On The Beach
The rain and clouds finally blew away Wednesday and the wind itself died down that night. Thursday was finally our day at the beach. With most schools still in session and the official start of the tourist season a couple weeks away, we had the beach virtually to ourselves.
As you can see here, it was low tide at Cape Cod Bay. I walked out to the furthest dry sandbar that I could reach and counted my paces on the return. I calculated it out to a quarter mile. One could keep walking another sixteenth of a mile and still have one's head above water. Being so shallow, the water was warm. Even when the tide came in, the warm sand took the chill out of the incoming waves. It made for the perfect beach setting for small children as they could play and explore to their hearts' content without their parents worrying about them getting slammed by a wave or drowning. Said parents could relax and not have to maintain high alert vigilance status.
Cape Cod Bay has filled in over the few millenia that Cape Cod has been around. Cape Cod was formed roughly 15,000 years ago from glacial moraine (debris deposited by glaciers) along with several islands (Nanucket, Martha's Vineyard, Block Island, Long Island, etc). Sticking out into the Atlantic, it's exposed to every severe storm that winds its way up the coast. Erosion is a huge problem. At various national parks along the ocean side, there are monuments to commemorate the loss of structures that used to exist but have been consumed by the sea. Highland Light was moved inland to avoid such a fate. I wouldn't be surprised if they had to move it again before the end of the century.
The last time we were up at the Cape, Alex was 2 1/2 and loved playing on the beach. He built sand castles, collected rocks and shells, and drove his big Tonka dump truck around as if it were one giant construction site. In fact, he would've been happy if we didn't do anything else but go to the beach. Other activities weren't met with the same level of enthusiasm.
Since that trip, Alex's interest in the Great Outdoors waned, except for his weekly foray into the sandbox. He'd pine for 5 o'clock when SpongeBob would come on. Even our subsequent trips were nothing more than an opportunity for him and I to butt heads and lock horns until one of us yielded, with my wife/his mother playing referee. And Rebecca's birth didn't help matters.
So it was with some trepidation that I set off on this trip of ours. Much to my surprise, Alex and Rebecca embraced the Great Outdoors. Alex would lead the way on the hikes, help us spot the birds back at the house, and once again yearned to get down to the beach. Once there, he wanted to know what everything was. Snails, sand worms, and hermit crabs had to be identified and catalogued. He even dug pools for them so that they wouldn't dry out in the sun while waiting for the tide to come in.
But the best part, at least from my view, was his willingness to overcome his fear of the water to explore. For some reason, bodies of water bother him. Although he's never had any incidents with tubs or pools (unlike me), he's always been afraid of getting into water over his head. He'll even cry if he gets water on his face in the bath. But this time out was different.
We saw a dead horseshoe crab on the beach near the Cape Cod Museum of Natural History in Brewster. He was fascinated by it and wanted to see a live one really badly. I did too. I was always fascinated by them as a kid (and still am). After all, these guys have been around for hundreds of millions of years, virtually unchanged. They were hanging with the trilobites back in the day and were ancient long before the dinosaurs showed up.
While wading out in knee deep water as the tide started coming in, I spotted one. I called out to Alex and he came out to join me. As the water got deeper on him (and me), I told him, "If the water gets too deep for you, let me know, and I'll carry you." He went out to his waist and, without whining, asked if I could pick him up. I did, of course, and we followed the horseshoe crab around for about ten minutes before it retreated into deeper water.
I felt connected to him again. While he was never in any danger, he displayed bravery in wading out to me in water that was far deeper and stranger than any bathtub or kiddie pool he was used to. He let his curiosity about the world take over and left the safety of his comfort zone to experience something new. He gave me hope that I wasn't just raising another suburban TV zombie. He made me proud.
\_/
DED
As you can see here, it was low tide at Cape Cod Bay. I walked out to the furthest dry sandbar that I could reach and counted my paces on the return. I calculated it out to a quarter mile. One could keep walking another sixteenth of a mile and still have one's head above water. Being so shallow, the water was warm. Even when the tide came in, the warm sand took the chill out of the incoming waves. It made for the perfect beach setting for small children as they could play and explore to their hearts' content without their parents worrying about them getting slammed by a wave or drowning. Said parents could relax and not have to maintain high alert vigilance status.
