Ah, Shawbost. When I stayed on a croft 10 years ago, this was my local beach and I made several trips to it over my visit. So, of course, I had to check out it out all these years later, only to find it unchanged and as remote and wild as I remembered it.
I was surprised to see one new thing though, several paddle boarders taking advantage of the sunny day before the wind picked up. The wetsuits, the vans, the buckets of water to rinse things off felt so familiar, a half a world away from the surfers in Santa Cruz, but the spirit and the friendliness was the same and we had a brief chat about the weather and the water (sun good, wind a wee bit challenging, and water cold, cold, cold.)
The tide was coming in as I started walking down the beach, so I hustled my way along before the sand disappeared under the relentless march of the water. If you time it wrong, all you get is cobblestones to scramble across, not nearly as easy as the soft, white sand.
The western edge of the beach is where I used to enter, and the rocks are still scattered about at mid-tide, just as I remembered. Last time, I climbed up that green hill and out to the Atlantic, but today was a colder and more windy day so I stayed on the beach and looked for shells instead. Found some good ones, putting them in my pocket to sort out later; some for me, some for a great-niece whose birthday present, although late, will be special things from my trip abroad.
It’s the colors of the water on the Lewis beaches that I love. The varying hues of blues and greens as the light comes and goes are gorgeous and I spent a fair amount of time trying to capture that with my camera. I’m never quite satisfied with my efforts, but I keep trying.
As I walked, I thought about the changes in me since I’d been here last. A big, globe-trotting job then, retired now. A city dweller then, a vagabond wandering back roads and small towns now. A desire to be more creative then, running my own website now, with words and photographs of whatever I choose to share, whenever I want.
I’m older, but am I wiser? I’m feeling my years now, feeling the loss of my second parent and first sibling in the last decade, as well as losing friends near and far. Ah, this thing called life, it’s hard to figure out. Walking on a beach helps me sort out my thoughts. I guess that’s why I came back to this beach after a decade, to see who I am now, compared to that younger version of myself that was just starting to think about life after work and what “older” might mean.
By the time I finished my walk out and back along the expanse of beach, the tide had completely hidden the kelp and most of the shells. The paddleboarders were right, the wind had definitely picked up and they were packing up their gear for another day. I didn’t have any answers yet, but at least I was thinking about the questions I’d been mostly avoiding the last few years. I headed for the car, but not before one last look, one last photo, one last goodbye to an old friend of a beach.
Where you are is who you are. The inside further inside you the place moves, the more your identity is intertwined with it. Never casual, the choice of place is the choice of something you crave.
Frances Mayes (Under the Tuscan Sun)
Thanks for the contemplative stroll. You expressed many ideas I ponder, from being an orphan now to how things have changed in the last decade. I’m writing full-time now and I still keep the following quote on my desk. “There’s no such thing in anyone’s life as an unimportant day.” – Alexander Woollcott
Salient thoughts (for all of us original Deads as we age) expressed well. And great photos, as usual. Love your beaches.
I confess I got caught up in the pictures and didn’t read the words very carefully, (a risk you take when you post such gorgeous images, especially that last one!) until I had commented about my weekend near water, and then read Mary Harada’s comment. Then I realized I needed to go back and read more carefully. I’m sorry about the loss of your last parent. That was a profound thing for me too. And a sibling…that hasn’t happened to me yet, there are 4 of us. One of my brother’s has talked about that…which one of us might leave first…but it’s not something I can think about too much. I have lost several friends now, and people that I knew long ago. It’s always kind of scary to google someone you haven’t hear from in awhile, more often than not lately they’ve passed away without me knowing. I don’t know when I got older…but it’s been an experience adjusting. Hugs to you in your losses, and please keep posting those beautiful images!
I was camping im the Upper Peninsula of Michigan this past weekend. The beach looks very similar to this, a curved line of sand out to the water, some of them with rocks strewn about. Beautiful, both places!
Looking back at one’s life is always “interesting”. I think about my brother who died not quite a year ago from dementia, and Mak who died nearly 10 years ago from an incurable lung disease, my parents who died so many years ago I do not have enough fingers and toes to keep count. Then there are the friends and colleagues – almost all gone now and I wonder why I am still here and they are not. Thoughts about that are best left to one’s self. As one loses friends – one needs to make new ones – wisdom according to my father who lived to be 102 and knew a thing or two about replacing deceased friends with new ones.
I think of my dad, who had lost almost all his older relatives and most friends by his late 80s. He made new ones where he lived, as I suspect you have too. That sense of community is what I have to work hard to maintain virtually, and I think I’d like a more physical sense of it going forward, as I get older, too.
Your post is beautiful. Today’s quote appropriate.
Best wishes.
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