We keep extending the distance of our walks from Slaughter Beach south to Prime Hook Beach. We walked almost 12 miles yesterday in weather that reached into the low 70's. We started first thing in the morning, wanting to enjoy this day to the fullest. There was a possibility of rain but who cares? We just geared up for it.
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| A warm morning with a dramatic sky, an outbound tide and the contrast of the fat, red buoy floating just offshore. |
As we walk the miles, my feet sink in an inch or two, sometimes more, sometimes less depending on where on the beach we walk and how firmly the sand is packed. I was curious about the science of this and looked it up on the internet. The first thing I found was "What Makes Sand Soft?" a New York Times article by Randall Monroe published November 9l, 2020. Turns out, the answer lies in a field of physics that is still evolving (as if any field of physics could ever be finite). There's so much not yet known about how the size, shape, strength and texture of grains of sand affect other factors such as firmness under our feet. And, of course, moisture overlays these factors as well. The softness of sand on the beach may be appreciated by sunbathers walking barefoot or stretched out prone on a towel. But for us, firm sand is good though I admit, soft sand gives us a better workout. We feel the effort of all those small muscles and tendons during long walks. But the more we do it the less post walk pain we feel.
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| With the tide out we see just a little of "what lies below". I love it. |
Our walks on the beach are always an out and back thing, a linear trail defined thus by a large body of water on one side and sand dunes, marshland or human boundaries often on the others. The walk out never seems long even as we press further and further south, exploring, experiencing. For me, I guess it's the anticipation. Looking forward to the newness of any given day on the beach and the differing views all around, the birds, the animal tracks, and all the interesting things washed up on the beach keep the walk feeling like a great sightseeing tour or a science class, a great tease of the brain and sensory existence.
In fact, there is so much to see on any given walk that I often don't even know where to look and have to make myself slow down yet make myself look up and around, give all aspects of the journey a good appreciation. I go back and forth between studying what's in and on the sand, to watching birds, the ships anchored or moving offshore, planes, especially the huge seemingly slow movers out of Dover Air Force Base, changing clouds or the subtle changing shade of a clear blue sky, swaying blades of the beach grasses in the dunes, the wave action... Like one of my favorite John Burroughs quotes, "To learn something new, take the path that you took yesterday." This is true for any walk in nature but even more obvious along a beach.
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| Crossing from Slaughter Beach to the beach fronting the Prime Hook National Wildlife Refuge. This view evokes for me pictorial images of wartime. I much prefer this one. |
Psychologically, the return walk back on a beach walk always seems a bit longer even though we still find things we missed on the way out and all around us the details of the scenery are still changing. I think it really only seems longer because we are digging deeper into the sand with our extra few pounds of weight caused by carrying our beach booty. That, combined sometimes with the warmth of the rising temperature during the day, can make for a slightly more challenging walk. We can go out cold in the morning, layered up for wind or forecasted rain and come back with an outer layer or two tied around our waists, draped around our necks, drooped over an arm or stuffed in bags and sweating.
Our normal beach trek goes like this: Outbound, we pick up goodies that are small, or larger ones that we are afraid we might miss on our way back. We usually don't have to worry about other beachcombers snagging all the booty. This would be a worry, I guess, for groomed beaches in the summer. There aren't that many other beachcombers out in the winter on the non-touristy beaches that we prefer. On our walks back to our vehicle we pick up trash and always have to be somewhat selective even though we contemplated the wisdom of rolling back a huge plastic drum once. Normally we bring back smaller items, things that can get swallowed up by sea life and end up compromising the circle of life. The exercise involved in bending over to snag trash is a nice counter to walking. And sometimes that bending over act involves digging and dragging and unraveling and pulling off nature's globs of tangled grasses wrapped and grown around fishing wire or ribbons or whatever. It is always a great or not-so-great adventure in trash collecting. But the bending over stretches out our backs a bit.
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| We have unusual sculptures that were beach finds - ladies shoe bottom alongside two empty fuel canisters, weathered from the water and sun. |
An exception to picking up trash on the return trek is if the trash is something we find interesting that could be upcycled into some kind of sculpture, or even as a stand alone sculpture such as the bottom of a woman's high healed shoe and two empty fuel canisters all weathered from water and sun.
One of the most common category of trash we collect, and that fortunately is not heavy, is the mylar balloon and accompanying ribbon. Unfortunately they tangle up inside and outside the bodies of sea life. We've also seen and heard tales of raptors trying to use them in nests and getting tangled up needing assistance from the local fire department. I admit I used to love mylar balloons and when I was much younger I would let them go, rising up into the sky and wondering where they might float off to. I was not a hiker then, not a wanderer and not as tuned into the crisis in our environment. But I am now and now I know where those mylar balloons go to die and often to take critters with them. It's not a romantic speculation anymore. In our years of hiking we find them in the most remote areas, tangled in trees 100 feet off the ground, on the ground in the woods, on the beaches. I remember the first time the color of a mylar balloon caused me to pull out my binoculars thinking there might be a brightly colored bird in a distance. Now I'm more suspect. On any given walk anywhere we are bound to find at least one. Our last walk on the beach yielded at least half a dozen which on a beach is not atypical. Some of these balloons were relatively fresh from Valentine's Day. As much as I despair about all the mylar balloons released in the wild I can't help but also wonder and imagine stories about who might have purchased them and who received the "temporary gift" and who released them into the wilds. Those actions were probably well meaning. The actors did not know or really think through the results of this seemingly ethereal but ironic act of littering. But before I judge too harshly, I recall a Malcom X quote that resonated with me in a lot of ways but also as pertains to these seemingly happy, harmless mylar balloons released into nature: "Don't be in a hurry to condemn because he doesn't do what you do or think as you think or as fast. There was a time when you didn't know what you know today."
Sea glass and other small treasures are picked up whenever we see them. Other finds include smallish rocks that are interesting due to striations, color or shape, pieces of drift wood, shells and weird items of trash.
I collect shells only if they are empty of life. They include channeled and knobbed whelk, oyster drills which look like miniature whelks, oyster shells, occasionally angel wings, shark eye shells, jingle shells, blue mussel shells, bay scallops, periwinkles, all the typical Delaware beach shells. I pick them up if they have interesting colors, or maybe nice vintage (weathered) look. I've been collecting a lot of whelks to use wired in drapey clumps with my handmade bows for outdoor holiday decorations or as a kind of trellis under our deck in the back yard. Also, I've turned pretty, sea-worn flat oyster shells into necklaces.
I have lots of booty, not just from beach walks in Delaware but also from walks all over in our travels and from running roads and trails and streets. Stopping to examine "road kill" is something we do, and even if we are driving, we often will make a U-turn or go around the block or take an exit to come about and pull over to retrieve someone's trash, whether it was something tossed or something lost.
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| Magpie! |
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