Low Tide at Plaice Cove In Winter

Plaice Cove is the northernmost of the three Hampton beaches, and there was only one other car in the frozen parking lot today. When Mr. Boat (the yellow lab) and I threaded our way down to the beach, we looked north toward North Hampton and saw no human being, no driver belonging to that car.  Apart from some sea gulls, there were no other living creatures visible on the beach. Even Mr. McKenzie, the harbor seal who perches on his boulder a hundred yards off shore, was nowhere to be seen.

Low tide is when most of the dogs and their owners come to the beach. There is room to run and more dry surfaces. But today, no other dogs, no dog people.

It is true it was 17 degrees with a 20 knot wind, but it was one of the most stunning days of the year to be on the beach. There are 1440 minutes in each day and only 365 days in a year and while those may sound like big numbers, they are finite numbers and nobody knows how many they have left on this planet. How can you miss an opportunity like this, if you live anywhere near this beach?

The beach is never the same, day to day. Some days, it is covered with seaweed two feet deep; some days there are boulders and flotsam. Today, it was carpeted from surf to seawall with smooth rocks, the size of AA eggs, which crunched pleasantly underfoot. 

The wind blew snow vapor off the boulders, white mists  rising like ghosts from the big rocks which form the sea wall below the cottages perched above the beach. And the winter light made everything sparkle. Octagenarians who have their cataracts removed and replaced with new lenses say all the colors look bright, once the yellowed lenses, like dim windows, have been replaced. They say everything looks the way it did when they were children: bright and sharp.  The winter light has the same effect on the rocks and the snow and the houses at the beach. 

We crossed the border into the North Hampton side of the beach.  Ordinarily, we do not cross this line, because the citizens of North Hampton, being what they are, post policemen to write tickets to Hampton dog walkers who allow their dogs off leash, legal in Plaice Cove, but not in North Hampton.  Today, with nobody around, we decided to chance the citation and go forth boldly. The beach changed to smooth sand, sans pebbles and rocks, spread out down to the water's edge. Along the North Hampton beach are cabanas painted bright blue, red and yellow. In the winter light, they looked almost neon.

Mr. Boat chased his bouncing orange ball into the water without hesitation, and returned it for his treat, back and forth,  all the way back to the entrance to the Plaice Cove parking lot. 

Walking in that direction, the wind blows stiff in your face, but it is pleasant, makes you feel alive and tingly. The only sounds along the way are the wind, the pounding surf and the occasional clang of the lanyard on a flag pole, banging in the wind. No flags up poles today; no signs of life in any of the cottages looming above the beach. 

Not a soul on the beach. 

How strange:  the denizens of Hampton should have flocked to the beach today. How lucky they are to live so near. There can be no place on Earth any more beautiful today.