I write this listening to Loving a Person by Sara Groves on lala at http://lala.com/z3oO
I am not there at this moment on south beach in point roberts, washington… this is a photo from last autumn… but i wanted to be there in my mind today… on a little beach arm so low and close to the sea it spends half or more of its time beneath the sea… covered in a thin layer of tide flowing in and out in and out. To get to this spot i hop over a draining tide water stream, or sometimes i wade the shallow waters coming or going between. Sometimes I go to find it gone and overcome by tide waters, a little atlantis, a wonderland of escape from urban travel and people…
I grew up in a small town with an urban crowd and pollution. A coke plant and steel mill chugged out red and black smoke day and night. I imagined as a child the grease-blackened men toiling shirtless in a fiery hell of sparks and molten metal to buy clean little houses and football jerseys for the rest of us. I grew up playing kick the can at dusk in the alleys and falling to sleep midnight with an endless stream of car lights driving across my ceiling from Gallia street. Though i had green hills to explore and even a shale-face waterfall up Dinky hollow where they dumped the soot from the mill floors I never felt free in that environment.
One weekend day I took a hike to see how far the woods would go behind the waterfall… I climbed the steep hill beside it and hiked the stream to its source and beyond. It didn’t take me long to find houses. The woods were pretty limited. I hiked back at dusk disappointed. Funny but my family never knew I wandered so far… and I did it often.
I don’t know what I was looking for, but it seems like maybe my quest was for something endless and quiet… and maybe something washed clean of all the soot.
Maybe this is why I went to the sea and why i keep going back.
On this little arm of beach in the Pacific northwest it is not only connected to the endless but also bears gifts. At any time I come to this spit I may find a creature or a lost burden of some boat or fisherman, some treasure from the sea. Like the world bears me gifts, like the sea herself is saying to me, welcome home, philip, we have missed you.
Uploaded by: flip holsinger on 10th November, 2009.
reminds me of my childhood… exploring the woods near my house, and following the creek to see how far it would go… and i was never missed at home. it was my secret life back then.
Reminds me of myself, as well. I love finding places like that.
What does it say of thee? I have kept hiding here for the past 16yrs. The Point and South Beach are always something a little more special when you are here, even though you and I are rarely on the beach at the same time.
It and I miss your presence
I miss you, Philip. We need to go exploring together again sometime, maybe minus the longboat and shady characters.