More than satisfactory

Friday, I achieved a goal I’d eyed for over fifty years.

Friday, Lois and I went to the beach again.

No, the goal was not going to the beach. Yes, we did go Monday as well; twice in a week could seem like overdoing it, I know. But given Lois’ teaching schedule during July, it makes sense to grab as many good days at the beach as possible.

So Lois and I gathered our rosebuds while we could. Friday was very beautiful and although when we reached the East Beach location the temperature was still about 70, the air was clear and bright and remained that way. Only the constant wind made conditions less than ideal.

I tired of sitting and decided to walk. Lois elected to remain where she was, working her way with glee through the volumes she’d brought with her, as I set off eastward along the sands.

I determined to walk all the way to the end of the beach, to the breachway through which Charlestown Pond drains into the ocean. Since my family began vacationing in Quonochontaug in 1959, I have wanted to walk the length of the beach (which, to be fair, is only 2.5 miles each way), but, for one reason or another (all of whom are now adults), I could never do. Someone’s legs would give out or stomach need filling, the day would end or turn cold or rainy.

None of these conditions was present on Friday. Walking was about as comfortable as it can ever be. I had a hat, I was slathered with sunblock, I carried a shirt.

And I walked and I walked and I walked. The beach, I observed, was not a perfect crescent as I’ve always thought; it undulated here and there so that the whole is not continuously visible.

I saw piping plovers and least terns. They are protected in a roped off section of beach back towards the dunes along this whole sector with only a few designated passageways for humans. The piping plovers are those little birds that follow the water as it washes in and out along the sands, the plovers’ feet moving so fast you cannot see them. There used to be groups of dozens that would rush up and down before and behind the waves. Now, sadly, the largest group I saw was only five.

The terns, with lovely forked tails, are the swallows of the beach. They’d swoop across the beach and out over the water, skimming and swooping as if they really enjoyed themselves. They’d find a certain height above the sea, slow until they were almost hovering, and look down. When they spotted what they wanted, they’d drop straight down into the water, wings not closed as I’d have thought, but partly open. A moment later, they’d emerge and take off, most of the time with a tiny wiggling fish in their beaks.

And I walked and I walked and I walked. And finally I reached the breachway. The near side of the channel, inaccessible except by paying a serious camping fee or by walking the 2½ miles as I had just done, was deserted. On the further breakwater, a few guys with fishing gear cast their lines. That side is easily accessible from adjacent Charlestown Beach. As at other breachways, water rushed energetically through into the ocean. A cormorant was enjoying riding the current upstream.

The walk was beautiful, both ways, and altogether long enough.

It was time to return to Lois. Our spot on the beach was a long, long way away. It did seem much further going back, and as I stumped along I could reflect that I had not really expected astonishing revelations when I reached the breach and therefore had not been disappointed. And, as I said, a beautiful walk on a beautiful day.