Dylan
Beach Lover
So I try to make it a habit to pick up trash every time I go to the beach, but last week, for Earth Day, I decided that an extended trash picking session was in order. With sunscreen applied and iPod set to jam, I made my way via bike down the road to Grayton. I had decided I would clean from the west access down to little red fish lake.
It was a gorgeous day, and it felt good to have my feet in the sand. As I began, the lack of trash caught me off guard. I thought that maybe it was my shoreline route and that on the way back the dune line would bear more fruit. It crossed my mind that maybe our visitors leave the beaches the way they found them, but the mental image of the Seaside green over spring break, in the evening after a sunny afternoon, reassured me that my services would be needed.
I scored a few chip bags and firecrackers here and there but not as many cigarette butts as I would expect. It felt good to be productive, but not as good as it would?ve to encounter a clean beach. As I got to the mouth of the lake, my workload increased. The high tide line was my treasure trove; plastic bottle caps and cigar tips were my booty. My technique of raking the sand after a score quickly filled a bag.
The abundance of trash that seemed to accumulate around this beautiful dune lake made me sad. We are blessed to be one of a few places in the world to have such an ecosystem. But then again we are blessed to have the Gulf and the forest too. I hate to see trash just about anywhere. Ok, anywhere and everywhere. It?s really quite simple to pick up your trash and it?s not that hard to pick up someone else?s.
I think of all the little fishes and critters that might ingest this crap, and I think about someone?s little kids that might ingest this crap. I think about this, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pacific_Garbage_Patch and wonder why or how it exists. Now we have this oil spill and most of everything I found was plastic, which comes from oil. One could argue that we have an oil spill on our shores, except this one isn?t caused by accident.
On a lighter note, on my way back I found a flip flop, and knowing what it?s like to travel one-flopped, I looked around for its owner. It wasn?t next to an access; it was half buried in the middle of the beach. With much trouble, I decided somehow this fancy fellow had gotten lost from its owner, and they weren?t coming back. So I decided to put him in my bag and chalked it up to a flip flopping accident.
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It was a gorgeous day, and it felt good to have my feet in the sand. As I began, the lack of trash caught me off guard. I thought that maybe it was my shoreline route and that on the way back the dune line would bear more fruit. It crossed my mind that maybe our visitors leave the beaches the way they found them, but the mental image of the Seaside green over spring break, in the evening after a sunny afternoon, reassured me that my services would be needed.
I scored a few chip bags and firecrackers here and there but not as many cigarette butts as I would expect. It felt good to be productive, but not as good as it would?ve to encounter a clean beach. As I got to the mouth of the lake, my workload increased. The high tide line was my treasure trove; plastic bottle caps and cigar tips were my booty. My technique of raking the sand after a score quickly filled a bag.
The abundance of trash that seemed to accumulate around this beautiful dune lake made me sad. We are blessed to be one of a few places in the world to have such an ecosystem. But then again we are blessed to have the Gulf and the forest too. I hate to see trash just about anywhere. Ok, anywhere and everywhere. It?s really quite simple to pick up your trash and it?s not that hard to pick up someone else?s.
I think of all the little fishes and critters that might ingest this crap, and I think about someone?s little kids that might ingest this crap. I think about this, http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_Pacific_Garbage_Patch and wonder why or how it exists. Now we have this oil spill and most of everything I found was plastic, which comes from oil. One could argue that we have an oil spill on our shores, except this one isn?t caused by accident.
On a lighter note, on my way back I found a flip flop, and knowing what it?s like to travel one-flopped, I looked around for its owner. It wasn?t next to an access; it was half buried in the middle of the beach. With much trouble, I decided somehow this fancy fellow had gotten lost from its owner, and they weren?t coming back. So I decided to put him in my bag and chalked it up to a flip flopping accident.
Surfrider Foundation - Home Page
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