I started visiting Provincetown on an annual basis in 2007. I would entice friends to chip in on seasonal rentals and we would trek into Boston and be whisked away by ferry to a landscape so different than what we were used to.
It became tradition to visit over Labor Day week. There was always a bit of “classic P-town” – the drag queens and parties and street performers and T-Dance, but those died down immediately following the holiday.
From that point on, the town became relatively deserted save for a handful of tourists and the year-round residents. It was during this time that I found myself more capable of relaxing and centering myself – something that was often overlooked in my every day existence.
The only way to get to Race Point or Herring Cove beaches at the tip of the sandy hook that is Massachusetts (on foot, at least) is to cross the West End Breakwater at low tide. This is a one-mile stretch of strategically placed stones. It is not particularly challenging once the summer crowds die down and provides many artistic opportunities.
As a total aside, your history teachers got it wrong. Provincetown is actually where the Pilgrims first landed before setting off to Plymouth. I’m glad those stuffy prudes left lest P-town not be the home of All The Fabulousness.