BK → MTK 07: Eastport > Riverhead > Southampton

The Big Duck, roadside memorials, and singing to pass the time.

October 17th, 2021

Eastport → Riverhead → Southampton 

21.17 miles

Last night I read that the hamlet of Eastport was once the duck capital of Long Island. In the first half of the twentieth century, supposedly 6.5 million American Pekin ducks were produced each year from 29 different farms throughout the town. If I’ve heard correctly, only one duck farm remains on the entire island in a hamlet called Aquebogue on the North Fork.

It’s fitting to leave Eastport this morning. I made plans to walk some 10 miles out of my way just to see the famous Big Duck in Flanders and I would need all the #BigDuckEnergy I could get. I could feel it’s presence on the streets of Eastport and let it guide me throughout the day. 

In order to reach Flanders, I had to leave the comforts of the Montauk Highway in favor of roads less traveled by those on foot – if any. These roads carry less traffic and run through more remote areas while boasting speed limits of 45 mph or more. They’re dangerous to walk and crossing from one side to the other could easily be a fatal mistake if you’re not paying enough attention. Deer are of more concern to those behind the wheel out here, and the thought of someone walking on the shoulder likely doesn’t cross anyone’s mind.

Despite nonideal roads, the area is incredibly beautiful and full of fall foliage. I’m surrounded by trees and the occasional residence tucked far off the road. It’s incredibly quiet and I can hear a forest creature step on a fallen tree branch deep in the woods. I thought I would be nervous walking this route today, but instead I’m feeling alive. 

Rain from the previous night brought cold crisp air. The sky is a deep blue. Hawks float aimlessly looking for food occasionally looking at me. It’s Sunday and despite these treacherous roads, I couldn't ask for better weather.

On these stretches you’re asked to sit with yourself. You can only take so many pictures of trees, blue sky, cars, and pavement. Instead, I retreat inward and continue as if I’ve been hypnotized. Sometimes I’m lost in thought, or transfixed on the painted median dividing the road. Other times, I begin to sing to myself. 

While not much of a singer, I’ve noticed it’s a way I pass the time. I’ll go through an entire playlist in a matter of minutes, hopping from the chorus of one song to another. Today it's Kylie Minogue, Warren Zevon, and the Cocteau Twins. Don’t ask me how I pick the songs – they pick me. 

It brings comfort as I walk in a grassy median, likely 30 feet wide, between 4 lanes of moderate highway. Despite being completely exposed, it’s likely the safest place to walk in these conditions. The shoulder is much too tight, and with cars going 65 mph, I’d rather not walk there. I understand it’s not safe to walk on these highways, but this is the best option I have, and what I must do if I want to reach the Big Duck today. 

Occasionally a driver yells something at me or honks their horn erratically. I can’t tell if it’s in support or contempt, but from behind these sunglasses, I could really care less. I’ve got a few more miles of this road and then I’m back to safety. 

Around 1pm I arrive in Riverhead and stop for a much needed cup of coffee. I left town this morning expecting to run into a gas station, but never did. This McDonalds is the first sign of coffee I’ve seen in 10 miles. 

Caffeinated, I pivot down Flanders Road. I’ll be at the Big Duck in just over an hour and the #BigDuckEnergy is incredibly strong. I’ve waited 10 years to make this pilgrimage. 

“Pedestrian!” someone shouts from their car. I look over and a couple waves at me. 

“I read your newsletter!” I’ve no idea who they are, but I thank them for reading. I’m shocked as I feel so far away from anyone I could possibly know. 

I’m walking down Flanders Road with a huge grin on my face. In the distance I see a white figure emerge from behind the trees. I know exactly who it is. 

The Big Duck! 

Having walked over 100 miles over the last 6 days, this moment is much more meaningful and impactful than if I chose to drive here from Brooklyn. While this isn’t the end of my journey, it's hard not to get emotional. In this case, I’m overwhelmed with happiness. The #BigDuckEnergy is unfathomable and stronger than anticipated. I let out a yell of celebration – a rarity for me, but I cannot help myself. Before embarking on this walk I considered skipping Flanders, but I’m so happy I’ve made it. It was worth the trek. 

For those unfamiliar, Martin Maurer, a duck farmer, had the Big Duck constructed in 1931 to draw customer attention to his duck farm. Originally it sat in Riverhead and sold duck and duck eggs, but was moved to Flanders where it occupied a prominent location near Maurer’s new farm. It’s unusual shape and location garnered much attention, until it closed in the late 80’s. Nowadays it’s just a novelty gift shop selling Big Duck related items. 

While it has a rich history concerning the duck farms that once occupied this land, it also has a significant legacy on Post Modern architecture. In the seminal 1972 book Learning From Las Vegas, authors Venturi and Scott Brown deemed it architecturally significant and coined the term “duck” to describe any building that is shaped like the product it sells. The book is widely popular among artists and architects thus giving the Big Duck a somewhat international cult following. It was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1997.

Inside I met Janice, the docent of the Big Duck. She has lots to say and mentions that working there allows her to meet people from all walks of life. The #BigDuckEnergy attracts people from all over the world. I ask if she’s ever met someone who has walked here from Brooklyn and she lets out a slight chuckle.

“No. No, I haven’t”

There’s something so sweet about Janice. She is gentle. I joke about the #BigDuckEnergy and she’s completely onboard and knows exactly what I’m talking about. I give her a hug before saying goodbye.

With an overwhelming sense of #BigDuckEnergy, I’m back on the road heading towards Montauk Highway. In Flanders there was an adequate sidewalk, but now I’m back to walking on the shoulder once outside of town. Traffic has resumed to a jarring speed. I scan the street with undivided attention to make sure I don’t get hurt.

It’s hard not to forget the dangers of traveling on the roads no matter what type of transportation you choose. Throughout the day, I come across multiple memorials to commemorate those who lost their lives behind the wheel. Some are simply marked with a white cross, while other memorials have their own sign and display a photo of the deceased. I’ve seen 3 or 4 today, and that’s in the span of 15 miles of walking. I can’t imagine how many of these memorials are scattered throughout the island. 

It’s a powerful to witness these memorials from the shoulder and I take a picture of each one I see. While I don’t know these people, it fills me with immense sadness to see all the lives lost behind the wheel and the lengths family members have gone to preserve their memory. I take a little piece of them with me. It’s abstract really, but I feel a sense of duty to get home safely in their honor. 

The sun is beginning to set. It’s been a long day, perhaps the longest of the entire trip. I’m back on the Montauk Highway and feeling its comfort once again. I pass through Hampton Bays, grab another cup of coffee, and get out of town where I’m suddenly right up next to the ocean. The moon begins to rise and nightfall is upon us. It’s getting to that point where I’m tempted to abandon this walk and jump right in the water, however I need to finish up the day before it gets dark. There’s plenty of ocean waiting for me once I get to Montauk.

Last night I stayed at a motel outside of Southampton proper, right beside the Montauk Highway. I’m so used to staying in rooms inside of other people’s homes that it’s nice to have a place all to myself. I order some pasta, do my stretches, watch the Braves defeat the Dodgers, and write this newsletter. I’m having a good time.

Just two more days left, I can't believe it! We’re entering the final act of this long walk and Montauk is soon approaching. Thanks again for reading. Your encouraging comments and support mean a lot. 

See you in Easthampton. 

–Alex

Southampton, NY