Up in Alaska, we live on a bluff above the bay. We fish along the beach below. It’s rocky near where we live. Alden and Kato like nothing more than throwing stones into the water. Endlessly.
Much of the time, we fish, but when we aren’t fishing, we often end a day with a walk on the beach.
The beach is always wet from the changing tides. Rubber boots are helpful.
As long as they stay on your feet.
The water is shallow near our compound. When the tide is low, the mud flats extend for hundreds of yards.
It’s almost always cold up there, even in the summer. One has to wear a hat to keep warm.
One day, Alden decided it would be great fun to run down a sand embankment. She took a tumble and got a mouthful.
The beach is strewn with scrap metal—rusted out trucks, fish racks, anchors, even old boats. The water is ever encroaching on the bluffs and the old junk makes a serviceable bulkhead. And also provides a scenic backdrop for a juice break.
Our part of Alaska has no dramatic postcard beauty. But our beach is majestic, ever changing. In a place with no real roads, it is our byway. It is also where we find treasure.
The beach is strewn with agates, a semiprecious stone the color of amber. Robbi finds them every time we take a walk. I’ve found two in seven seasons. The stone we used to make her wedding ring was an agate she found along the beach one day long ago.
I’m glad that my kids know this place, that it’s becoming a part of their lives.
I heard from Robbi via email today that the sun was out (a rare thing) and that she and the kids were out on the beach throwing stones together.
I’m already looking forward to heading back up next summer. Though I’ll admit that the present heat makes the thought of that distant windblown stretch all the more enticing.
