As I descend down the steep slope towards the little pocket beach, my heart lightens in anticipation. The public beach is tucked into a high-end lakeshore neighborhood and hidden from the road above by vegetation and trees. A friend introduced me to it, that seems to be how one finds it, through a small social network of regulars.
On weekends, the grassy knoll fills up with towels and blankets packed in side by side. But on weekday afternoons, the sunny lawn is dotted with small groups of couples or friends - those fortunate to work alternate schedules or work from home who could take advantage of the sparse weekday crowds.
I arrived at just such a time. As I descended the steep slope, my eyes immediately started scanning for a favored spot: close to the shoreline, but off to the side near the shade of some trees so as to have sun and shade options on my blanket throughout the afternoon. This was my lucky day. Few of the regulars had arrived yet and I was able to tuck myself in right next to the rocky beach, at the edge of the grass, on the left-hand side of the park.
Situating myself along the side had other advantages as well. It helped me feel less conspicuous, giving me a vantage point to tuck myself away and people watch without engaging. Though people there were respectful and friendly, I still preferred to keep to myself or with my friend group this afternoon.
At the moment it was just me. I massaged sunscreen into my warm skin in liberal quantities - I planned on making a whole afternoon of it. I came prepared with reading materials and my journal, though I knew I'd give little, if any, attention to it. Beach days were transcendent days - beyond the usual pleasures I'd find at home. I stretched my body out on the blanket, situated my sunhat over my eyes and savored the warm sun on my skin. A delicate breeze, only slightly cooling, relieved the sun's constant beams and created a perfectly comfortable equilibrium.
With my eyes closed, I savored sun and breeze and listened to the waves lap against the shore. The sound of mingling voices wafted quietly over the sloped square lawn. I always savored the gentle hum of varied indistinguishable conversations with the odd exclamation or bubble of laughter. This day was no different. I was lulled into total relaxation by the soundscape under the warm August sun.
Fully warmed, the water called to me to wade in. I brought my beach ball, stripes of hot pink, electric orange, and cyan blue and rested it under my chest, hunched over it, legs dangling in the water savoring the gentle rocking of the waves. "Do not use as a flotation device" it admonished in stark, black print, but I never strayed farther from shore than I could easily swim, so it remained my faithful relaxation companion.
A few ducks swam by, careful to stay out of the reach of any human. A bald eagle soared overhead against the deep blue, cloudless sky. I turned my gaze back to the water line, looking towards the mountain rising out of the lake far off in the distance. A few clouds gathered around it, but above and around me it was all crystalline, clear blue sky.
The water had a bit of a silvery gray tinge to it, in contrast to the bright blue sky. The water's color was no doubt tempered by the earthy tones of the rocks and sediment beneath. I made my way back to the shore, stepping carefully over the rocks, my feet seeking the stepping stones set by a previous beachgoer as a hidden, barefoot-friendly pathway under the water.
The stone path wasn’t the only feature introduced by socially-minded beach visitors: an herb and flower garden ran the length of the shore where grass and rocky beach converged. Planted and tended by a handful of regulars, large plastic bottles were permanently stashed amongst the bushes along the side of the park to gather lake water to water them.
I passed through the garden and headed back to my blanket to lay in the sun again, hat shading eyes, to lose myself again in the rhythmic waves and the hum of commingling voices drifting over sun-dried grass. This was a ritual I'd repeat many times that day, and in many remaining summer days to come - a most embodied experience, completely at one with nature.