It was summer now, 5:30 AM on a Tuesday, and the beach was at its most picturesque. No other people were in sight as I labored up the side of a large sand dune to gain a better vantage point and estimate the wind conditions. I was fortunate that God had been so generous that day; this was obvious by the countless whitecaps. What made this location such a great place to sail was that the waves broke about a mile from the beach, which allowed for freestyle tricks to be done closed to the beach and huge tabletops farther out. .
I slid down the opposite side of the dune, my feet sinking into the soft white sand, startling a ghost crab and sending it scrambling for cover in its nearest sand burrow. Ghost crabs are bright white to camouflage themselves from predators. They are harmless, though I have known a few to steal an unguarded French fry or to sample dozing people's toes. Sand crabs always interested me, as they would dig little holes in the sand making tiny balls out of the sand. I was thankful for that though for I enjoyed walking on the soft tiny balls spread across the beach.
I stepped cautiously over a sun-cooked jellyfish. As a young boy, I learned the excruciating pain derived from even dead one's tentacle. This jellyfish happened to be bright purple with white vein-like tentacles, which differed from others I had seen in the past. I learned to judge water's jellyfish content by counting the number of evaporating carcasses in a given number of feet. I preferred windsurfing only in shorts, although jellyfish were always something to be wary of. The waters are approached by what I deem the three plagues: jellyfish one month, then blue crabs, finally ending the season with Sargasso weed. Fortunately for me, it was still early in the season and the water hazards were at a minimum.
Deep paths in the dunes had been slowly eroded away by the never-ending herds of tourists, surfers and sunbathers on their treks from their automobiles to the water.
