Kayaking

Those who remain committed to the unostentatious venture of kayaking make up something of a cult on the East End. To the mixed delight of Ed Cashin, co-founder of Weekend Warrior Tours, a kayak and outing club based in Sag Harbor, the bays remain an undiscovered gem. "While Hampton residents could be exploring the plentiful estuaries and inlets, they're out shopping or in line at Nick & Toni's," observes Ed. He's surprised by how few people take advantage of the natural resources on offer here, pointing to himself and a few 'granola' types who just can't get enough of life North-of-the-Highway.

The community of kayakers is a close one and varies widely in ability. There are more extreme sportsmen like Ed, who paddles upwards of 30 miles per day, as well as recreational kayakers who enjoy taking shorter trips. Perhaps it's all the fresh sea air blasting in your face, or the effects of getting your heart rate up, but, like after most exercise, I felt great after my excursion, with the added bonus of having observed a local bayman look for oysters (they use a box with a magnifying glass as its base to scout for the aphrodisiacal shellfish).

Sometimes known to take off for multiple-day kayak trips in locations such as New Zealand (where he owns a home) and Mexico, Ed's love of kayaking is infectious. Before I knew it, I was planning days in my week when I could squeeze a paddle in, and everyone else should do the same!

Great spots to kayak are off of Lazy Point in Amagansett (where we went) and in Coecles Harbor on Shelter Island. Both locations are near parks and preserves, so the views of the land and purity of the water are unparalleled.

-Lily Betjeman

Golf in the Hamptons

American leisure has long been influenced by the prevailing winds of Europe, and in the late 1800s, when great industrialists from the States were on holiday in France, they fell in love with an unfamiliar game called golf. Returning to America, William Vanderbilt, Duncan Cryder and Edward Mead decided they needed a course close to their summer cottages in Long Island, and so golf in the Hamptons was born. It has been regenerating itself ever since. From Shinnecock to Sebonack, 117 years of tradition has carved out more than a dozen courses along the 26 miles between the Canal and the Point. These are just a few of the highlights-a cross section of the public, the private and the newest arrivals.

Members Only - Shinnecock

It is said that the waiting list at the famously exclusive country club is "around 3 generations," but as the #2 ranked course in the world, with three U.S. Opens hosted on its grounds, perhaps it's worth the wait.

What you experience at the Shinnecock Hills Golf Club is a drastic alteration from its preliminary design. The original 1891 12-hole course was built to the south, between the Stanford White Clubhouse and Shinnecock Bay, a location which put the winds of the Atlantic into serious play. It was extended to a full 18 holes four years later by Scotsman Willie Dunn (who had postulated that golf would never take off in the States because it was too far from its epicenter in Europe). When Route 27 was carved through the course in 1931, the club abandoned the property south of the highway and redesigned everything but the 7th, 9th, and 17th holes, creating the course that exists today. As a testament to its design, it was ranked as the No. 2 course in the nation by Golf Digest in 2007. More than one hundred years later, the hilly terrain, 150 bunkers, and prevailing winds still wreak havoc on the sport's top players. (Building the original course on a Native American burial ground may also have had something to do with it.)

Just down the road is the new course on the block. Somewhat fitting, the historic estate Bayberry Land, built for Charles Sabin, a trustee of the Golf Links of America and an amateur golfer, was bought by developer Michael Pascucci in 2004 to build the Sebonack Golf Club. The 300-acre Jack Nicklaus and Tom Doak design is spectacular. Running along the Great Peconic Bay and boasting a bit more earthy feel than its links-inspired neighbors, Shinnecock and National, the wind still plays a great part in the course's difficulty (13 holes are either on or overlooking the water). The dune, tree, and bunker placement by two of golf's great designers adds to its extremely challenging nature. If you can afford the $650,000 initial membership fee, it may just be worth it.

Gone Public

Until Ike installed a putting green at the White House, golf had been perceived as reserved for the wealthy. Then boys from Latrobe started winning the Masters and golf went mainstream. While elitism is still reflected in membership fees at private clubs, you don't have to be a Vanderbilt to swing the wrenches in the Hamptons anymore. Poxabogue is a nice 9-hole course in Sagaponack, but the real gem of the public golf theater is Montauk Downs. At $41 on a weekend for NY State residents, you're getting a steal (it costs double for out-of-towners). Originally built in 1927, Robert Trent Jones Jr. redesigned the shambled course in 1968, and it is currently being altered under the guidance of Rees Jones (designer of both The Atlantic and The Bridge in Bridgehampton). At present, a bunker is being put in place at the 18th, but the renovations haven't seemed to affect anyone's play as much as the ever-changing Atlantic gusts.

With course design second to none, the hardest part of playing 18 holes in the Hamptons is keeping your head down. While many private clubs have generation-long waiting lists, there are a few with a slightly shorter wait. Until then, take advantage of the public courses or buy Three Ponds Farm in Bridgehampton. For about $70 million it comes with its own USGA rated 18-hole course. You don't even have to schedule a tee time.
-Christian McLean

Paddle boarding

Despite its recent beginnings, stand up paddle boarding feels somehow archaic; perhaps it's the regal look of standing upright on the board. The hybrid of kayaking and surfing has sparked a large following among the surfer brahs on the East End in recent years.

