Sand reclaims steps to the beach
Last spring the beach underwent an intensive, and extensive, beach renewal program. For months a huge barge floated offshore piping sand collected from the ocean bed onto the beach. A herd of bulldozers carved massive pools in the beaches into which the sand was pumped out of massive black pipes. Dark brown ocean sand blew high into the sky out of the wide open mouths. That sand mixed with sea water filled the holes and seabirds swirled overhead, stood in streams and audaciously plucked stunned blood worms and mollusks and fishes out of the fray, screaming with delight. It was carnage.
Sand, dollar weed and fence
This is common practice along shorelines. It’s not just here. Man wants to build as close to the ocean as possible. However, doing so they threaten the very environment within which they want to live. They threaten their own homes, their own businesses. Dunes and sea oats and dollarweed and a gazillion native beach plants are there for a reason. They protect. And, even with them Nature will not be denied. Beaches change naturally. Ebb and flow. Nature reclaims its Sacred Space.
Build your houses if you wish and plan grand steps to take you to the beach, but this is what happens. It’s inevitable. The beach was “renourished” less than a year ago to the tune of over 5 million dollars and already that sand is gone. It’s gone. Only now are the shells beginning to return and the beach has returned to the shape we found it in when we moved here – undulating and steeper. That’s the way it wants to be.
Last spring, after the barges and pipes and bulldozers finally left the beach I went to the beach to sit, to walk, to experience what they’d done. The beach had easily tripled in depth and was flatter, sloping nicely out into the sea. The disconcerting part to me was the knowledge that I was sitting on Sacred Ground. The smell was that of decomposing sea creatures, and that odor lasted for weeks. As the unrelenting ocean waves began tearing into the new sand I found during my morning walks the shells of lightning whelks, channel whelks, moon snails, lettered olives – shells that were thick enough to survive the trauma of being sucked off the ocean floor, rushed through thousands of feet of piping and thrown into the air. The creatures within them were not so lucky.
Unnatural cliffs of sand gradually eroding, going back to the sea
As the beach recovers the district is already planning the next renourishment. Apparently, this is done every 3 years, give or take. I am not looking forward to it.