The Beachcomber

The road this morning took me east to the oceanfront. I suppose southeast is the more correct orientation as I avoided the main tourist beaches and headed to the remote beaches south of Sandbridge near the Back Bay Wildlife Refuge in southern Virginia Beach. It's a much longer route down narrow, winding roads, but it's always wothwhile as fewer people care to venture this far off the main path.

The beach was all but deserted this morning. It was cloudy and cool with mists and fog in the air, certainly not optimal weather for most beachgoers. A strong northeast wind roused a continually growling surf and the beach was littered with marine vegetation left by the churning, crashing waves. I walked for miles this morning past the occasional shore bird pecking about in the vegetation and small sand crabs scurrying here and there, avoiding the overwash of waves, the gaze of hungry shore birds, and my steps. I don't know honestly how far I walked before retracing my steps back to the access point. It may have been a mile. It may have been two miles. No matter, really. Time and distance meant little on a day like this.