The pandemic took many things away from. I think the biggest loss was intermingling with tourists during the spring and early summer. A few days ago, during a rather foggy morning I took a walk on Long Sands Beach and overheard a couple questioning each other about what they could possibly do on a foggy, damp day at the beach. They seemed saddened in the thought their vacation would be interrupted by what they considered to be bad weather.

I interrupted their conversation by stating they were very lucky to have vacationed when a coastal fog was in. I think they were from some Midwest state because they had a funny accent. The couple took me to task by asking what they could do. Since I was in the mood to sound like an old “Downeaster” I told them a favorite tale of the coast.

Get here real early in the morning right before the sun breaks away from the horizon. Find where the water meets the shore and follow its sound and smell. It might be a bit damp but don’t be afraid to get a little wet. Remember you are on the coast of Maine, and you are supposed to get a little wet.

Now walk the beach and listen to the music of the coast. The ocean sounds totally different in the early morning especially in the fog. The dense atmosphere makes everything echo. The water hitting the sands makes the sound of heavy blankets being curled up by thankful people in the dead of winter. This sound has a tendency to make one shiver a bit, but it is a good kind of shiver.

Your footsteps sound different on the sands of a foggy morning. They echo like the sound of forest leaves fighting for space during a summer storm.

When you hit the parts of the beach that have rocks you will hear the sound of conversations between what has always been and hopefully always will be. The larger rocks scream their song in total unison with the pounding waves. However the sound I enjoy most is the little pebbles laughing as the ocean tickles them over and over again. It is their time on the beach. We are only allowed to listen.

The gulls on a foggy beach are seen quietly waiting their time when the sun will burn-off the fog and people will return to feed and play with them again. They are seen in small and large groups seemingly praying to the Ocean that gave them life.

By this time, I was either scaring the hell out of these people or was interesting them with my tale. However, it was soon my time to go on my way. I said farewell to my two new friends and started to walk down the sands.

As I was leaving I heard the man call to me and ask if they would see me on the beach tomorrow morning. I turned around, smiled, and told him they probably would.

— Special to the Telegram

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