March 27, 1993
There was so much “talking” and “renewing” going on with this group
(some of us hadn’t seen each other since Summer Camp!) that I wondered if anyone noticed how
spectacular these dunes really are.
We meandered up, down and around to an out-of-the-wind site for lunch.
Sitting at the base of a tree island overlooking a small reflection pool, we remarked the weather
was perfect: slightly overcast sky, slightly breezy, and slightly warm.
Although warned of the possibility of wading through the deflation plain to get to the surf,
I think some of our group were still surprised when the small puddles turned to major runoff
and was actually deeper than boot-high.
Before we could vote on whether to turn back to the dunes or take those hiking boots off,
hardier souls were splashing through the brownish, primordial muck — so we were committed.
It was cold in places, but made the sand on the beach feel that much warmer.
As always, an hour watching waves, looking for sand dollars, and just breathing all that fresh air,
made the wade back to the dunes worthwhile.
Our fearless barefooted group consisted of Marc Hansen, Sylvia Harvey, Bob Hill, Mary Holbert,
Diane Jeffcott, Gary Marx, Chuck Mitchell, Virginia Prouty, Christy White
and Clare Tucker (leader).