It's Memorial Day weekend on Cape Cod and we find ourselves standing in a little tea shop located on Route 6a. Also known as Old King's Highway, Route 6a is a picturesque, winding road lined with leafy trees, historic buildings, tiny cottages, cranberry bogs, and the occasional glimpse of Cape Cod Bay. It's an incredibly scenic road with every turn around a bend bringing forth a new delight, and we feel lucky to live so nearby it.

Route 6a runs along the northern part of Cape Cod through some of the oldest villages in the United States. Today our drive along it has taken us to Brewster, a charming town founded by sea captains. In fact, so many sea captains lived in Brewster it was nicknamed "America's Sea Captains Town" at some point. Originally settled in the 1650's when it was part of another town on the Cape, Brewster came into its own in 1803. (While readers from Europe won't be impressed with those years, the 1650's are pretty darn old for America. Go us.)

We'd been exploring bits of Brewster for over an hour before stumbling into the tea shop. In truth, the tea shop wasn't our destination – we had only pulled into the parking lot to do a u-turn. But a sign advertising fresh herbs caught our eye and so into the tea shop we went. Checking out the thyme and the basil, we finally found a price for each plant and proceeded to have minor heart attacks. Given we're fairly new to gardening (and brand new to planting herbs), we agreed we couldn't spend that much money on what would probably be a gardening experiment. (Though the plants were rather nice.)

The rest of the tea store was a mixture of hippy medicine, fantastic smelling soaps and lotions, tea (of course), and (for some unknown reason) little baby chicks happily chirping in a pen. Making our way from the chicks over to the tea, Tim spotted part of a maté gourd. Maté, a drink we enjoyed in Argentina, is something we've missed since returning home. Unfortunately, while the store had maté leaves and the bombilla (straw) to drink it with, it didn't have the necessary gourd. (Although perhaps the baby chicks could have been hallowed out? Thankfully, we'll never know.)

Encouraged that maté might be something in our future, Tim and I waved goodbye to the baby chicks and headed on our way. Although there are many interesting sights to see and antique shops to browse through in Brewster, we were content driving around, just seeing where the road would take us.

Not soon after departing the tea shop, we jumped off Route 6a for just a bit and noticed a rather large body of water to our right. And then again on our left. And then again on our right. Turning onto the next smallish road we came across, we found ourselves at a tiny beach overlooking the water. Consulting his atlas, Tim realizes we've stumbled across Long Pond.

As it turns out, Long Pond – aptly named due to its shape – is not only the largest pond in Brewster but the largest pond on the Cape, covering over 740 acres. (One wonders if "pond" is the right word choice at that size?) Long Pond, we would later find out, is also one of the many "kettle ponds" on the Cape. When the glaciers so kindly created Cape Cod thousands of years ago, they deposited chunks of ice which would eventually melt and form the kettle ponds.

Glaciers and ice thankfully absent during our visit, we dug our toes into the sand, snacked on some sandwiches, and watched the waves splash onto shore. Tim, ever the adventurer, took a spin on the vacant life guard's chair. And we both admired the rickety boat docks that were scattered about the lake, taking turns imagining what it might be like to enjoy a cool beer sitting on one of them while dangling our feet into the water.

Our tummies full from snacking, it was time to hit the road again in search of new daydreams. And with our car windows down (the first time this Spring we've been able to do so), we left the shores of Long Pond to continue to explore Brewster.

Tootling east along Route 6a, you're hard pressed not to notice the little streets on the left. And as you tootle east along Route 6a – a bit away from the road but always there – Cape Cod Bay also lies to the left. A smart traveler may deduce that taking one of those little streets on the left would lead you to the beach. Nine times out of ten, that smart traveler would be right.

Taking our chances with a street named "Seaway Street" (and ignoring the sign next to it that said "No Beach Access"), we turned left onto the rather tiny road that quickly turned from pavement into sand. (It should be noted: Cape Codders will often fib about where you can gain access to a beach if said fibbing will prevent droves of tourists from driving down their quiet streets. Now you know too. Just don't tell anyone who told you.)

