Title: White Crest Beach in Cape Cod
Date Occurred: June 24, 1990
Date Written: July 7, 1990
Date Prepared for the Web Site: March 16, 2019
Written By: Joel T. Kant
Copyright (c) 2019 by Joel T. Kant
At eleven in the morning on a warm and sunny Sunday morning, Gary Choncholas knocked at my door. I was busy programming my computer. Gary said that he was driving out to Cape Cod and wanted to know if I wanted to come. The rest of the regular gang had not been able to come for various reasons.
He didn't have to twist my arm. I saved my file and shut down the computer. I grabbed a swimming suit, a towel, and suntan lotion, then was ready to go.
We made very good time down there. We encountered other cars but there were no traffic tie-ups.
As Gary drove his car that he sometimes jokingly called a rice rocket, he told me that he had been to this beach many times. This was the last weekend of the summer that parking at the beach was still free. Given we were both bachelors, Gary teased that there were always many young women at this particular beach.
In a couple hours, we were there. I usually avoiding going to Cape Cod because I disliked the typically heavy traffic. There were a few slowdowns this trip, but not nearly as bad as I had heard about from others for this trip in the past.
Gary parked for free. We got out of the car. Just past the parking lot, a steep hill made of sand with sparse grass growing in it dropped down to the beach. Gary stood at the top of the hill and looked back and forth.
A woman sat up from a blue blanket and waved. Gary knew her, and identified her as Cheryl. He also said she was married.
After visiting the restroom to put on my suit, I walked out to the blue blanket. Gary was asking Cheryl about people I didn't know. However, one of these people I did not know was important. Cheryl said that Bob would be arriving in about twenty minutes. Bob is Cheryl's husband. Everybody else Gary had mentioned hadn't come to the beach that day.
Other than Cheryl, most of the other young women on the beach seemed to be under the age of twelve. Technically, that made Gary's tease on the drive down here true.
Bob arrived carrying a bicycle helmet and carrying either a nylon backpack or bikebag.
Gary announced that he was going jogging on beach. Bob and Cheryl didn't feel like running, but I did.
Running behind Gary, I could see sweat pouring down his back. His feet sank three to four inches in the soft sand. I could feel my own feet doing the same. It made running much more difficult.
The dark wet sand that the water had receded from was much firmer. Running on it was much easier. I tended to stay closer to the water than Gary. I paid for my laziness when I failed to get out of the way of a returning wave and my running shoes got soaked!
After we returned, I took off my shoes and stood in the cold water. After the run, I felt very hot and the water felt incredibly cold. I stood in one place, unwilling to make the plunge.
Cheryl ran past me and dived headlong into an oncoming wave. Gary followed right behind her. Bob followed a little slower.
Following their example, I also ran out and dove into a wave. The water really was cold, but not unbearably so.
After swimming for a while, we returned to the blankets and towels. We ate cookies, grapes, and cheese.
Looking out in the water, I noticed a bunch of people, mostly young men, were out in the water with regular surfboards and boogie boards. About twenty to thirty of them were clumped into one spot. It seemed strange to me that they didn't disperse themselves along the beach so they wouldn't run into each other.
Bob explained that that small spot had the best waves.
Gary told stories about his recently completed three-week trip to Greece. Bob and Cheryl would put in some stories of their own about when they were in South America.
After the story telling had died down, Bob pulled out a small backgammon set out of his nylon bag. He and Cheryl set it up and played it in a manner that suggested that they had played many times before.
Gary mentioned that old men in Greece spent endless hours playing backgammon.
As they played, Bob explained the rules to Gary. Gary was going to be ready for his next trip to Greece.
As I ignored the game, four military fighter jets flew quickly by. The sound trailed considerably from the jets.
Cheryl lost the first game. She and Gary teamed up for the second game against Bob. This time they won.
Much later, the tide had pulled the water line out considerably. Running then would have been much easier.
The receding water left an island of sand. Bob talked about a time when he played volleyball on such a temporary island. The boundaries for getting the ball out were determined by the water. This meant the court size would change.
The four of us waded out to the temporary island. We didn't bring a volleyball net.
Gary and Bob started hopping up and down. I couldn't figure out what they were doing, so I asked.
Gary pointed out that jumping on the dark wet sand makes the sand turn briefly white.
After wading back from the island, Gary dug into the sand with his feet. Under an inch of sand were many rounded pebbles. Gary pointed out that when we went swimming earlier, he had noticed small pebbles--not sand--under his feet where he stood up.
By now, the beach was nearly empty and peacefully quiet. Cheryl said that the beach was often quiet like this on weekdays, but not usually so on a Sunday. She and Bob were camping out on Cape Cod so had been there on weekdays.
As we got up to leave, I noticed that Gary was visibly sunburned. Gary had a reasonably good tan after his vacation in Greece and hadn't used any suntan lotion.
My skin was a very pale white. I had liberally used Coppertone with a rating of 25. I still had sunburn in the center of my back. I hadn't been able to reach the center of my back with the lotion.
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