My older daughter is leaving us for the life of a college student soon, and we've been trying to make her last days at home special and memorable. Unfortunately, circumstances have been plotting against that. For example, she had this weekend off, and we were going to go camping, but then two people quit at once at my job, and they asked me to work Sundays for the foreseeable future. It seemed like camping was out of the question if I had to be in Houston by the early afternoon.
My wife is not one to take a defeat like that easily, however. She was determined to find a way, so she came up with a sort of abbreviated campout that we could go on. We would go camping at a nearby local beach, and then I could leave early in the morning and have plenty of time to make my way back home and get a shower before I had to head to work.
Seemed like a good plan. To begin with, it was pretty idyllic.
We went to Crystal Beach, which is probably our favorite local beach. It's over on the Bolivar Peninsula to the southeast of Houston. You can camp anywhere on the beach for free, but you have to have a parking sticker on your car...oh, and in case you didn't know, you can drive your car right down onto the beach, which is really handy for loading and unloading the car.
It took us a while to find a spot that I felt safe driving the car to though. A lot of the sand was deep and loose, and I was driving a Ford Fiesta, not a dune buggy or even a 4x4 truck like most other folks on the beach had. One of those truck owners, however, pledged to pull my car out if I got stuck, so I felt a little better about venturing onto the beach.
We found a spot, and set up our stuff. My wife bought a new shade canopy for us to use during swimming this year, and that made sitting on the beach so much nicer. That and she also got me a nice big camp chair that actually fits someone my size as a Father's Day present.Put the two of those together, and combine it with the ocean breeze, and I didn't even feel a need to go in the water.
Everyone else did though. They got in right away, and splashed around in the waves for a while. I sat on the shore watching them until they told me to come join them in the water.
I wasn't too keen, because there were no showers anywhere to rinse off in after we were done. However, I couldn't go camping and spend something like 30 hours on the beach without ever actually going in the water. That wasn't going to happen. It was merely a matter of time before I got in. It might as well be now. I joined them, and we all splashed around in the waves.
After playing in the water for a while, my wife and daughters moved up to take my place under the shade tent on my big comfortable new camp chair. My son and I remained in the waves, playing together for a while longer. Eventually, the girls all decided it was time get our campsite picked out and set up. So we drove about a hundred yards up the beach on the hard compacted sand (staying as far away from the loose deep sand as possible) and started setting everything up.
Once we had that taken care of, we dug a hole using a little gardening shovel my wife had thrown in with the sand toys and started the process of getting a fire going. This was easier said than done. I've mentioned more than once that stiff pleasant breeze that was keeping the high heat from getting oppressive. Well, even with a hole to hide our fire in, it was still making it nearly impossible to keep any flames.
On top of that, I think our firewood wasn't very good. I don't think it had been dried as long as it needed to be, so even though flames licked over the logs for long periods of time, they didn't catch. My wife was ready to go with our dinner, but it needed coals to warm up on, and we couldn't even get flames much less coals. We tried all sorts of options, from burning paper towels, cardboard, and even firestarter things, none of it seemed to work.
It was seeming like we would never get a fire of any sort. While we at least had paper burning in the pit, they decided to quickly try to roast some marshmallows for the s'mores we meant to have for dessert. We had them for appetizers instead.
We gave up altogether on the coals, and set the food on top of the firestarters, because at least they were burning (they're guaranteed to burn up to 18 minutes) even if it wasn't the steady even heat you get from the coals. While my wife did this, I took a magazine that we'd grabbed from our junk mail pile, and ripped each page out and crumpled it, and stuffed them in the gaps between the logs, not so much because I thought it would get them going, as to get rid of the worthless garbage we had laying around and possibly provide a few seconds of heat for our food to warm up on. Weirdly, this unintentional thing was what finally got the logs burning.
It was a little late, however. Nobody wanted to wait for coals to form, so we let the food warm over the flames until we'd had enough, then dug into the lukewarm chow. After we all ate, we sat out in the cool evening, enjoying the moonlight, the waves, and the breeze. My son and I walked down the beach to throw away our trash at the garbage can, when he stopped cold.
"A crab!" he said, and bent down to grab it.
It's the thing directly in the center of that picture. It's kind of hard to distinguish from the sand. It didn't do much. I asked my son if the crab was dead, and he insisted it wasn't, despite the fact that we couldn't get it to move at all. Of course it would make no sense if it were dead, because the only reason he saw it was because he noticed its movement. It was an expert at playing dead, however, that's for sure.
