The sun was beginning to set in the distance as we drove just over the speed limit to the beach.
"Never enough time in a day ," I say to my son. I'm chastising myself for lolligaging and leaving it to the last minute to visit the largest beach in
the area, known for it's spectacular sunsets.
Camera in hand, I'm fidgety. The trees on the road side seem to be in slow motion. It's still a 20 minute drive away and the sky is getting darker
faster than I expected.
The atmosphere is changing as well...There is a haze around everything. A slight fog, not uncommon to this area.
"We'll make it in time ." My son turns to me and says.."But it will be close."
I'm temporarily confident that he's right.
In the distance I see parts of the shoreline. The houses built up alongside almost etheric with the white mist surrounding them...thicker here it
seems.
The streetlights suddenly flicker to life. At the same time as we literally hit a wall of white. A bank of low lying fog across the road. Like driving
through a cloud. The closer we get to the beach, the more dense it becomes and I begin to wonder if I will even be able to see the sun set beneath the
waves.
To the right of me , the crescent moon is tilted and grinning in the sky like a Cheshire cat. This is definitely beginning to feel like a trip down
the rabbit hole.
Ten minutes out and the sky has taken an ominous glow. The sunlight dissipating in the sky is being absorbed by the haze and orange glow is all
encompassing. Again I chastise myself for not being more mindful of the clock , and perhaps the weather reports.
By the time we turn onto the road leading to the beach, there is barely a glimmer of light left. The parking lot is abandoned obviously,as this not a
typical summer evening.
The air is thick with damp and cold as I climb out of the car and race up the boardwalk hoping to catch sight of the last spark before its
extinguished by the Atlantic.
But the sight I'm met with is far from what I anticipated.
It was like I climbed the stairway to heaven.
White as far as the eye could see. Only sand under my feet..and white.
I could hear the waves somewhere in the distance , but I could not see them.
A foghorn blew over and over again warning the passing ships of the danger.
I knew the expanse of the beach was vast, and that the tide was at it's lowest point right now. But no matter how much I strained my eyes, I could
see nothing.
My son and I decided, maybe if we just walk a little closer to the water..
Trying to keep sight of the shoreline, we carefully ventured out. The mist enveloped us like a chilling hug. But was so surreal and uninviting. I felt
like we had become the only people left in the world. There was silence but for the water and the foghorn. I didn't even hear our footsteps in the
sand.
We walked and walked. It felt like forever. Still no water. And we lost sight of the shoreline minutes ago.
I could not imagine being a fisherman out in a dory in this. So easily disoriented.
We were both simply enraptured at what we were experiencing. Like being the prey in a horror movie, expecting some creature to emerge from the fog,
covered in seaweed and barnacles and drag us both out to the murky depths, never to be seen again.
The foghorn blew in the distance.
A shiver ran down my spine.
I was covered in goosebumps and felt actual fear.
The sky was getting much darker and we both feared that the tide may come in suddenly and swiftly before we found our way back to shore.
Our footprints were still barely visible in the sand and we knew we had walked straight out, so attempted to walk straight back.
Despite our best efforts, we never did find the water. Considering it surely was all around us.
We did try to take photos and a video but neither could ever do the experience justice.
I have never been so happy to see a shoreline.
As amazing as hauntingly beautiful as this was, I can honestly say I hope I never experience it again.
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