To me, a beach isn’t a playground; it’s a place to connect
with the totality of the environment. I want to watch how its level changes from
day to day, sometimes revealing underlying rocks and ancient tree stumps. I
want to feel the texture of the sand - sometimes dry, sometimes damp, sometimes
wet, sometimes frosty. I want to watch the sea and work out why it’s a sludgy
brown one day, electric blue the next, and nearly black the day after that. I
want to feel the mood of the waves and link it to the wind, the temperature,
and whether it’s raining or not. I want to watch the littoral birds diving in
the shallows, and the maritime birds diving far offshore, and then turn around
to watch the larks dallying above the dunes. And there are insects among the
grasses on the dunes, and moths, and stripey caterpillars…
I can’t do that in a crowd. I can only do it alone or
accompanied by some special person I can trust to join me in the connection. (And
there aren’t too many of those.) Besides, if I sit in the sun for more than
about thirty seconds I become fidgety and fractious unless I'm either reading, eating or talking to one of the special persons mentioned above. And I don’t like crowds.
So how do I define a crowd? Well, I lived by a beach in
Northumberland once and walked on it nearly every day for a little short of two
years. I could just about tolerate a lone person walking a dog somewhere in the
distance. Any more than that was a crowd.
4 comments:
I feel the same way about beaches, although for slightly different reasons - if I sit in the sun for more than thirty seconds, my skin starts to burn off.
You've pretty much perfectly described what I like about the beach. Your description reminds me in particular of the beaches in Maine we used to visit when I was little. Because of the aforementioned skin burning off problem my parents and I would often go very early in the morning or at dusk to the beach (also, after 6 pm the beaches allowed dogs). I think you would like Maine a lot.
Ah, so now I know why you want to live in Iceland.
I could have talked about the coast of Pembrokeshire instead. It's much more spectacular than Northumberland - no sand dunes, but lots of cliffs with paths where thrift grows in profusion, In May the clifftop path looks like a cottage garden. And you get to hear adders scurrying away into the undergrowth just before you reach them, and you can see lots of islands where monks used to live, and pristine gulls come and share your lunch and pose enthusiastically for photographs, and things like that...
I'm sure I would love Maine. It's only a short boat ride to Canada from there. (Only kidding.) The sea is much more characterful when it's on the edge of a deep ocean, so the awareness of being on the cusp of an environment in which you can survive and one in which you couldn't is more profound.
Email following later.
They only allow dogs after 6? Scandalous!
After 6 in the peak season, with some exceptions. My favorite trips were in the off seasons, though. The beaches are cold and desolate.
Now I'm wondering whether we have such rule or bye-law on British beaches. I haven't been to one in a long time. I suppose it does make a certain sense if it's a busy beach with lots of kids around. But does the same rule apply to public parks?
And I must admit, I prefer my beaches warm and desolate.
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