The fishing trip

The hurricane that rushed through Florida had destroyed many of the homes and businesses on the coast of North Florida. Great open beaches with white sand dunes, sea oats and occasional palm tree was all that was left of my parents favorite beach.

A large concrete slab that had once been a building was cracked and bulking. From the back an old pipe sprouted sulfer water from what must have once been the businesses well. Creative people had taken bolders, brick and other items and created a natural freshwater pool with little steps that allowed one to wade into the pool. The "pool" lay about 50 feet from the hot sandy beach in Ponte Vedra Florida.

There, isolated from the rest of the world, my parents took their little family for the bi monthly summer fishing trip. Only a few other people knew of the spot, so my brother and I had the beach to ourselves. We had only to watch out for the occasional fishining line.

This particular day dad had stopped by Pic N Save (a local drug store)and purchased two styrofoam surf boards. Jack's was a large white board and mine was a smaller brown board. While my parents fished and Donna remained safe next to my mom in about 6 inches of water, my brother and I went out to catch the waves. The board was not strong enough for us to try to stand on like the guys we saw on TV, but it was perfect for body surfing.
I so remember the routine....hold the board to an angle, wade out as far as you could, put the board in front of you, paddle out a little more, then turn your back, lie on the board and wait. In only a moment a wave large enough to carry you to shore would appear. High into the air, the light board lifted..and then zoom, you were flying! Moments later, standing in knee deep water, you picked the board up and did it all over again. Now and then....if you were not careful, you caught a rough one, and had to hold onto your bathing suit bottoms to keep them on....oh what fun.
Donna would never venture into the water. I thought she was chicken. My brother called her chicken of the sea...after the tuna brand. As I look back on it now, it was probably because she was very small. Three years younger than I was, she was not yet ready to go surfing. Playing in the shallows, building sand castles and staying close to mom was about as adventursome as she would get at that age.

I loved the beach. I loved the surf and the sand. I loved the large faded blanket my mom threw on the sand and the dining tarp my father rigged to keep the sun off of us while we were eating. I loved the Vienna Sausages mom would pry out of the can and the taste of saltine crackers with potted meat. I even liked the sardines we brought for dad...just as long as they were buried between two crackers.

After lunch we would build sand castles with my sister or play on the sand dunes with my brother. He was a pirate and I was a princess. Sometimes he would rescue me from the evil pirates..and sometimes he would capture me and hold me prisoner underneat the hanging seaoats and other plants that created a small cave at the base of the sanddunes. There, watching the tide roll in I would braid sea oats into my hair, collect sand dollars and pretend that I really was a princess...or a mermaid.

I loved the ice cold grape Shasta drinks mom bought from Pic N Save. They were 10 for a dollar in those days, so mom let us pick our favorite. Mine was grape and creme soda. I always had the grape for lunch and saved the creme soda for the trip home.

I love watching the fish swim in the large cooler of salt water, building sand castles using the empty Vienna Sausage cans and falling asleep in the back seat of the car on top of my brother as we drove home.

But my favorite part was the outdoor bath in the fresh water pool. Mom always brought soap and shampoo and we bathed in the pool, put on fresh clothes and were able to ride home comfortable.

As I look back on those days I am sure it was not too long before someone capped off the end of the well and rebuilt the business into a hotel or home. The beaches are private and the public ones are crowded with people on most days in the summer....
but I can not step out onto a beach, squish my feet into the shallow water and sand, smell the salt air or taste a Vienna Sausage without thinking about a less crowded, simpler time when everything was good, life was easy and I was Princess of the sand dunes with sea oats woven into my hair.