O n a crisp, sunny day in December , I paced up and down miles’ worth of smooth, sandy beaches . I’d heard there were seals to spot just off the shore of Block Island, but I had my head down, turned away from the surf – because even more than I wanted to spy on the wildlife , I wanted to find a glass float. From the 1840s to the 1940s, these small, blown glass orbs were used to keep fishnets from sinking.
Since 2011, however, artist Eben Horton and his team have made these floats to hide around the 9.7sq mile island for a year-round scavenger hunt. A team of volunteers hides hundreds of them each year, tucking them into the hollows of driftwood, the cracks in stone walls, and the crooks of short trees along wooded trails.
Each one is numbered and logged, and finders get a mention in the town newspaper for a moment of local fame whenever they register their win (etiquette is to keep only one per year, to leave some fun for everyone else). It’s free to participate – you just have to pay attention and take care not to walk off-trail or damage fragile habitats. I grew up in mainland Rhode Island , which, despite its name, is not an island at all.
The “Block,” as we often call it, has been one of my favourite places for so long that I cannot remember a time before I knew the Block Island Ferry jingle by heart. Over 30 years later, it remains the same: a Caribbean -inspired earworm played on steel drums, inviting you to “sail away on the Block Island Ferry, take a t.
