On one of the last days of vacation P and I went for a kayak ride, each in our own boat. P can really paddle I'll tell you. We took off from FIL's marsh and dock using his boats. I found a bottle floating in his marsh and retrieved it. I think that Arthur had recently passed through, forcing us inland as the eye of the storm passed directly over-head overnight at the beach. I collected the bottle and was applauded by a few on-lookers on what appeared to be a very dreamy gazebo type dock outside their trailer, in the trailer park. We boated out to a deserted island. Neither of us got swamped en-route by passing wake-board caliber boats or hotshots otherwise. There was very little beach there on the island-- just a few feet wide, then there was some marsh land on the other side. Beach as berm (or berm as beach, really). The marsh was quite scuzzy; still water; but the beach was pristine on the sound side. We picked up some trash and checked out the shells (to be a jeweler on such a beach would really be something) and weighed the merits of skinny dipping in the middle of the day. Just then a huge boat blasting music full of drunk red fat rednecks blasted upon the beach, cigarette butts spewing over-board and smells wafting. I crafted a joke in my mind about being sea-blocked in my quest to skinny dip in the middle of the day. But red-necks will always have the last laugh.
7/24/14
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