We let the crab go, and my wife took the boy to the tent to put him to sleep. My older daughter complained of mosquito bites, and went to bed herself, but the younger one stayed up with me to sit on the beach in the moonlight.
We sat there for a few minutes as the waves lapped on the shore, and the wind blew softly but strongly over us, and she said, "Now I understand why people like the beach at night. It's really peaceful."
Sadly, that didn't last very long. For one thing, there was some kind of insect out there that seemed to have no problem navigating in the stiff breeze, and, like some kind of zombie or Xenomorph queen, it really loved the taste of human flesh. This thing starting biting us, especially me, and never stopped, no matter how much we tried to swat at it.
We might have been able to live with that, but it wasn't the only annoyance. The next thing was one of those big 4x4's driving right up next to us, then stranding himself in the deep loose sand of the beach. His headlights shone right in our faces as he spun his wheels, and dug himself in deeper and deeper. Then a second 4x4 came along to help him out. Now we had two sets of headlights in our faces.
They succeeded in pulling him from the pit he'd dug for himself, but they didn't pull him up to where the hard compacted sand was. They unhooked the tow strap from his bumper, and the friend looked as though he was going to leave, but then the original truck began spinning his wheels again, and discovered that he was still stuck, even if it wasn't in the exact spot he was stuck in before.
The other truck had to come and pull him out again. The second time, they were wise enough to pull him all the way out before removing the tow strap. Then, at last, both trucks exited the beach. This process took more than a half hour to play out, all the while their headlights were right in our faces. I wonder if my daughter wanted to retract her statement about the relaxation of the beach in the moonlight.
At least they were gone, and we had the beach to ourselves again, but right at that moment, the insect (or more likely insects) chose to take his (their) assault to the next level. The bites hurt, and itched, and at last I'd had enough of sitting out in the breeze on the moonlit night while listening to the peaceful susurrations of the ocean meeting the shore. I made a run for my tent, and my daughter went to hers.
Sadly, this is where the real struggle began. For one, without showers anywhere on the beach, there was no way to get the sand off of me before I got into bed. I tried to use my socks to clean it off my legs as much as I could. I did a woefully poor job of that in the dark of our tent (revealed to me the next morning when it was light again). When I laid down in bed, I found that it was already pretty well covered in sand before I even got there. It felt like I'd just lowered myself onto a bed of 40 grit sandpaper.
On top of that, the wind was only able to penetrate the upper portion of our tent through the windows. Down below where the beds were there was no breeze whatsoever. That pleasant beach breeze was gone, and while the temperature was a lot cooler than it had been at the height of the day, it was still a summer night in July in Texas. That's generally enough to melt the armor of an armadillo, so it was really unpleasant for us humans.
I lay there for more than an hour sweating, scraping, scratching, and even being bit by a mosquito (or possibly worse biting insect) from time to time. I finally fell asleep, only to have my wife wake me back up looking for her headphones in the middle of the night. It took more hours to get back to sleep after that. Then I woke up for a third time and took more hours to get back to sleep. It was more miserable than sitting out on the beach had been, and it went on and on all night long.
When morning came, I was dead tired, but glad to get out of bed all the same. I wasn't the only one, it seems, because as soon as I emerged from my tent, I noticed that my daughters had already woke up and even taken their tent down and bagged it up. They seemed as eager to get out of here and go take a shower at home as I was.
So, that's what we did. We packed it all up as quickly as we could, and hit the road. Not a one of us wanted to spend any time in the waves this morning. We were just done. I was kind of hoping to get home with enough time to possibly take a nap before I had to head out to work (which didn't happen. Napping is not something that I can do on cue. It just sort of happens on its own for me, or it doesn't happen at all).
I think, in the end, I learned an important lesson about camping on the beach. It's probably not going to live up to what you imagine in your mind. The best way to do the beach is probably one of two ways--in a hotel, or just as a day trip where you return to your own bed at night--especially if there are no showers available on the beach, that sand just doesn't come off. Anakin Skywalker really knew what he was talking about. The day trip can even be one that goes well into the evening, where you make a fire, and hang out on the beach in the moonlight together. Just drive home after that, so you can take a shower before climbing into your own soft bed.
But definitely still go to the beach. Make those memories with your kids, or your friends, or siblings, or distant relatives. That is 100% worth it. I'm still very glad that we all spent the day...and even the night on the beach together. Time with those you love is always time well spent.
Anyway, that's my small slice of advice that I have for you about beach camping. Check back later for more sage words to live by in future posts. See you next time.