Tropical Storm Colin didn’t turn out to be what many Florida surfers wanted, but for early August when waves are typically nonexistent, who can complain about head high, glassy waves with offshore winds? This narcissistic pic is from Saturday morning. It got bigger and better throughout the day.
We are entering the peak season for hurricanes in the Atlantic. Let’s see what the next couple of months bring…
I post this image of some guys working a Banshee Bungee at Lori Wilson Park in Cocoa Beach, Florida, not so much because it is a fun photo, but because of what a stranger came up to me on the beach and said after I took it. He joked, “Most folks would think it is pretty crazy to launch yourself in to the air on a skim board with a bungee cord, but I want to shake the guy’s hand who decided it was safe enough to get in their way and take some photos.” Ha! I turned 36 this weekend. Guess I still haven’t learned.
On Saturday I fueled up my far-from-fuel-efficient SUV and burned my way out to Upham Beach for the Hands Across the Sand demonstration against offshore oil drilling. I’d never been to Upham, but my Droid’s operating software navigated the asphalt-covered roads flawlessly. It was already a scorcher by 10:30am, so I ran the car’s AC while generously applying sunscreen. I grew thirsty, but fortunately I brought my plastic water bottle, and I tipped it to my lips before striking out to the beautiful white beach and shimmering blue water that millions of tourists travel to Florida every year to see.
The Suncoast Chapter of Surfrider Foundation had their tent out, so I stopped in to sign the petition, peruse their marketing material, and find out when we would be lining up and joining hands. I was a bit early, so I headed out for a swim. I thought, what the hell am I doing here? From the looks of it, a number of Gulf Coast surfers had driven over to the East Coast to take advantage of some rare summer swell. Why hadn’t I done the same? This little demonstration isn’t going to achieve a single thing. And regardless, we’re all hypocrites.
Every year Dr Beach comes out with his top 10 list of “The Best Beaches in America,” and hard-hitting journalists the world over breathe a collective sigh of anticipation resolved. Moments after the press release hits their inboxes, and they’ve diligently copy, pasted, and published it (of course, with a little twist of their own journalistic integrity), they are on the first flight out to Dr Beach’s promised land.
Coopers Beach, the main beach in the village of Southampton on the east end of Long Island, New York took top honors this year. The fact that the water is cold and dark most of the time apparently didn’t factor in to the equation. But congratulations to them. May they be blessed with a bounty of disposable income wielding tourists with bouncy beach balls and boom boxes.
Inevitably, a Florida beach makes it on to the exclusive top 10 list as well. Sneaking on at the enviable number 2 position – Siesta Beach. Right outside of Sarasota, Florida, and just a mere one hour drive south of Tampa, I couldn’t imagine why I had never been there before? Of course, the moment I became privy to this secret little gem, I set out to see what the rest of America was surely drooling over. And there America was.
This is what Siesta Beach was like on a Saturday in early June.
This is what a beach just north of Sarasota near Tampa/St. Petersburg looked like on the very same weekend.
I think we can all agree that PR works; but that doesn’t always mean you should believe the hype.