Maybe it's the therapeutic outdoor morning showers, or the privilege of getting the sunrise before anybody else on the east coast, or the simple fact that it is devoid of a tether to whatever "real world" you left behind at Hyannis. Nantucket is magical in the summer. Worry seems to roll off your shoulders, like beads of sweat erratically migrating down your Pimm's Cup.
The island, aside from its locals, is home to an inherently preppy summer colony. It is beloved in part for the geographical fact that it's a pain in the ass to get to. The harder the trek, the preppier the locale. And Nantucket is perhaps the preppiest (edging out Martha's Vineyard and its trailer parks). If you're not flying into ACK, you have to cross the moat to the WASP kingdom via an hour long ferry.
Despite the inconveniences, The Grey lady more than quadruples in size come June. Frankly, it gets crazy around the Fourth. But that's not to say you can't get alone. This secluded beach Fred photographed Alise Shoemaker on a couple years ago is on the South Shore somewhere between Nobadeer and Tom Nevers. It's a great spot if you can find it. Odds are good that you'll have it all to yourself for a picnic, skinny dipping, or whatever else bakes your (crab) cake. As for how to get there exactly, well, it wouldn’t be preppy if we made it that easy.