Storms

Last August, I went to the beach when a hurricane was lurking over the Florida Keys. This may seem silly. It certainly wasn't a beautiful day by most people's standards. but the forecast made it clear that the storm - Hurricane Isaac - would cross over into the Gulf of Mexico.

It was a big storm, as you can see from this image of it (below) as it made landfall, so the effects were felt for hundreds of miles. But we weren't likely to get too much rain or devastating wind, and the beach can be inspirational, even in lousy weather.

So I went.

Days like that offer great opportunites to think, and to appreciate. I stopped at the Titusville causeway, and saw dozens of pigeons huddling under the leeward side of the bridge. I guess that's what they do during hurricanes. I wish I had taken a picture.

I also saw an older man who was by himself, sitting in his car watching people fishing by the boat ramp, even in the damp wind. On the trunk of his car was a breast cancer awareness sticker - one of the ribbon things that have become so popular. His license tag was a Florida specialty plate that showed his support for hospice care. It dawned on me that those two things were probably related. And that, together, they explained why he was alone.

I made it to the far end of the beach, and, of course,  no one was in sight. There was an old shirt tied to a stick that had been jabbed into the sand, some sort of primitive wind gage. It was a bit spooky to be alone in a storm, in an area where there is almost no evidence of humanity. It was also spooky to see how high the ocean was.

The strip of land that separates the sea from Mosquito Lagoon is narrow here, in some areas less than a hundred yards - not far past the green peak of the dune on the left in the last two photographs (below). In years past, there was much more sand here; the ocean's edge was sometimes a hundred yards from the dune. If the ocean ever gets over the dune, it's downhill from there to the river. Once that happens (and I'm sure it will, at some point), the landscape and seascape here will be altered dramatically.

For fear of being cut off by the sea, I didn't continue past this point. Technically, a back country permit is required to go past the sign, although I've never seen that rule enforced.

Days like that are different from the usual beach day. It's normally such a happy place for me, so it  was a bit unnerving to see it so gloomy and disturbed. Each time I visit, as I watch the sand slipping away with the tide, and the sea creeping inexorably to its reunion with Mosquito Lagoon, I can't help but think in cliches because they are so true. Things change. Nothing is certain.

Eventually, I went back over the causeway, grabbed a beer at Crackerjack's, walked the fishing pier in a slight drizzle and watched the birds take shelter from the wind.

A few hard-core regulars were there, probably because they had nothing better to do. There were a few people fishing, too, probably because they had to catch dinner. Or go hungry.

There is something about the ocean, even when it's raining, and the wind is gusting, and the sun is obscured by clouds. It's so easy to just sit and enjoy.

Late in the day at Crackerjack's, a woman approached me, and introduced herself as Maggie. She had noticed me one day a few weeks before, she said. Rather than sit at the tiki bar with the others, I had walked down to the dock, and relaxed on one of the benches by the boat slips.

She had been curious about me ever since.

She remembered that I just sat with my feet up and watched the sunset. She said she'd never seen anyone else do that. I told her she must be hanging around the wrong people. I did it all the time.

Even during storms.

Once again, it was hard not to think in cliches. I'm sure I told her that the sunsets were often amazing there. That it was nice to get away from the meaningless chatter at the bar. That dolphins often frolicked there in the late afternoon. That anhingas stood on the end of the dock drying their wings. That even the smallest things could make you smile, if you stopped to pay attention.

She left after a while. She had ridden there with friends, and it was time for them to go. But I'm sure I'll see her again. The whole afternoon reminded me of the one thing I always think to myself every time I watch the sun set on the water. Every day is a gift.