Friday, September 3, 2010

still



There's no wind (yet) — it's a strangely still morning — but there are signs. Like the "Refuge Closed" sign I encountered when I attempted to ride my bike out to Sachuest Point yesterday. And boat owners criss-crossing the harbor aboard busy launches as they hustle to add extra lines, remove windage, close through-hull fittings and batten down hatches (really) in preparation for the arrival of Earl ...

Yesterday was windy, actually, though it didn't strike me as anything out-of-the-ordinary. Just one of those days when sand blows across the planked walkways leading to Second Beach, where I'd retreated after meeting the "closed" sign at the point. I've always thought it so cool that sand on land is swept into ripples by wind the same way sand below the surface is swept into ripples by water the same water on the surface is swept into ripples (and ultimately waves) by wind ...

Anyway — I'm having a hard time getting anywhere here — it was just windy enough that lying down was less-than-ideal yesterday, lest one wanted to experience a mild sand-blasting, which doesn't hurt exactly but sand ends up everywhere, everywhere, being most problematic in the eyes and between the teeth. Instead, I walked ...

Earlier in the day, when I was walking on the Cliff Walk (with Grandma Betty and her puppy), the surfers were out at Ruggles. Surfers love a good storm ...

Even last weekend there were signs, although I suppose it's always somewhat windy and surf-happy at Point Judith, where Mr. Betty and I found ourselves on Sunday afternoon. The strange (and obvious) thing is the contrast between conditions on the inside and on the outside of that longlong jetty stretching from lighthouse to channel. There were people scattered all along it: sunning, fishing, walking, sitting ...

I saw one family sitting there — a father with two (very) young kids — tempting the waves (playing chicken??). Or that's how it looked. They'd sit and try not to flinch or move away when big waves struck. Must say, it struck me as not a great idea. Then, later, when we got home, I heard that the search was on for someone who was swept off the rocks in Narragansett that very afternoon. Different locale (by just a few miles), but still ...







Yes, that's a kayak, skirting the rocks ...





Yes, that's a lifeguard, shoring up the signs (and the view) ...




Yes, that's Point Judith (no splash and splash) ...




And, yes — back to Newport — those are towels, succumbing to ripples (shoe or no shoe) ...



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