The first time we went to Chincoteague was on a long family trip. We had been making our way up the East coast. I, with all the righteous purity that only an adolescent can have, felt very strongly that if we were going to be next to a coast, we needed to go to the beach. How could we drive for days along the ocean but never get wet? We had seen lighthouses. We had seen the mansions of Charleston. We had visited a battleship. We had experienced the disconcerting Bridge Tunnel across the mouth of the Chesapeake Bay. This structure alternates between being a bridge and being a tunnel, so, right there in the middle of the bay, the road plunges straight down into the water. But that was not quite the same as actually experiencing actual water.
My mother, who did all the driving, all the organizing and almost all the deciding, had finally given in and declared we would go to the beach in Chincoteague. The beach was on the next island out, on a National Wildlife Refuge called Assateague. Now this was more like it! My mother installed herself with some knitting or sewing up on a dune, because she did not like the looks of the waves. I was beside myself with excitement. Waves! Lake Michigan had never offered up anything quite so awesome. My father, James and I went down the dune to get in the water and I got another happy surprise when I touched the water. It was warm! Lake Michigan never gets warm, even over on the warm side in Michigan. And the ocean just north of Boston where my paternal grandmother lived was really cold. I happily rushed in only to get yet another surprise as those inviting waves wasted no time grinding my face into the sand!
Luckily my father had grown up by the ocean in New England and, though he was almost entirely un-athletic, he knew that you needed to dive straight into the wave so you could emerge on the other side. He demonstrated. It seemed like a miracle to me that his method worked but there he stood, with a triumphant smile. Teenagers are, I think, more surprised than others when they discover unexpected depths in their parents. Of course, the backwash promptly knocked him off his feet, which didn’t diminish his good cheer, but did restore him to being his ordinary self to me. He also told us that the sea was calmer beyond the breakers. After he had done his “three strokes,” he went to sit with my mother, leaving James and I to play for hours in the surf. I spent a long time out beyond the breakers imagining that I was feeling the entire force of the Atlantic Ocean.
When I eventually emerged from the water, I could not see my parents. Nothing looked familiar. In fact, there wasn’t even a dune anymore though none of the people on the beach seemed concerned. After a few moments of utter panic, I did figure out that the water had carried me way down the shore and that I had to hike back up the beach.
Afterwards, we went to a seafood shack with a screened porch and I asked for a soft-shell crab. More surprises, since they gave me a hamburger bun with legs sticking out on all sides like a spider. Then, inside was some sort of bright green goo. I gamely ate it up after being reassured by my father that this was normal. But I have never since then been tempted to request a soft-shell crab.
After Liam was born while I was living in Baltimore, my mother suggested one year that we all meet in Chincoteague, which led to many summer meetings in Chincoteague, but those stories will have to enter the realm of To Be Continued.
Loved this one- such happy surprises! I love the beach too and after I learned how to get through the waves I was always happy to get in the water...until I saw a documentary on shore life and saw a shot of people swimming with sharks not too far away! Now I have to remind myself nothing happened all those years I swam in the ocean BEFORE I saw that picture!
wow! and there i thought you were carried off by the waves to some strange island and you had to just live off rhum until they find you. oh, no, that's pirates of the caribbean. happy ending, or else you won't be here, would you? are those sandpipers?
I found so many little details inherent that I want to know more about. I shall have to google images of the bridge tunnel and soft shelled crabs but I have to wonder if you saw ponies. My only idea of this place comes from Misty by marguerite Henry
Love your stories, way behind with letting you know as much. Have also tried a couple myself and know it is an effort - more so for a busy person like you.
I've just now come to reading this story! Fantastic! Now I know how it is you come to Chincoteague! By the way, there's a fabulous little restaurant here in Salisbury called Cactus Tavern which has, believe it or not, THE BEST soft shelled crabs. I had never had one until I had theirs, and I immediately fell in love. No green goo, I promise! It's owned by a man from a foreign land that begins with an L, I think. (Lithuania?) Anyway, it's a mix of seafood and Mexican, and it's quite atmospheric. They usually have quiet, live music on Friday nights. While you're eating, the owner comes around with wine in a skin and squirts it in your mouth. And while you're waiting for your check, you're served a small glass of port. It might be worth checking out!
