As the title of my blog indicates, I’m a rabid beachcomber.
I love to scour the beach for shells and consider it a successful trip to the beach when I come home with a perfect specimen.
Our north coast beaches are pretty disappointing when it comes to beach scrounging. I have found some nice intact shells but they’re few and far between.
When I’m in the mood for combing the beach, I generally end up at King Salmon doing the “stoop” WAAAAAY down to see the teeny tiny shells I find there.
I have bottles full of perfect shells, including sand dollars, the size of a pencil eraser.
So small that hundreds fit into a vitamin bottle.
Unfortunately, King Salmon is NOT the beach to enjoy the big waves of an ocean storm.
For that, you must go to the ocean side.
With the weather report
calling for 10-12 foot waves, I took the opportunity to head out to “power poles” on the North Spit after work on Friday.
Since I can’t go on a walk without the dog, Vince and I headed to the beach.
The sun was beginning to drop and the waves glowed but the best part for Vince was the foam.
As the sets would gather strength, churning up the brine, enormous piles of foam would tumble out on to the sand.
Then the wind would catch it and Vince would chase it.
I remember playing the foam as a kid but I’m SURE I didn’t have as much fun as Vince did. Such a simple toy.
And cheap entertainment for both of us.
The water looked oddly thick, like cold lava that rolled up the beach, wrapping our ankles with November chill.
Vince apparently had plans to be elsewhere. China perhaps?
A girl, her pooch and his poop. We clean up after ourselves.
UPDATE: A gratuitous after photo for ya, CPR.
As the title of my blog indicates, I’m a rabid beachcomber. I love to scour the beach for shells and consider it a successful trip to the beach when I come home with a perfect specimen. Our north coast beaches are pretty disappointing when it comes to beach scrounging. I have found some nice intact shells but they’re few and far between. When I’m in the mood for combing the beach, I generally end up at King Salmon doing the “stoop” WAAAAAY down to see the teeny tiny shells I find there. I have bottles full of perfect shells, including sand dollars, the size of a pencil eraser. So small that hundreds fit into a vitamin bottle.
calling for 10-12 foot waves, I took the opportunity to head out to “power poles” on the North Spit after work on Friday. Since I can’t go on a walk without the dog, Vince and I headed to the beach. The sun was beginning to drop and the waves glowed but the best part for Vince was the foam. As the sets would gather strength, churning up the brine, enormous piles of foam would tumble out on to the sand. Then the wind would catch it and Vince would chase it. I remember playing the foam as a kid but I’m SURE I didn’t have as much fun as Vince did. Such a simple toy. And cheap entertainment for both of us.
