It is officially summer here on the Cape; after two months of nothing but clouds and rain and cold, the sun has a stronghold on the sky. It blazes down with fierce intensity, but alas, it doesn’t daunt that other tell-tale sign of summer: beachgoers. They now litter the beach with their half-naked (or all naked) bodies, obnoxiously brightly colored umbrellas, RV’s, trucks, blasting radios, plastic beach toys, beer, and rugrats. What once seemed a sleepy fishing/gay-and-lesbian-art-scene village is now a tightly-packed city spilling over with sun-dazed tourists. The population jumps from 3,500 in the winter to 12,000 in the summer, and on holidays such as the past Memorial Day Weekend, 35,000 (according to a disgruntled local, so I wouldn’t bet on that.)
So, needless to say, the past few days have been a bit hectic. People on holiday never think rules apply to them in the first place, and there are many rules indeed to protect the poor little plovers. Besides that, the sun and the heat make walking on the beach all day more of a slave drive than a stroll, and my face has been as pink as a pitaya for the last week. There have been some highlights: my coworker Dan and I saved a gull that was near death and completely disabled by a double-ended hook stuck in both its nostril and its foot (we saw it today flying, though it hobbled a bit when it landed), and another coworker and I attempted to rescue a juvenile bald eagle (who turned out to be all right, but we got a great look at it nevertheless!). But all in all, I’m burnt up and burnt-out, tired and grumpy and stuck in a rut. So today, when I instinctively knew that I had reached my limit, I decided to act and go somewhere new: Wellfleet Bay Audubon Sanctuary.
On the journey there I knew it was the perfect idea- driving with the windows down, singing loudly to music to lift my spirits, doing something completely different than the routine. And when I arrived, any doubt I had left my head without a trace. Cool pine forests welcomed me in, and as I got out of the car and started down the trail I almost cried it was so breathtakingly beautiful. Perhaps on a different day the foliage wouldn’t be so vividly green, nor the birdsong so sweet it broke my heart, nor the sunlight so perfectly golden as to cast a magical hue on every particle it touched. But today it did and it was, in my own words, totally awesome.
It only got better as I hiked to Try Island- a speck of forest among a sea of green marsh- and then out to the bay, where I saw shorebirds I couldn’t identify for once, and enjoyed watching them squabble over tidbits of food as they rummaged around in the sand at a frantic pace, peeping insolently at each other. From there I walked out to the ocean, barefoot of course, where the beach was so wide I could wade out about 40 feet from shore and stand as the only still point in the swaying surface of the sea. The water was warm and the velvety smooth touch of the ocean lapped at my ankles softly, beckoning me in, calling me further out to the warm embrace of my ancient home. It gave me chills, the desire was so strong to keep walking out, but I steadied myself against the pull and watched instead as horseshoe crabs deftly scampered their way around me, clambering clumsily onto each other occasionally to mate.
The sky was turning to rainbow sherbet and the sun a ripe Rainier cherry as I reluctantly left the sanctuary. My eyes drank in the light of the honey-colored water the sun so graciously brewed as a thin veil of moisture covered the forests and marshes behind me. I spoke to it as a forlorn lover, professing my gratitude, undying affection, love, loyalty, and promise of return. I could stay there in the arms of the sanctuary all night, forever maybe, basking in the beauty of nature and the unknown. But the gates had to close and I had to get back and prepare myself for another day of work, another day of the savage human civilization. At least now I’m a little more ready for it- I filled my cup with the memory of the honey-colored water and the warm reassurance of the sun that life is, without a doubt, full of good things.
p.s. my camera was dead, but I'll get some photos up soon!
