May 29, 1981 - Fire Island Tide: Back to the Beach Agains
Page 17
Back to the Beach Again
BY PA UL STO UTENBURGH m
There is an excitement that comes
whenever you step out on a new venture,
especially when it's by water. We had not
been to the ocean beach for a long time
and were looking forward to meeting old
friends and renewing our sense and
feelings about the magnificent stretch of
beach called Fire Island. Most would have
wanted for a warmer and more pleasant
day but our yen to get out and walk the
beach couldn't wait.
May 2nd found us sitting on the upper
deck of the ferry waiting to go. Alongside
an occasional small bay boat would go by --
one was loaded with gill nets with its
accompanied newly- painted buoys. A few
pleasure boats were tied up to their slips
but there were many gaps that awaited the
still stranded craft that had not yet been
awakened from their winter storage.
Familiar sights glided by as we
passed out into the wide stretches
of the bay before us.
The roar and tremble of the engines
below now told us we'd soon be on our
way. Their noise blanked out all other
sounds. Soon a shift in tempo and we were
moving. Familiar sights glided by as we
passed out into the wide stretches of the
bay before us.
Once outside we found ourselves
engulfed in the grandeur of open
space ... great vistas that melted away into
the far - distant rim of the shore ahead.
Clusters of clam boats could be seen
here and there with an occasional
individual raking his chance for fame
alone. Perhaps he'd strike it rich, and he
wanted to keep the harvest to himself.
Clams of the right size bring upwards of
$70 to $80 per bushel.
Far to the west the half -domes of the two
bridges that lead the car bound to Fire
Island lay half -sunk on the horizon.
Further to the south was the winking
strobe light of the Fire Island light, the
sailors' savior.
As we neared the slip on the Fire Island
side familiar buildings and boardwalks
came into view. Gone was the hustle and
bustle of summer activity. Now only a faint
awakening could be seen - a few people
here and there. Perhaps an open window
in one of the homes was the only sign that
winter was over and a new life was slowly
awakening. It was strange to see this area
that teemed so with life in summer now
only faintly stirring.
The small group of visitors from the
ferry found their way off the boat and onto
the boardwalk with their arms loaded. A
purple wagon clippity- clopped down the
boardwalk ahead of us. Its leader headed
Paul Stoutenburgh, a former naturalist with the
Fire Island National Seashore, writes FOCUS
ON NATURE for East End weekly newspapers.
Mr. Stoutenburgh will be presenting his views
on Fire Island nature throughout the season.
on his way to his dream house. In no time
we were heading west on the boardwalk --
then a sharp left and we were headed
straight for the beach.
In the distance we could hear the rolling
rumble of the surf through the
underbrush. Here and there were white
clusters of shad blossoming. Its crooked
gray limbs and trunk reminded me of the
purity of a Japanese print. Down below,
under the protection of the low growth, a
new world was awakening. Spring had
triggered the bright green leaves of the
Canada mayflower. Following its bloom,
we'll see the spectacle of the beach plum.
Its white mat of flowers sometimes
smothers a dune.
The surf's cadence now became more
(Down below, under the protection
of the low growth, a new world w
awakening. Spring had triggered
the bright green leaves of the
Canada mayflower.
dominant and the crashing of the surf took
over. How I remember sleeping on dreamy
summer nights with that mystical sound in
my ears.
Suddenly, almost like coming out on the
stage of some great theater, we emerged
on the beach and there was an ocean that
seemed to go on forever. Vast beaches to
the left and right ran as far as your eye
could see. The only object in sight was a
distant dragger low on the horizon and a
lonely gull on patrol.How good it felt to
have the sand of centuries under our feet
again.
We hugged the dune where the sand
was soft and deep. Its black magnetite
and reddish garnet sands lay in windrows
along its base. It was along this part of the
beach that the pioneer plants of Fire Island
would be found ... the lilants that through
the ages have adapted themselves to the
harsh environment the sea continually
thrusts upon them. Small seedlings of sea
rocket reminded me of my own sprouting
seeds back in my greenhouse at home.
Later in the summer their green leaves
would be plucked for seasoning in a salad
by those lucky enough to know them.
Ammophila or dune grass had long
awakened its roots and sent out
underground rhizomes probing the warm
sand. From these foundations new and
evenly spaced green shoots were coming
up through the sand in straight precise
rows. It's these very grasses that Fire
Island owes its life to. Without them and
their rugged ability to grow under the
harsh conditions of the beach and their
natural ability to capture the ever - moving
sand" that creates the dunes, the shifting
sands of Fire Island would be something
here today and gone tomorrow.
Not as common as the beach grass, but
another seaside landholder is the wild
beach pea that by now has outgrown the
cultivated peas of gardens back home.
Soon the familiar shaped pea flower -
purplish in color - will give way to
miniature peapods. Although small in size,
they are sweet in taste to those who get
them before the birds and the bugs.
Another seaside plant that was breaking
through the sands from its winter sleep
was dusty miller. This gray -green plant
will grow and spread into large mats
featuring inconspicuous yellow - stalked
flowers later in the summer. But now it
was merely a small plant emerging from
old root stock buried in the sand through
the winter.
Our day dissolved into dusk and we
began to think about the friends we'd soon
be seeing. The warmth of good people, the
laughter and joy of old acquaintances. But
now the beach captured our souls. It was
good to be back. The sea still rolled in its
endless invasion; the beach had changed a
bit as it does each winter; the plants were
renewing themselves; the gulls still
patrolled the beach and our beachcombing
eyes never stopped searching for its
treasures... the wonders of Fire Island. It
was good to be back.
X
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