The morning started off chilly and I spent a long time getting myself out of bed. The wind was blowing and the idea of getting out on the water was completely unappealing. I folded up a chair and carried it over and joined a line of oldies seated along the dune fencing on the beach. I sat for awhile then took a short walk down towards Matunuck. I asked the young lady at the lifeguard stand about the potential small wave that occasionally tried to roll in next to the jetty. She said this is a swimming only beach and “launching” from the shore is prohibited. Rules like these are always interesting – an empty beach on a breezy cold day, 58 degree water and we’re going to make sure we keep it clear in case any swimmers show up. It’s the same at home. They use flags to corral the surfers into a seething, little huddle while miles of empty waves are off limits.
For my afternoon exercise, I unhitched my bike and pedaled down the narrow country roads over to Green Hill Beach. A couple of senior ladies were holding down the lone bench watching as I wandered around the small cove taking pictures. I sat for a few minutes keeping my eye on a small wave that consistently broke over to the west of the beach access. An easy pedal back to the central village brought me to a cluster of shops.
Just around the corner on Matunuck School Road there is a fruit and vegetable stand that offers fresh local produce. I steered the bike carefully over the gravel entrance to see what I might need. I chose a few bunches of freshly picked spinach and a small blueberry strudel that kept calling to me from the shelf next to the apples. The sky was turning dark and some ominous looking clouds were billowing in overhead. I followed the dirt road back out to the campground and put anything left outside away and kicked back inside as the rain arrived.
An easy night enjoying the quiet as most of campers were locals and the majority of them beat feet as soon as a few raindrops began to fall. I was able to get the basketball game over the air and watched some of that and called it an early night listening to the rain beat on the fiberglass roof as the storm intensified overnight.
“A hard rain’s a comin'”