Beachcomber, Dog Walker, Steward

I am walking on the beach. Feeling grateful and responsible for my share of its stewardship as the winter winds slap my face with a brisk reminder of our interconnectedness. I am you as you are me and we are all together. I take a deep breath and exhale the sadness that comes from a thousand tons of pollution that I have allowed to end here, washed up like the carcass of a dead humpback whale on this pristine natural stretch of magical beauty. 

Sure, it is not all my fault. But it could be my flag to carry. Stop doing this people. Stop dumping waste and toxins in the water. Stop drilling for oil for the sole reason of commerce. And please curtail tossing your expendable plastic into the ocean. These practices, habits, non-thinking destructive actions are literally killing marine life and turning our once pure, life sustaining waters to poison, unsuitable to sustain life in any form. Maybe I should just walk and turn my head to the reality of this, but I cannot escape. It would be so easy to remain simply a beachcomber and dog walker.

We had a monster of a storm last week. It knocked down hundred foot trees onto houses, across roads and on top of power lines. We spent three days in the dark. All the time the accompanying winds crashed the shoreline like a stream of frigid water from a pressure washer. 

Yesterday I took the dogs for a walk at sunset. I hadn’t intended for it to be a damage assessment, but it definitely turned out that way. There was debris everywhere, flotsam and even a yard or two of jetsam. Along with the expected driftwood, was enough dimensional and pressure treated lumber to build a small house. Along with a criminal amount of plastic. Flip flops, fishing floats, gallon milk jugs, rope, plastic bags, clothes, bottles and even a small boat with a rubber hull. 

The dogs are having a blast as they investigate the mess for edibles. The sun is starting to set and I announce we have reached the turn around. Time to head back. For once they obey without argument, come about and head back down the rocky shoreline.

I am still thinking about the damage we are doing to our waters. There is an empty bag of ice floating near the shore so I grab a five-foot washed up cedar limb and fish it out. I stick it in my bag along with the other debris I have gathered. It is full. We have been on the beach for twenty minutes and I have already filled a garbage bag with litter, junk and a few toxic looking unidentified objects. 

I juxtapose this to the eCOW adventure. The eCOW is code for our bike trip down the Pacific Coast come springtime. States covered will be California, Oregon and Washington. The e is for Epic. Why not incorporate some type of beach clean up at every stop along the way? If we manage to attract ten intrepid riders on the trip and collect one bag each per night….that would be a heck of a lot of trash. 

I am walking in the beach, suddenly more steward than beachcomber or dog walker.