...and I am on it and I love it. I could only smile and chuckle to myself as I sat on the jetty at Ponce Inlet watching the surf roll in and the beach fade into the distance. The weather forecast for South Dakota called for 1 to 2 feet (yes feet!) of snow in the western part of the state with winds approaching 100 (yes 100!) miles per hour! The late March snow storm was supposed to roll east across the state and bring rain, snow, cold and wind to my side of South Dakota as well. Sitting on the warm rocks along the jetty, listening to the rolling waves beneath my feet and watching the surfers ride the white crests of foam in the distance made the mid-western storm seem alien to me. I have discovered that the ocean, time and distance have a strange relationship to one another. Minutes, hours and even days can be lost to, spent on or simply consumed by the ocean. The shear size of the ocean makes all things relative. It feels similar to the vast open spaces that this flat-lander calls home, yet the ocean eats up distance like no South Dakota prairie or wheat field ever could. Countless waves roll across the water endlessly, yet out of this endlessness will appear a small flock of pelicans or gulls. They will materialize out of nowhere, pass before my eyes, and then fade into the distance as fast as they appeared.
...I spent 4 days at a beach near Venice after my last show in Jupiter. There I discovered that becoming a full time beach bum is a career worth pursuing. My day on the beach would start around mid-morning. I would first have to thread my way through the huddles of shark’s teeth seeking tourists near the public beach. After I had dodged most of the down turned heads I would run several miles up the beach, almost to the next public beach, but not into the next beach’s huddling masses. There I would cool off in the Gulf and proceed to do my own version of the Shark’s Tooth Shuffle in relative privacy. I would either walk along the surf’s edge and try to grab the occasional tooth before it rolled back into the deeper water or simply squat in the surf and wait for the water to do the work and bring the teeth to me. I found that both approaches had their benefits. Shuffling allowed you to cover more ground, and in theory allowed you to see more teeth,...but you had to be constantly racing ahead to new virgin territory before the next guy got there. Squatting assured that any new teeth that washed ashore directly around you were yours and yours only...but only if you defended your area of squat from any interlopers. After 4 days of using both techniques extensively, I can say with certainty that dumb luck is the best and most reliable approach to employe when looking for ancient shark’s teeth...and beer. After what were apparently several hours or even whole afternoons of squatting or shuffling, I would run back down the beach, once again cool off in the Gulf, and then locate my cooler of beach bum food stuffs. My small cooler contained one bottle of water, smelly blue cheese, dry Italian sausage, crusty bread...and two ice cold beers! My next hours were spent emptying the cooler, working on my tan, watching the tourists shuffling by and planning out my next days menu...tough work if you can get it.
...my zip-lock bag is only partially filled with those ancient shark’s teeth and the top of my head is now very tan from the days on that beach. My mind’s eyes is filled to overflowing with visions, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of those 4 days. Enough for a life time? No, only a beginning...a beach bum’s job is never done.
...I spent 4 days at a beach near Venice after my last show in Jupiter. There I discovered that becoming a full time beach bum is a career worth pursuing. My day on the beach would start around mid-morning. I would first have to thread my way through the huddles of shark’s teeth seeking tourists near the public beach. After I had dodged most of the down turned heads I would run several miles up the beach, almost to the next public beach, but not into the next beach’s huddling masses. There I would cool off in the Gulf and proceed to do my own version of the Shark’s Tooth Shuffle in relative privacy. I would either walk along the surf’s edge and try to grab the occasional tooth before it rolled back into the deeper water or simply squat in the surf and wait for the water to do the work and bring the teeth to me. I found that both approaches had their benefits. Shuffling allowed you to cover more ground, and in theory allowed you to see more teeth,...but you had to be constantly racing ahead to new virgin territory before the next guy got there. Squatting assured that any new teeth that washed ashore directly around you were yours and yours only...but only if you defended your area of squat from any interlopers. After 4 days of using both techniques extensively, I can say with certainty that dumb luck is the best and most reliable approach to employe when looking for ancient shark’s teeth...and beer. After what were apparently several hours or even whole afternoons of squatting or shuffling, I would run back down the beach, once again cool off in the Gulf, and then locate my cooler of beach bum food stuffs. My small cooler contained one bottle of water, smelly blue cheese, dry Italian sausage, crusty bread...and two ice cold beers! My next hours were spent emptying the cooler, working on my tan, watching the tourists shuffling by and planning out my next days menu...tough work if you can get it.
...my zip-lock bag is only partially filled with those ancient shark’s teeth and the top of my head is now very tan from the days on that beach. My mind’s eyes is filled to overflowing with visions, sounds, smells, tastes and textures of those 4 days. Enough for a life time? No, only a beginning...a beach bum’s job is never done.
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