I go to the beach today,
the first semi-hang-out day of the season.
I have several friends who always say to me, “Let me know when you’re
going to the beach,” but this isn’t really a sit-around beach trip; it’s more
of a continued reconnaissance mission to steal beach rocks for my pal’s garden
and cellar edging.
The plan is to head out
early (on the road by 8:30 a.m.), walk part of the beach, gather some rocks and
dump them in bins in the car, get in the water, gather more rocks and dump them
in bins in the car, get in the water again, grab more rocks and haul them to
the car twice more. We will be in and
out of our parking space in slightly less than three hours.
In other words, this is
still a working beach trip and not a social occasion. Until my pal’s edging is done, our beach
trips will continue to be covert rock gathering trips. The good news is it may take one, maybe two,
more trips to gather beach rocks. We are
that good.
But today’s blog is not
about the rocks … again. Today’s blog is
about sharks. After all, it is Shark
Week on Discovery.
Recently there have been
eight shark attacks off the East Coast, all south of here. The most recent happened on the evening of
the Fourth of July. However, there have
been at least three great white shark sightings in Southern Maine waters, and
there is at least one great white shark trolling the waters off Cape Cod
around Chatham again. Several years ago
I was at Hampton Beach when the waves were closed to beach-goers due to a shark
sighting.
I’m not going to lie. Sharks in the water? It’s something that should always be in ocean
swimmers’ minds. Okay, not obsessively
so, but as an awareness. Kind of like
your own private Public Service Announcement.
Attention, Self!
You are swimming in the ocean.
You do not live in the ocean, but other creatures do. Please be aware of your surroundings and
understand that these living ocean creatures might want to grab, pinch, bite,
or maul you. Have a great time swimming
and boogie-boarding. By the way, if
people near you get obnoxious, you may toss crackers or other food items under
their chairs while they are down by the water.
Thank you.
Turns out I don’t listen
very well to my own conscience. Oh,
sure, I scan the water while I’m wading in, but there’s that false sense of
security that the outer swimmers and surfers and boogie boarders will get
picked off first (not true, by the way).
It isn’t long before I am in the waves and wandering farther and farther
into the murky, salty water. I go in
about belly-high, duck down a couple of times to get my shoulders and hair wet,
but refrain from getting a face full of salt (for the most part, except when
spray comes up and hits me square in the left eye).
I don’t get attacked by a
shark, I don’t get busted for pilfering beach rocks, and I don’t stay at the
beach very long. I promise when it’s
time to actually enjoy the beach, I’ll let everyone know. In the meantime, if you’re at the beach
without me, watch out for sharks – and grab me a few interesting rocks.
