We did lots of fun things this weekend, but the most relaxing thing we did was take the canoe out for a paddle. We stuck close to home at Green Turtle Pond. It was a beautiful morning—warm and sunny without being either too humid or too warm. The lake was calm and still. The only sound was the splash of our paddles as we made are way around the perimeter.

It’s a nice leisurely workout. Sometimes we just sit and float, watching the sun dance on the water.

The wooden hull of the canoe slips silently and effortlessly through the water. We always draw quite a bit of attention in our beautiful canoe. People going by in other canoes or boats always ask if we made it. We tell them, no, but a good friend did—aren’t we lucky to own such a thing of beauty?

Just as we rounded the corner at the end of our journey we heard a great deal of splashing going on. We decided to see just what was making so much noise.

It was a dog.

At first we couldn’t tell if he was chasing a ball that his owner was throwing out in the water or what. He was sure having fun diving and splashing.

It soon became obvious that he wasn’t chasing anything. He was entertaining himself by diving down and creating flumes of water that he then tried catching in his mouth.

It was the funniest thing we have ever seen. Every time he got out of the water his owner sent him back in to play some more. I could not resist taking photos.

There’s a dog in there somewhere!

Meet Tommy-Boy. His owner thinks he might be part pit bull and part lab. Definitely a water dog at heart.

And so ended another enjoyable paddle around our local pond.

Sitting on the beach we were a perfect captive audience for aerial display advertising. It gave us something to watch other than people and the waves. The small planes flew by slowly, pulling their fluttering ads behind them. This one was the only political one that I saw but it did hit home.

If someone hasn’t yet coined that particular phrase I will call it my own. Get me close to the beach and you’ll have difficulty dragging me away. I could wander for hours, head down, scanning for interesting bits that have washed ashore. Are there any career opportunities for beachcombers?

I like it best when the beach is deserted except for a few people out for their morning exercise. It’s quiet. The only sounds are the high-pitched cry of the gulls and the crash and boom of the waves as they come in, followed by their hissing retreat. So, every morning my feet propel me to the water’s edge. The sand is packed and wet here. My feet leave solid but squishy footprints and my big toe throws up a clump of sand that falls in front of me as I walk.

The sand is like a canvas that is continually in a state of flux. Every time a wave washes over it, objects on the canvas get deposited, rearranged, taken away, or erased. It’s fascinating to me and I never tire of it.  Each morning I am eager to see what the canvas of sand has “painted” for me. Let’s take a look. (Just for the record, everything is photographed the way I found it. No rearranging has been done.)

I call this painting “Three Organisms: Man: Bird: Jellyfish”

“CrabFest”

“Mussel Beach”

“Caught in the Tide Line”

“Jelly Jewel”

“Jelly Jewel Two”

“Hitching a Ride”

“Jelly-Belly”

“The Mermaid’s Necklace”

“Whorled Beauty”

As I stand at the water’s edge, the foam from the breaking wave laps at my ankles. I try to stand upright as the wave pulls back, sucking at me with all its might, trying to pull me into the ocean along with it. It seems to murmur softly, come on, join me in the deep blue sea. The water rushes backwards in a dizzying display, making me feel disoriented and off-kilter. My toes curl under in a desperate attempt to keep a foothold as the sand rushes out from underneath them. My feet sink lower into the sand as the wave retreats in defeat. Not this time old man Neptune—not this time.

I am not alone at the water’s edge. I have a few friends that like it here too.

I think I enjoyed the tiny sandpipers the most. They made me laugh. The constant scurry-hurry back and forth between waves in search of food seemed like a lot of effort for one small morsel. Can you see that it has something in its beak?

Here, look closer:

It’s hard for me to leave all the treasure I find behind. Here is what I took home with me. A shell that’s a bit battered but has a lovely patina to it; several small scallop shells; bits of shell that have been tumbled and polished like smooth stones; an intact cocina shell.

And last but not least, a beautiful wafer-thin piece of polished shell that just happened to have a hole in the right place to use it as a necklace.

Reminders all, of my morning strolls at the water’s edge.

What follows are some photos I took of things that took place in the surf.

This wave appears to have five heads.

Fishing was popular. I’m not quite sure what kind of fish they expected to catch. I should have asked them.

Surfing was another popular thing to do.

The ever watchful lifeguard crew.

This little sandpiper did not like the waves to catch him. When the wave went out he would scurry as fast as his little legs could carry him to the edge of the water and look for food, but when a wave came back in he’d scurry back up the beach. Most of the time he managed to outrun the wave, but sometimes he was caught off guard. Run, little sandpiper, run!

You have to admit, it’s a catchy name: Ship Bottom. I love it. A perfect name for a beach town. That’s where we spent our weekend at the invitation of our neighbors Kim and Mark, at their shore house. I fell in love with its signature water tower. I don’t quite know why.

Ship Bottom is on Long Beach Island, affectionately referred to as “LBI.” LBI is an 18-mile-long narrow barrier island off the mainland, and one of the most popular vacation spots for New Jersyites. Frankly, I had never understood the whole “shore” thing. We had really only visited the boardwalks at Point Pleasant and Seaside Heights and had never spent much more than a few hours at either one. After this weekend, I get it. No wonder it’s so popular.

Ship Bottom itself is a bustling little town. There is a real vacation feel to the streets that are lined with restaurants, gift shops, ice cream stands, and beach rentals. We walked the two short blocks to the beach laden down with beach chairs, umbrella and whatever else we needed for a few hours of sun and sand.

Here are some beach scenes early in the morning before the throngs of beach-goers arrive. Every morning the sand is freshly groomed, erasing all evidence of the day before.

Here is a shot from our “spot” later on:

And here is another shot looking down the beach at midday. Compare this to the second photo of the empty beach above which was taken in the same spot to see the difference. Colorful umbrellas as far as the eye can see!

I felt the name must have some history behind it so I did a little digging. Here is what I found on the Ship Bottom website:
~~~~ Ship Bottom is one of the oldest place names on Long Beach Island.  According to the local historian John Bailey Lloyd, author of “Six Miles at Sea,” the name dates from an unusual shipwreck that occurred in March, 1817.

The captain of a schooner heading south was navigating through a thick fog when he heard cries from the direction of the shoreline.  Encountering a schooner heading north, he alerted Captain Stephen Willets of Tuckerton that there might be a ship in trouble near the shore.  Although Willets and his crew could see nothing in the fog , nor could they hear anything but the clang of their own ship’s bell, they rowed along the outer bar for several hours searching for the endangered ship.  Finally a dark shape appeared—the hull of a ship overturned in the shoals.  Corpses hung from the rigging and bobbed in the frigid sea.  As one of Willets’ men climbed onboard the beached schooner, he heard a noise under his feet—someone tapping the inside of the barnacled hull. 

With an ax, Willets chopped a hole in the ship’s bottom near the keel and, after much struggling, freed the young woman trapped inside.  She spoke no English.  But after being taken ashore, she expressed her gratitude by drawing a cross of thanks in the sand.  No one knows her name or the name of the ship because they were never recorded.  But the place of the shipwreck and the rescue became known as “Ship Bottom.” ~~~~

I will be sharing more photos and more of our experience tomorrow. Stay tuned. Until then feel free to enjoy the Friday night sunset from the rooftop deck.