Quote of the Day “The world is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.” –St. Augustine
TB finds himself this peaceful Sunday morning in Folly Beach, South Carolina watching the birds and the sunrise and the ocean. I never see the sunrise at home. For one thing, the trees would block it until it was already too high to look upon; but more importantly, when at home I need my sleep. Not so on vacation. I know the idea of rising early when one isn’t compelled to is anathema to many; but for me somehow the factors of choice and newness and the desire to see all I can of a different place overwhelms my usual desire to stay in bed as long as possible. So at six I arose and went for a beach walk and gazed to the east until I had to look away. Then I turned around and came back to report what I saw.
Before the orange ball appeared on the horizon, there were very few folks out. Maybe a couple dozen looking both ways. Ten minutes later the sun was bright and a couple hundred folks were out. I wonder why they didn’t get up just a bit sooner to see the best part of the show?
I saw several distinct beach archetypes. The leathery old guy jogger was first to catch my eye. I swear to God, I think there is a secret society of these dudes. Every beach I have ever been to has one. One, no more. Unlike the sith, they apparantly do not take on apprentices. There are always a couple of locals, usually over seventy. You can recognize them because instead of speaking when you pass they sneer as if to say, this is MY beach outsider–how dare you part timers sully my pristine privileged view. There were several shell stoopers. There are a lot of pretty shells on the beach, and sometimes I pick one up. But I never save them. What would I do with them? Two overweight girls were feeding seagulls. I felt a bit sorry for them. I imagine the beach can be a difficult place for girls like this. But they seemed to be having a grand old time, so perhaps my sympathy was misplaced. Another truism of early morning beach walks is that the girls who reign over the sandy world as high priestesses of sun worship do not take their prone thrones until several hours later. The morning is for old guys and aging guys mostly, though not exclusively. One of the almost aged guys on the early morning beach is also the metal detector guy. In his navy shorts, short sleeved button down (with pocket) and sandals, he appears as the ever hopeful and expectant treasure hunter. I wonder what kind of crap he finds? Metal detecting kind of intrigues me. But I’ll never do it. I don’t like sandals. Also, I think they may be a private club whose members agree to divide and stake their territories. Never more than one of them on a beach at a time. Say….could these guys be the missing apprentices?