Cuttyhunk: A Quiet New England Island for Anglers and Locals

Say the name Cuttyhunk to many New Englanders and the typical reaction is a puzzled “Huh?” Though it sits just offshore of New Bedford, Massachusetts, the mile-long island remains relatively unknown to most, known primarily to those who prize its excellent fishing. Cuttyhunk is the outermost of the Elizabeth Islands, the chain of 16 islands stretching from Cape Cod along the edge of Buzzards Bay. It is one of only two Elizabeth Islands not held by the Forbes family, and its rocky shoreline conceals some of the region’s best striped bass fishing.

Small in size and scale, Cuttyhunk contains roughly 150 houses and a seasonal summer population of about 150 residents. Those numbers never coincide all at once, and in winter the year-round population can fall below ten. There is no nightlife, no mall, and few of the trappings of modern urban life. Cellphone service is spotty, cars are scarce, and people move around on foot or by golf cart. Children run through the streets barefoot, and during the off-season the island’s one-room schoolhouse serves the few children who remain—some years the class is as small as a single student.

Fishing is the island’s heart. For more than a century, anglers have come to Cuttyhunk to chase striped bass—commonly called rockfish—among the reefs and ledges that fringe the island. The Cuttyhunk Fishing Club was founded in 1864 when a group of wealthy businessmen discovered the abundance of bass along the shore. Its membership included some of the nation’s most influential figures of that era, among them Presidents Theodore Roosevelt, Grover Cleveland and William Howard Taft, along with prominent industrialists. In 1913, club member Charles B. Church set a world record when he landed a 73-pound bass just offshore.

The fishing club gradually faded after World War I as national priorities shifted, but the building itself survived. When the late Muriel Ponzecchi purchased the clubhouse to prevent its demolition, she entrusted its care to Bonnie Veeder, a lifelong island resident whose family has lived on Cuttyhunk for six generations. Veeder has run the Fishing Club for more than two decades and renovated it as a bed and breakfast while preserving its historic character. Inside are original furnishings and artifacts dating back to 1864—tangible reminders of the anglers who once gathered here. “We try to preserve the building and that era as much as we possibly can,” Veeder says.

Cuttyhunk’s everyday life moves at a deliberately slower pace. The island’s social center is the working fishing dock, where fishermen unload their catches, repair gear, and prepare bait. Around the dock a single line of shops sells chowder, lobsters and supplies, and fishing charters load and depart. Veeder owns the island’s only ice cream shop, where children often sit on the dock eating cones while fishermen sort through live bait. Visitors who want to learn the local fishing grounds are frequently welcomed aboard by seasoned captains. Veeder recommends George Isabel, one of the island’s longest-serving fishermen; in addition to running charters from his 25-foot Linesider, Isabel also serves as Cuttyhunk’s police officer and harbormaster—an example of how island residents often wear many hats.

Cuttyhunk Marina provides 50 transient slips for visiting boaters and the harbor holds about 50 moorings, offering sheltered access for those who arrive by water. On land, choices are deliberately limited: one marketplace, one sit-down restaurant, and one raw bar. That simplicity is part of the island’s charm. Two main beaches offer contrasting experiences—Barges Beach is a rocky stretch ideal for walking and cookouts, while Church’s Beach features sand and calm water good for swimming. Lookout Park, built atop an old bunker, provides panoramic views across Buzzards Bay, Vineyard Sound, neighboring islands and the open ocean, and is a favored spot for evening sunsets.

Community life still centers on a handful of annual traditions. On the first weekend of August each year, the island swells with visitors for a fireworks display that draws everyone out of their houses. For that single night, the quiet streets fill with people, business lines form, and cookouts and road-side stands transform the island into a lively, temporary village. For most of the year, however, the peace and routine of island living are what residents value most.

“Living here was just a normal way of life for us,” Veeder reflects. “You don’t think anything different of it until you see that things are done a bit differently on the mainland. You always get people who go, ‘What is there to do?’ and I say to them, ‘Nothing—that’s the best part.’”

This article originally appeared in the May 2019 issue.