"The Marginal World", from The Edge of the Sea, by Rachel Carson
Only the most hardy and adaptable can survive in a region so mutable, yet the area between the tide lines is crowded with plants and animals. In this difficult world of the shore, life displays its enormous toughness and vitality by occupying almost every conceivable niche. Visibly, it carpets the intertidal rocks; or half hidden, it descends into fissures and crevices, or hides under boulders, or lurks in the wet gloom of sea caves. Invisibly, where the casual observer would say there is no life, it lies deep in the sand, in burrows and tubes and passageways. It tunnels into solid rock and bores into peat and clay. It encrusts weeds or drifting spars or the hard, chitinous shell of a lobster. It exist minutely, as the film of bacteria that spreads over a rock surface or a wharf piling; as spheres of protozoa, small as pinpricks, sparkling at the surface of the seas; and as Lilliputain beings swimming through dark pools that lie between the grains of sand.
June 30, 2008
On Being a Beach Bum
Living the life of a beach bum: spending all my time on the seashore, chasing hot California girls, fishing and eating my catch - a romantic life! Growing up in New York I thought living in California and hanging on the beach would be a fun exciting life, and one that I had hoped to experience. In my young mind I envisioned all night beach parties with bonfires, music, drinking, and of course lots of attractive California girls. Days were spent recuperating and enjoying the hot sunny beaches and staying cool in the shade of a coconut tree and swimming in the ocean. I‘m not sure where the money was suppose to come from but for some reason I never imagined working. Of course, these were the ideals of a younger person growing up in what I thought was boring New York and being raised by strict Italian parents. Now that I am nearly 60 and live part-time on the Pacific seashore of central Mexico, I do not miss the imagined bonfires with loud music and fun parties; but I do take tequila and beer in moderation, and lucky for me, my wife just happens to be a hot California girl.
I find coastal living to be so much more than I envisioned as a young man. Living on the beach today, without the preoccupations of a young person to always be doing, going, and chasing; having an abundance of energy and exuberance that needs to be spent on youthful endeavors, I enjoy my quiet time when I can. I contemplate, observe, smell, and touch my new environment. Living only 100 yards or so, depending on the tide, from the waters edge, I am continually awed by the incredible, raw power of and variety of life in the Pacific Ocean. The constant waves crashing thunderously on the beach are both soothing and a source of constant awareness of the closeness and power of the ocean. At nighttime lying quietly in bed, I can feel the house vibrate when an exceptionally large wave crashes; in my half-sleep, I wonder how close the wave is to the house? Is there a bigger one behind it? The winds are also a constant on our beach with a light offshore breeze starting at daybreak and then swinging to the northwest and increasing as the day progresses. By afternoon we have a strong wind that often creates white caps; and by dusk it is quiet again. We also get south/southwest winds, which are generally associated with storms and rain.
In my mind, a beach bum leads a simple, carefree life, while living on the beach and eating out of the ocean. So how am I doing in living this life style . . .
On being a beach bum’s wife (a response from Sharon)
The truth is: The beach bum does chase his one attractive California girl, more than he watches the waves or the beach creatures. And he does drink beer and tequila. He may have waited till he was 60 but now he is making up for lost time. (This paragraph was added by Sharon).
July 3, 2008
Tropical Storm Douglas
In the late afternoon of July 1 the beginning of Tropical Storm Douglas began here in Tenacatita. It started as a stiff wind and dark clouds rolling in from the south/southwest. Within the hour, the winds increased and the rains began. Over the next few hours, as dark set in, the winds increased to a point were they were making an eerie howling sound. During the night we could hear the wind and rain beating against the house, and while lying huddled quietly together in bed, we could hear numerous thudding sounds outside, but we didn’t know what it was. At one point, a five gallon bucket left on the roof by the workers started rolling around making loud thudding sounds on the roof until finally it blew off and landed with a loud crash in the garden next to the bedroom. This spooked us! And then there was the ocean, with it’s loud crashing waves, glowing white and foamy in the darkness. We both slept fitfully that night.
