Some of my faovrite meals have been al fresco – not necessarily best-prepared or cooked with the freshest, most savory ingredients, mind you – but from the standpoint of pure enjoyment, nothing beats scarfing down food outdoors after a long day on the trail or on the water.
    Perhaps the tastiest dish I ever consumed was a pot of macaroni and cheese that had accidentally toppled onto the snow after an arduous winter climb in blizzard conditions up New Hampshire’s White Mountains. I hastily gobbled the mess like a wild dog before it had a chance to freeze.
    Likewise, no peanut butter and jelly sandwich ever tasted better than the one I savored atop Rainbow Ledge in Maine’s 100-mile Wilderness. I had hoarded it in my pack for a week, waiting for the last day before reaching civilization at Abol Bridge near Mt. Katahdin.
    While hiking in the Swiss Alps some years ago I subsisted more than a week largely on a wheel of Jarlsberg cheese and loaf of walliser roggenbrot – dense, dark bread with a thick crust.
    I supplemented this simple fare whenever I happened upon a mountain hut that served food. Swiss flags flew outside these tiny inns, and my pace quickened when I saw the familiar white cross on red background fluttering in the distance. I did not speak Swiss, and the innkeepers often didn’t speak English, so we settled on French, which I knew well enough only to order the same meal: omelette du fromage et salade de tomate.
    I would sit at a wooden table outside, gazing at the Matterhorn while exulting in a cheese omelet and tomato salad. Ambrosia.
    I thought about those mountainside repasts the other day while seated at an outdoor table at Fin's Café in Groton overlooking Jupiter Cove and Fishers Island Sound, munching on a Spanish rice and black bean wrap. You can drive to this tiny restaurant, located in the Project Oceanology
building at the University of Connecticut’s Avery Point campus, but it’s much more satisfying to kayak there. My son and I paddled about four miles over from Esker Point Beach in Noank, pulled ashore north of the EnviroLab pier and scrambled up a three-foot seawall just outside the café.
    There are other outdoor restaurants in southeastern Connecticut with slightly easier access and with more extensive menus, but I can’t think of one with a better view.
     Another kayak-friendly public access is the floating pier at Cottrell Park on the Stonington side of downtown Mystic. You can tie up, climb out and stroll less than a hundred yards to a dozen or more establishments that serve takeout food, which you can then carry back to a picnic table overlooking the Mystic River.
     The pier at Cini Park in Niantic offers a similarly easy kayak access within walking distance to restaurants, as does City Pier in New London and Howard T. Brown Memorial Park in Norwich. Determined paddlers also can easily get ashore for lunch or dinner in Stonington Borough and at Napatree Point near Watch Hill. Another pier close to restaurants in downtown Westerly is further up the Pawcatuck River across the street from McQuade’s supermarket.
    A few years ago, while paddling the Erie Canal from Buffalo to Albany I encountered a number of such piers designed to accommodate itinerant voyagers, and they made the 340-mile journey so much easier knowing I didn’t have to carry a stove, utensils and extensive food supply.
     Likewise, I’ve enjoyed hearty meals served at Appalachian Mountain Club huts while hiking in the White Mountains. If you’ve forgotten your wallet, I’ve been told, you can negotiate to do the dishes as payment. Hikers shouldn’t have to live on gorp alone.
     In my frequent wanderings on foot and over water I’ve learned to eat literally on the run, but I also recognize it’s often nice to sit back and enjoy a meal at a more relaxing pace. I’d like to see more shoreline dining establishments cater to paddling clientele.
     That said, a few weeks ago, halfway through the 28-mile Mayor’s Cup kayak race around Manhattan, I extracted a cheese sandwich from a waterproof pouch, jammed half in my mouth and placed the other half on my spray skirt, not wishing to miss a stroke.
    Just then the wake from a passing barge on the East River swept over the deck, drenching the uneaten half.
     I was so starved I took a big bite – but even I have my limits and spit it out.
     It’s just as well there wasn’t a waterfront café nearby because I might have wasted time pulling in for a meal. I paddled hungry all the way around the Battery and back up the Hudson to the finish at 79th Street.
     At least it made the outdoor dinner at the finish all the tastier.