A couple of days ago, my friend, Ron, gave me a great gift. He showed me the way to the sea. Standing on the top of a bluff, we could look 150 feet straight down to see the waves lapping the shoreline. But without wings, those last 150 feet were intimidating. Ron said, “follow me.”
He stepped through a slight notch in the land, and a path opened to reveal a series of dips in the earth that acted like steps. These dips were well worn by others that had trod them before, and step-by-step we ventured down the side of the bluff. Climbing over a fallen tree that had been claimed by the wind, a set of train tracks and a rock wall, we found ourselves on the beach itself with the open sea before us. The sea did not disappoint.
Filling our lungs with the rich essence of low tide mixed with the clean scent of salt, I knew I had found my way home again. The sea has always been in my blood, which was leached from different European shorelines. Since my early years, I have always felt most at home with the sea - in it, on it, or under it.
Two days later, while walking along the beach, I encountered some old shipwrecks along the shoreline. It was then that I met Curt. He was warning me to stay off his property, which extended down the water’s edge - wherever the tide decided it would be that day. Curt’s family had always lived by the sea, and we started talking about the differences between the shores on the East Coast, where I grew up, and the West Coast, where Curt did.
I was relating to Curt how, on the East Coast, we would awake in the morning to the smashing sound of clam shells being dropped from above by the sea gulls, who would then have their feast. I was surprised that the same thing did not happen in the West. Curt revealed that it did happen when he was young, but now the clams have all but disappeared.
It was then I realized the biggest difference between the two coasts, i.e. railroads. Because the East Coast is generally irregular and flat, the railroads were located a few miles inland. That precious dancing line between land and sea, where nutrients and life thrive, has been bisected by the railroads on the West Coast. Faced with a continuous series of bluffs, the rails were built right along the shore. The nutrients are blocked, the clams are dying out, and even the orcas, much further up the food chain, are disappearing.
The sea is truly a gift, but like any living thing, it requires respect and nourishment. Ironically, someone could make the same observation about senior citizens.
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