Originally stemming from the beach boys of Waikiki in the 1920s and 30s, who, by standing on their boards, were able to keep their cameras dry while snapping shots of tourists, paddle boarding has kept somewhat in-line with its inception. A huge draw to the sport is the view it affords both of the ocean floor and of the sandy bluffs on the land.

Most popular on calm days, the exceptionally large size of the board (2'x12') allows riders to catch smaller waves and ride them for longer periods. You won't find paddle boarders just on the ocean, however. Peconic Bay and Georgica Pond are among the favored spots.

Montauk surf scene staple and paddle board instructor Cory Senese emphasized maintaining balance and strength during my lesson, but encouraged me to let my body adapt to standing on an unstable surface naturally. Every muscle in your core and legs are used to keep you upright.

A new board will run you anywhere from $600 and $1,000, and a carbon-fiber paddle (the most popular choice for paddle boarders) costs roughly $250. If you'd rather rent a board (a good idea if you're just starting out), prices average around $50 a day and the best place to learn is on flat water (try Sagaponack Pond or the ocean on calm days).

-Lily Betjeman

Sky Diving

It's a classic on the list of things to do before you die, but frankly, at the time, it seemed more a form of suicide. Think about it: You are thrown off a plane, 13,000 feet over solid ground and plunge through pure atmosphere at 120 mph. You leave your fate in the hands of a stranger strapped to your back and ultimately pray that you've picked a legitimate company and not some sketchy joint that puts you on a shaky plane, hands you a trash bag and pushes you out. Maybe this is a bit of an exaggerated description on my part, but when faced with a six-page document that covers the liability of your death, the imagination is warranted to wander. I've always thought it as an adventure on par with climbing Mt. Everest, or swimming with sharks. Who, you might wonder, would be crazy enough to want to do these things? I would.

17 hours before my scheduled death plunge, I was neurotically googleing skydiving and stumbled upon a page comparing two Long Island facilities (longislandskydivefacilities.com being the second option). The extremely similar names seemed confusing to the point of sketchiness. Looking over the site, which features two main facilities with pictures and captions side by side, Skydive Long Island was obviously a clean, professional company, while the other screamed shady operations. Apparently the name similarity is not a coincidence, but an angle to confuse naive customers. This misrepresentation of legitimacy prompted the genuine company to establish the apt slogan, "If you are not skydiving in Calverton, you are in the wrong place!"

This brings me to Skydive Long Island in Calverton. I am greeted by recognized skydiving veteran, owner Ray Maynard, quickly sign the death waiver, and head out to jump. "I have to go do a quick jump and then I'll be right back for you," calls my instructor nonchalantly over his shoulder while hurrying off towards a roaring plane. His easy manner forces me to realize that what seems like a hectic, daunting endeavor for me is simply routine for them; my worrying suddenly feels superfluous.

After I'm geared up in my harness and parachute, I do my most attractive waddle to my tiny plane. Finally we are ascending. Pumped with adrenaline, there is no time for second thoughts at this point. I get some last minute instruction and scoot down to the door, which brings me to the climax of the experience - toes at the edge of the door, looking down to a fantastic aerial view of Long Island, and for a fraction of a second, my mind freezes in pure astonishment.

An intense rush of wind and gravity, coupled with a healthy dose of screaming is what I saw on the instructional DVD before the jump. In reality, the event is so surreal that I feel nothing; I am thinking about nothing, and I have nothing to worry about. The feeling is complete freedom interrupted by the jolt of the parachute providing a gentle ride down to the ground. It was during this stride that an awkwardly entertaining conversation developed with Duncan as he recounted the number of times jumpers had thrown up on him. (Around 8 times, including three times in one week last summer.) My venture ends with a successful landing.

Looking back, this is something I would have never considered; more than that, it's something that no one would expect from me. This may seem like an extreme sport, but in reality the experience - mentally, physically, and emotionally - is transcendent, a personal test of how far you are willing to push the limit, step out of your comfort zone, and astound yourself.

Meeting the questions: "how was it? Will you go again?" The answer, inarguably, is yes; any time, any day, but preferably Calverton.
-Alison Goggins

Surfing

The origin of surfing is what watercolorists call a "happy accident." Just as I learned that working with the movement of water creates beautiful, spontaneous paintings, ancient Polynesians found that riding in on a wave was the fastest way to bring their daily catch to shore. Coasting in on well-shaped breakers created by coral reefs, fishermen came to enjoy surfing as an activity in itself. Its transition, however, wasn't simply from work to play. Rather surfing became infused in all aspects of ancient Polynesian culture. The most skilled surfer was made chief, and only the ruling class was allowed to surf the best beaches on the best board from the best tree.