Barely wide enough for one car, let alone two, Seaway Street had a fair share of speed bumps encouraging drivers to drive only 10 mph. But we didn't need any encouraging: Seaway Street, as it turned out, was a treasure. Lining each side of it were the typical Cape Cod cottages that we adore so much – covered in wood shingles and knickknacks – and we enjoyed any excuse to drive slowly so we could peek at them one by one.

While driving on Seaway Street, we passed adorably named roads like Pilot's Way, Skipper's Way, and (my personal favorite) Anchors Aweigh Road. Although we were enjoying Seaway Street tremendously, we were beginning to wonder if the "No Beach Access" sign posted at the beginning was, in fact, accurate. But soon enough we came across a "To Beach" sign, pointing us a block further.

Our patience with Seaway Street was duly awarded with a beautiful view of Cape Cod Bay. Parking the car (and ignoring the "residents of Seaway Street only" signs, shhhh), we walked to the rocky overlook to take everything in. The sun, shielded behind clouds, gave the entire bay a silver tone. By the looks of it, the tide had been out for several hours and was in no rush to come back in. And below us the tidal flats of Brewster spread as far as we could see to the west and to the east.

The Brewster flats are one of nature's neat tricks and are reportedly the longest tidal flats (aka mudflats) in North America. Stretching out over a mile into Cape Cod Bay during low tide, the flats give beachcombers numerous opportunities to spy on sea critters. (Of course, if beachcombers don't plan their excursions around the tides, they could find themselves quite wet when the tide comes back in.)

Making our way down the sandy path, we were greeted by the exposed high water mark: a long line of pebbles and rocks, all manner of sizes and colors, between us and the soft flats on the other side. Navigating over them carefully, our feet were rewarded once they touched the tidal flats. Every step felt like our feet were being sucked at a bit. As it turns out, the mudflats were like our own personal masseuse. (Not that a masseuse is in the habit of sucking on a client's toes. That goes to a different profession, of course. But the suction on our feet was rather delightful either way.)

Pleased with our first visit to the flats, we enjoyed watching the families and couples around us. More than a few games of football were taking place, a man slept soundly in his beach chair, and a wedding was being set up a few hundred feet away. Laughter filled the air as often as the seagulls calls above.

Soon enough it was time for us to continue our journey. Over the rocks, up the sandy path, and down the windy road again, we turned left back onto Route 6a. Minutes later, after passing a sign for Nickerson State Park, we decide to take a drive through the woods.

Within minutes the scenery has changed from the leafy canopy that surrounds Route 6a to the tall pine trees found within Nickerson. Although it was Memorial Day weekend – the start of the tourist season on Cape Cod – we were hard pressed to see anyone else in the park. Other than the occasional bike rider following the Cape Cod Rail Trail that cuts through Nickerson, we seemed to be alone.

Enjoying the scenery tremendously, fifteen minutes or so pass before we realized the road we were on just kept going. (Later we'd discover the park has nearly 2,000 acres, so it's no wonder the road kept going.) But it was just about the time we wondered if we were actually driving to New York, the road came to an end.

Although the road itself had ended, it flowed into a camping area called Area 7. Feeling nosy, we drove into Area 7 to see what the local campers were up to. Under the shade of the pines, friends were gathered around fire pits, the family dogs were busy observing wildlife (and seeing if Aunt Betsy had dropped a hot dog), and there were even people playing guitars.

We enjoyed driving slowly through the campers plots, checking out their gear and their camp setups, like veritable camping-peeping-toms. And soon enough, we became convinced that we too needed to buy a tent and camp at the park. No matter that the park was located only a short drive from our house, after seeing the general hubbub and merriment hidden away in Area 7, we were sold.

And that's when we then proceeded to drive through Areas 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, and something named 6 extension too. (We're nothing if not very thorough peeping toms.)

Two hours later, we emerged from Nickerson State Park (with handy park map and price list in hand). We bubbled with excitement about the possibility of camping together. Even if we camped nearby our cottage for just a weekend, we reasoned, it would still feel like a vacation away from it all. And what better way to get some extra traveling in throughout the year without taking precious vacation days away from our international travel?

Winding our way once again along Route 6a we marveled at the world we had seen that day. Memories of kettle ponds, hippy medicine, tidal flats, baby chicks, and singing campers made us smile. The natural beauty of the Cape made us beam. And remembering it was all in our backyard made us positively giddy.