrounded by trees was the safest place to wait if unfriendly sails were on the horizon.
In the middle of the 16th century, when the whaling trade was entering its peak and the word yacht came to mean a fast hunting boat, Devil’s Reach was a place of safety.
Nowadays, Devil’s Reach is an exclusive community of waterfront homes with their own boat slips, bringing the meaning of yacht to its current definition.
The long beige building with white decks and huge arched windows at 1524 Yacht Ave. is like the old sailors’ homes on steroids: long and narrow with the short edge facing the dock and the upper story devoted to views, this building holds more than one home within it.
It’s a showstopper: right on the water, with a brick-paved patio leading to the floating dock, upper-story decks overlooking the street and a rooftop deck for star-gazing, entertaining with a view of the entire harbor or just watching the ships arrive at the Lobster House docks just across the harbor.
Everything about this home has been designed to offer the most luxurious welcome to those who’d rather be at sea but are making the best of it.
The entry to Unit A from the landlubber side is designed to make life simple, with parking space for three including the attached garage space underneath.
On a street as picturesquely narrow as old Yacht Avenue, the space to turn or allow guests to park is very welcome.
Speaking of space, the white-paneled staircase from the angled front door leads up to 2,500 square feet of living space spread across three floors, also accessible by an elevator.
The second floor contains three of the four total bedrooms and two bathrooms, and has its own deck overlooking the avenue and a central sitting room for TV nights or hangouts.
Everything in this home has been updated in the past five years, so to call it turnkey doesn’t do it justice: the rooms are sparkling bright and the baths luxurious, including a black chevron tile in one of the showers that is unexpectedly glamorous, like a boutique hotel adrift among the docklands.
For the most part, they kept a steadier hand on the tiller design-wise, keeping the colors neutral and the atmosphere clean and bright, but every once in a while there are moments where the aesthetic becomes more luxurious than the typical beach house.
On the top floor, all restraint is momentarily lost: cathedral ceilings and tall arched windows surround the open-plan great room, borrowing the feeling of one ship in a forest of masts as the entire docklands spin out around the center of the home.
This center is obviously the kitchen, outfitted in a way professional chefs would envy: Sub-Zero this and Wolf that, and an immense island positioned to give the best views between chopping or gossiping.
This island covers the wine cooler and two other small refrigerators, has seating for six and a sink that faces the larger refrigerator, creating another work triangle in a space that could host a cooking competition and the spectators.
It’s topped with quartz, making it glow in the changing light from the surrounding windows. This is a clean, white space with touches of natural wood in the shelves, floor and hood.
Also on this top floor: the immense sitting area with a huge floating TV screen, entrance to the outside deck, a half-bath for guests and the primary bedroom suite complete with ensuite bath (bringing the total to 3.5).
The deck on this level faces west, with intermittent views of the harbor between old sea cottages and cedar-shingled sentinels, and a staircase around the side of the home leads to the best secret of all: the rooftop deck, with 360 degree views of the harbor, the island, the sunset and the sea.
Should the views of the water not be enough, there is a boat slip of 32 feet just outside so the family or guests can get right back on the water.
What used to be survival is now pure pleasure, and the harbor is ready for anything from a kayak to a yacht fast enough to rattle the steely nerves of an old Dutch whaler.