Clean-up of Tenacatita Beach
We awoke to the same sounds that we went to sleep with: howling, shrieking winds, rain beating against the house, and thunderous crashing waves. We dressed and went outside under our ramada to experience the storm we slept through and was still ongoing. It was an incredible experience of sight and sound: the wind strength was such that all the branches on every palm tree for as far as you could see were bent straight out, waving wildly, and facing in the same direction. We could see giant palm branches sailing through the air and the sound of coconuts falling to the ground all around. Beach litter, plastic bottles, large chunks of Styrofoam, tangled pieces of rope and fishing nets, where flying up the beach faster than a person could run. The rains fell in torrents, blowing sideways in dense, gray sheets, reducing visibility to tens of feet. Rivulets of water started flowing from the top of the sand dune, and coalesced into small streams running down our driveway and forming a small lake at the bottom next to the main road. We walked the beach at high tide, keeping a respectable distance from the breakers, and were awed by how much higher the ocean was from normal; there was an obvious ocean surge that was intense and scary. The ocean was a wild mess, with breakers crashing one after another, with no space between them; they were violent, churning and tossing themselves into a giant roiling, foaming surf that rushed far up the beach, ending as huge piles of suds that were caught by the winds and hurled down the beach along with the litter.
The storm never hit land here, staying out at sea. Yet it was a powerful, dangerous storm, and caused us much worry. Here on our beach, which is open ocean, at high tide the rushing waves reached to the bottom of the vegetation on the dune that our house sits on, but never was our house threatened by ocean waves. We did however find two small water leaks in our roof, and for the most part our house is strongly constructed. Not everyone fared as well as us: in Tenacatita there was considerable damage go Palapa roofs which were blown away or ripped to pieces. There was also water damage from the ocean surge that washed away tables and chairs from the restaurant, and in all the beach restaurants the water washed away sand, or deposited sand where unwanted. Of course, everyone had something blown away never to be seen again, and every leak in a roof or wall was revealed! The storm caused much flooding in La Manzanilla and in Melaque, which you can read about and see pictures off in Sharon‘s blog page: http://www.keepupwithsharon.blogspot.com. For those of us from Tenacatita to Emiliano Zapata, the storm caused a 34 hour power outage. It was a storm to remember.
“That the sea, with its multiform and mysterious hosts, its savage and senseless rages,” comfortably serves as a divine metaphor. Modified from the short story, Lifeguard, by John Updike.
Only the most hardy and adaptable can survive in a region so mutable, yet the area between the tide lines is crowded with plants and animals. In this difficult world of the shore, life displays its enormous toughness and vitality by occupying almost every conceivable niche. Visibly, it carpets the intertidal rocks; or half hidden, it descends into fissures and crevices, or hides under boulders, or lurks in the wet gloom of sea caves. Invisibly, where the casual observer would say there is no life, it lies deep in the sand, in burrows and tubes and passageways. It tunnels into solid rock and bores into peat and clay. It encrusts weeds or drifting spars or the hard, chitinous shell of a lobster. It exist minutely, as the film of bacteria that spreads over a rock surface or a wharf piling; as spheres of protozoa, small as pinpricks, sparkling at the surface of the seas; and as Lilliputain beings swimming through dark pools that lie between the grains of sand.
June 30, 2008
On Being a Beach Bum
Living the life of a beach bum: spending all my time on the seashore, chasing hot California girls, fishing and eating my catch - a romantic life! Growing up in New York I thought living in California and hanging on the beach would be a fun exciting life, and one that I had hoped to experience. In my young mind I envisioned all night beach parties with bonfires, music, drinking, and of course lots of attractive California girls. Days were spent recuperating and enjoying the hot sunny beaches and staying cool in the shade of a coconut tree and swimming in the ocean. I‘m not sure where the money was suppose to come from but for some reason I never imagined working. Of course, these were the ideals of a younger person growing up in what I thought was boring New York and being raised by strict Italian parents. Now that I am nearly 60 and live part-time on the Pacific seashore of central Mexico, I do not miss the imagined bonfires with loud music and fun parties; but I do take tequila and beer in moderation, and lucky for me, my wife just happens to be a hot California girl.