Cape Cod Bay has filled in over the few millenia that Cape Cod has been around. Cape Cod was formed roughly 15,000 years ago from glacial moraine (debris deposited by glaciers) along with several islands (Nanucket, Martha's Vineyard, Block Island, Long Island, etc). Sticking out into the Atlantic, it's exposed to every severe storm that winds its way up the coast. Erosion is a huge problem. At various national parks along the ocean side, there are monuments to commemorate the loss of structures that used to exist but have been consumed by the sea. Highland Light was moved inland to avoid such a fate. I wouldn't be surprised if they had to move it again before the end of the century.
The last time we were up at the Cape, Alex was 2 1/2 and loved playing on the beach. He built sand castles, collected rocks and shells, and drove his big Tonka dump truck around as if it were one giant construction site. In fact, he would've been happy if we didn't do anything else but go to the beach. Other activities weren't met with the same level of enthusiasm.
Since that trip, Alex's interest in the Great Outdoors waned, except for his weekly foray into the sandbox. He'd pine for 5 o'clock when SpongeBob would come on. Even our subsequent trips were nothing more than an opportunity for him and I to butt heads and lock horns until one of us yielded, with my wife/his mother playing referee. And Rebecca's birth didn't help matters.
So it was with some trepidation that I set off on this trip of ours. Much to my surprise, Alex and Rebecca embraced the Great Outdoors. Alex would lead the way on the hikes, help us spot the birds back at the house, and once again yearned to get down to the beach. Once there, he wanted to know what everything was. Snails, sand worms, and hermit crabs had to be identified and catalogued. He even dug pools for them so that they wouldn't dry out in the sun while waiting for the tide to come in.
But the best part, at least from my view, was his willingness to overcome his fear of the water to explore. For some reason, bodies of water bother him. Although he's never had any incidents with tubs or pools (unlike me), he's always been afraid of getting into water over his head. He'll even cry if he gets water on his face in the bath. But this time out was different.
We saw a dead horseshoe crab on the beach near the Cape Cod Museum of Natural History in Brewster. He was fascinated by it and wanted to see a live one really badly. I did too. I was always fascinated by them as a kid (and still am). After all, these guys have been around for hundreds of millions of years, virtually unchanged. They were hanging with the trilobites back in the day and were ancient long before the dinosaurs showed up.
While wading out in knee deep water as the tide started coming in, I spotted one. I called out to Alex and he came out to join me. As the water got deeper on him (and me), I told him, "If the water gets too deep for you, let me know, and I'll carry you." He went out to his waist and, without whining, asked if I could pick him up. I did, of course, and we followed the horseshoe crab around for about ten minutes before it retreated into deeper water.
I felt connected to him again. While he was never in any danger, he displayed bravery in wading out to me in water that was far deeper and stranger than any bathtub or kiddie pool he was used to. He let his curiosity about the world take over and left the safety of his comfort zone to experience something new. He gave me hope that I wasn't just raising another suburban TV zombie. He made me proud.
\_/
DED
posted by DED at 2:13 PM
6 Comments:
A very nice piece Ded. I really like the first photo, I have never seen anything like that. It looks like a place I could explore for a lifetime. Thanks for sharing.
Glad you liked it, Mort. I feel the same way regarding beaches and the ocean (except for overdeveloped places). I'm fortunate in that I got to do quite a bit of exploring as a kid.
Nice!
That's great.
Hey Ded, you must be doing ok to have your own private secluded beach on the Cape! Where is the picture of your yacht? We'd love to come up and visit for a few days if you are willing to share your island...just let us know. BTW nicely written ending...very touching.
Thanks, thanks. :)
It's all that speculative investing that I've been doing. ;)
Nice post, DED. It sounds like the trip was a fine one.
It's nice that you and your son were able to reconnect and enjoy being outside together.
They're always changing, those kids.
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