Secret Beach . . . .

In whispered words and subtle pointing, rumors of a secret beach were passed along to us. Without specific directions or a name, we mounted our trusty trooper, wearing our suits and off we went heading in the "possible" direction. The dirt road wound and dipped, trying to persuade us to turn back, that we were lost, filled with craziness, but we kept on.

One wrong turn lead to a steep incline that even mountain goats would have shuddered at, and so did we. Another dip almost catapulted us out of the car, but our desire for pristine black sands and a thirst for a new discovery kept us going. Finally we spotted it. There in the distance, down a rutted road with a water ravine scars we crested the lopsided hill and saw it. A cove of dark rocks, sunset golden water and emptiness. Our own secret beach . . . .

Dismounting and a little shaken we cautiously approached the mythical sight, still wondering if we were dehydrated and imagining the scene before us. We weren't, the fence that warned "No cars on the beach" and a scattering of empty plastic bottles and cans told us what we saw was real. It was amazing, beautiful and slightly discovered. No one was there, but there were signs. Still it didn't ruin the effect and happiness of finding a new spot. . . but we were not alone. . .

As we admired the breathtaking scene before us, something moved. Actually the whole ground moved. . . the entire shore was home to hermit crabs. Millions of them scuttled and scurried about their business. From shells the size of my pinky finger nail to a balled fist, they covered the sands and it was a thrill. Usually the ones I'd seen were too used to people, and hid inside their shells once your shadow fell across them, but here . . . well there was no fear.

Carefully making our way across the shores, we explored our new found territory and discovered ripple cut wave rocks, textured tide pools, and the thrill of childlike wonder. As the sun began to sink beneath the waves, the golden rays shadowed the beach and we took seats upon bone white logs to watch it go. As darkness began to fall, we trudged back to our car and with a last longing look back and whispered wish of return, we left.

I'm going back though . . . I want to spend more time with the hermits, and take some pictures, to prove that it is real. It was, it had to be, otherwise where did we go . . . .