Today is oppressively hot, so my friend and I get up early (alarms and all) and drive northeast to the beach. The tide is just starting to recede, which means that our favorite beach is still pretty much underwater. It's okay. We pay our $6 to park, walk for twenty seconds, and set up on a huge flat rock about five feet from the waterline. We can wait it out. We'll have our own private sandy beach in about thirty minutes, and, if we want to go in the water immediately, we only need to trek over some small flat rocks, chuck our flipflops, and wade in.
Luckily (perhaps because we are away from the salt marsh) we only see two greenheads in the three hours that we are at the beach, and we do not get chomped even one single time. The thing that really bothers us is the humidity and relentless heat. There is no sea breeze today, and the temperature, at least where we are, is hovering somewhere closer to 100 degrees, making it cooler to be inland by about six degrees. We are armed with snacks, water, and sunscreen, all of which are the essential tools of battle here at the coast.
After forty minutes in the direct sun, we decide to venture down to the water, which has retracted about two feet, starting to expose the wet sand where we will be swimming. We stick our toes into the water, and, between the excessive heat and the high tide, we expect the salty water to be cold. Very cold. Icy cold.
Our expectations are rapidly dashed as we step further away from our flipflops and deeper into the waves. The water is gorgeous. Perfect. Very close to pool water temperature. We spend forty minutes, probably more, of our time in the water. The waves are endless and are coming in right on top of each other, but they are gentle - not small, by any means: the surfing today is excellent. But the breakers are not violent, they are not forceful, and they are not full of pebbles that sometimes get swept back out with the ebbing tide.
We stay three hours. In this heat and covered with salt, that's plenty long enough. It's only a thirty-five minute ride from home to this beach. It's about the same amount of time to get to twenty (probably more) different beaches up and down the coast of New Hampshire and the North Shore of Massachusetts. We live in the perfect spot: 35 minutes to the beach; 120 minutes to the mountains; 20 minutes to Boston, and easy access to all the major highways.
On a flawless day like today, I remember why I live here, and I remember why I'll never leave.
