Editor's Dispatch

Thirteen miles off the Rhode Island coast, Block Island requires the kind of math that keeps a pilot honest. The approach is a stunning sweep over the Atlantic, terminating at a 2,502-foot strip of asphalt. The margins are tight: a fifteen-foot drop-off lurks just left of the numbers, and the local deer population treats the non-standard safety areas like a public park. You will pay a ten-dollar landing fee if your tail number isn't registered in Rhode Island, and you will not buy gas. There is no fuel on the field. You land here because the destination is worth the strict reserve planning.

This is the archetype of the New England summer colony, blessedly immune to homogenization. There are no chain stores on Block Island. The landscape is defined by stacked stone walls and rolling green bluffs, hosting a year-round population of a thousand that swells fifteen-fold when the weather warms. It feels like stepping backward in time, assuming the past involved a fleet of rental mopeds and a steadfast refusal to hurry.

You don't even have to leave the terminal to eat well. Ellen's at the Airport took over the on-field space in 2023, serving southern-style biscuits and gravy with a front-row view of the ramp. But the wider draw requires a flat, eighteen-minute walk down Center Road to New Harbor. The Oar is an island institution. You go for the formidable Mudslides and a massive lawn overlooking Great Salt Pond, drinking under a ceiling bolted with hundreds of painted oars. If you want something sharper than casual pub fare, walk another two minutes to Dead Eye Dick's for fresh swordfish tacos on a waterfront deck.

With a footprint this manageable, making a weekend of it is the logical move. You can grab a ride from Island Moped and Bike to access the moors and lighthouses on the far side of the island, or just stay on foot near the harbors. The morning crowd gathers at Persephone's Kitchen for serious espresso and breakfast bowls. Evenings inevitably drift toward Poor People's Pub for massive burgers and a heavy-hitting local draft list.

Block Island is a mandatory logbook entry for Northeast pilots, offering massive atmospheric return on a short overwater hop. Winter strips the island down to its bones—the summer crowds are gone, but so are many of the kitchen hours, turning a bustling colony into a stark, quiet retreat until June. Run the weight-and-balance for that 2,502-foot runway and double-check your mainland fuel stop. The reward is a short walk to the harbor for seafood that actually tastes like the ocean.