I find coastal living to be so much more than I envisioned as a young man. Living on the beach today, without the preoccupations of a young person to always be doing, going, and chasing; having an abundance of energy and exuberance that needs to be spent on youthful endeavors, I enjoy my quiet time when I can. I contemplate, observe, smell, and touch my new environment. Living only 100 yards or so, depending on the tide, from the waters edge, I am continually awed by the incredible, raw power of and variety of life in the Pacific Ocean. The constant waves crashing thunderously on the beach are both soothing and a source of constant awareness of the closeness and power of the ocean. At nighttime lying quietly in bed, I can feel the house vibrate when an exceptionally large wave crashes; in my half-sleep, I wonder how close the wave is to the house? Is there a bigger one behind it? The winds are also a constant on our beach with a light offshore breeze starting at daybreak and then swinging to the northwest and increasing as the day progresses. By afternoon we have a strong wind that often creates white caps; and by dusk it is quiet again. We also get south/southwest winds, which are generally associated with storms and rain.
In my mind, a beach bum leads a simple, carefree life, while living on the beach and eating out of the ocean. So how am I doing in living this life style . . .
On being a beach bum’s wife (a response from Sharon)
The truth is: The beach bum does chase his one attractive California girl, more than he watches the waves or the beach creatures. And he does drink beer and tequila. He may have waited till he was 60 but now he is making up for lost time. (This paragraph was added by Sharon).
July 3, 2008
Tropical Storm Douglas
In the late afternoon of July 1 the beginning of Tropical Storm Douglas began here in Tenacatita. It started as a stiff wind and dark clouds rolling in from the south/southwest. Within the hour, the winds increased and the rains began. Over the next few hours, as dark set in, the winds increased to a point were they were making an eerie howling sound. During the night we could hear the wind and rain beating against the house, and while lying huddled quietly together in bed, we could hear numerous thudding sounds outside, but we didn’t know what it was. At one point, a five gallon bucket left on the roof by the workers started rolling around making loud thudding sounds on the roof until finally it blew off and landed with a loud crash in the garden next to the bedroom. This spooked us! And then there was the ocean, with it’s loud crashing waves, glowing white and foamy in the darkness. We both slept fitfully that night.
Clean-up of Tenacatita BeachWe awoke to the same sounds that we went to sleep with: howling, shrieking winds, rain beating against the house, and thunderous crashing waves. We dressed and went outside under our ramada to experience the storm we slept through and was still ongoing. It was an incredible experience of sight and sound: the wind strength was such that all the branches on every palm tree for as far as you could see were bent straight out, waving wildly, and facing in the same direction. We could see giant palm branches sailing through the air and the sound of coconuts falling to the ground all around. Beach litter, plastic bottles, large chunks of Styrofoam, tangled pieces of rope and fishing nets, where flying up the beach faster than a person could run. The rains fell in torrents, blowing sideways in dense, gray sheets, reducing visibility to tens of feet. Rivulets of water started flowing from the top of the sand dune, and coalesced into small streams running down our driveway and forming a small lake at the bottom next to the main road. We walked the beach at high tide, keeping a respectable distance from the breakers, and were awed by how much higher the ocean was from normal; there was an obvious ocean surge that was intense and scary. The ocean was a wild mess, with breakers crashing one after another, with no space between them; they were violent, churning and tossing themselves into a giant roiling, foaming surf that rushed far up the beach, ending as huge piles of suds that were caught by the winds and hurled down the beach along with the litter.
The storm never hit land here, staying out at sea. Yet it was a powerful, dangerous storm, and caused us much worry. Here on our beach, which is open ocean, at high tide the rushing waves reached to the bottom of the vegetation on the dune that our house sits on, but never was our house threatened by ocean waves. We did however find two small water leaks in our roof, and for the most part our house is strongly constructed. Not everyone fared as well as us: in Tenacatita there was considerable damage go Palapa roofs which were blown away or ripped to pieces. There was also water damage from the ocean surge that washed away tables and chairs from the restaurant, and in all the beach restaurants the water washed away sand, or deposited sand where unwanted. Of course, everyone had something blown away never to be seen again, and every leak in a roof or wall was revealed! The storm caused much flooding in La Manzanilla and in Melaque, which you can read about and see pictures off in Sharon‘s blog page: http://www.keepupwithsharon.blogspot.com. For those of us from Tenacatita to Emiliano Zapata, the storm caused a 34 hour power outage. It was a storm to remember.
“That the sea, with its multiform and mysterious hosts, its savage and senseless rages,” comfortably serves as a divine metaphor. Modified from the short story, Lifeguard, by John Updike.
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