Though contemporary society uses elections to determine government officials, surfing is still used to gauge worthiness on local beaches. The real kind of ocean access-the kind that matters-has nothing to do with parking permits. Veteran surfers have earned their right and Hampton natives are grandfathered in, but newcomers need to earn their place in the water. Trading business suits for wetsuits, board-wielding yuppies often find themselves chafing locals. Ditch Plains is more popular than ever and it's only a matter of time before other Hampton surf spots find riders sitting shoulder-to-shoulder. Walking down one of Southampton's beaches in June, Flying Point Surf School director Shane Dyckman looked wistfully at the empty ocean. Once word gets out about the sandbar, he said, surfers are going to flock here.

Whether by nature or out of necessity, the Hampton's tight-knit surf community remains gated despite overcrowding. In an attempt to reclaim their territory, Hampton surfers adamantly protested the use of surf cams in East Hampton. They believe the cameras, which stream videos of current conditions to the web, are partly responsible for catalyzing congestion. A loyal tribe, when the number of surfboards disappearing from the dunes skyrocketed in 2002, surfers gave a general warning to offenders not to use the stolen boards around here. Everyone knows everyone, they said, and everyone knows everyone's board.

I was anxious to start my surfing lesson. It wasn't that I was afraid of being battered by the ocean or getting hit on the head by my board (which is good, because they both happened), but rather whether or not I would be accepted into the surfing community. I made sure to identify myself as a local, thinking this was enough to validate my being there. Paddling out, I quickly learned that it's your attitude, not your address that earns you a spot on the water. Surfing has a steep learning curve, and though it can be discouraging to novices, it makes the reward that much sweeter. Catching my first wave gave me an incredible rush. Riding in down its face, whitewater billowing behind me, I surfed into the shore. Turning back to the ocean, I found my instructor Shane with both arms up in the air in celebration and approval. I was in.

-Meghan Gleason

Fishing

Having spent the last few years traveling around on boats to all the local fishing destinations, I have found that there is nothing quite as wonderful as the fluke fishing off Gardiner's Island. It's quiet, tranquil and serene and you don't need a boat to have a good day of fishing. Plus, everyone shows up to the party-fluke, flounder, stripers, blackfish, porgies, weakfish and false albacore. Today, there is one man whom I consider inextricably linked to the waters of Gardiners Bay: Capt. Harvey L. Bennett, widely known as the region's best fishing authority. He's a a sort of hippy-Bonacker hybrid who prefers the days when "men were men and didn't drive Porsches." He owns "The Tackle Shop" in Amagansett, a local landmark and essential stop for anyone looking for light tackle fishing supplies, local fishing information and a colorful take on local history and politics. It's also a great start for parents looking to introduce their children to fishing. A gregarious and insightful storyteller, Harvey is an accomplished fisherman and guide and a man who has dedicated his life to hunting and fishing. He is among the last to bear witness to the declining Bonacker population on the East End. I spent my childhood watching the Baymen, or Bonackers, as they are known as in the Springs area of East Hampton, ply their trade; tending to their fish traps, pulling lobster pots, scouring the sand for clams and other shellfish. The Bonackers were the original settlers of East Hampton, arriving in the mid-1600s and depending largely on the sea for their survival. Their population has diminished as our hamlets have developed into a thriving resort culture, but up until a few decades ago, theirs was a dominant culture in the South Fork.

The reasons the industry is dwindling according to a 13th generation fisherman now leaving the trade, are very specific: "With the cost of fuel, limits on our catch and other growing restrictions, it's not even worth leaving the dock anymore." His father, another longtime Bayman remains: "Maybe it's stupidity or force of habit," he says, "or just plain love of fishing, and the fact that we don't know anything else that makes sense in the world. But I'm staying this one out. There is no next generation," he says with a glance toward his son. "We just might be the last of our kind."

-Capt. Seamus S. Lamb

Local Tip: Where to go

In the spring, the fish move mostly into deep waters around Sag Harbor and Peconic. In June, sight fishing is at its best - poling a flats boat through the shallows and stalking stripers by sight. In fall, we get these huge blitzs. All the fish converge on Montauk and Orient Point and there are a few tuna species - bonito and false albacore - that come into shore.

Wakeboarding

Among the plethora of water sports is a new generation of the category that is wakeboarding. Developed in the 1980s, wakeboarding is best described as a mix of waterskiing, surfing and snowboarding techniques. The sport was initially introduced as "skiboarding", using a homemade variation of a surfboard by drilling holes and installing bindings to produce what was named the "skurfer". Since then, the redesign of the skurfer into the more aqua-dynamically-apt wakeboard has transformed it into a category in the X-Games adrenaline junkies' equivalent to the Olympics.

The advanced techniques make this water sport more involved than it looks. Complex jumps are made using the wake and the tautness of the rope to get enough air to make moves. When you get past the bunnyhop to the level of tricked-out jumps and sick flips, some gnarley terms you have to look forward to include Tantrum and Backroll, which are styles of huge back flips over the wake. As I learned in my lesson with Capt. Jay Burke at Ulheins Marina, it demands a lot of patience, physical strength and a great instructor.