Beach Walking Culture

 

One of the things I had to get used to when we first moved here was the generally accepted rules of the beach culture, particularly given that our beach happens to be located in the South. The percentage of transplants from the Northeast and the Midwest is high here on the island, but in the end, we are largely a product of our latitude.

There were lots of little things, of course, but perhaps the biggest adjustment was the walking to talking ratio one can expect on an average beach walk. Let’s just say there’s likely to be more talking than walking done here. In some parts of the country, it’s probably possible to spend an entire vacation week at the beach without ever establishing eye contact once. I dare you to try that here. And if you are with children, good luck managing two minutes.

It took me a while to adjust to this. It wasn’t that I didn’t like it; I did. It’s just that initially, I never allotted the necessary time needed to complete a walk that also included even moderate cardiovascular benefits. I mean, I was busy giving birth on a two-year cycle, and I needed to exercise.

It also wasn’t that I wasn’t accustomed to people being friendly before; Chicago is a relatively friendly town, particularly for a big city. I just wasn’t accustomed to a question about directions evolving into a half hour visit culminating in an exchange of family pictures, recipes and hugs.

Once I learned time management, my initial confusion turned to enjoyment. In fact, I think I have become somewhat of a “talker” myself. I really like meeting people from a variety of backgrounds and hearing about experiences that are often quite different from my own. I have been known to tailor my route from time to time when I simply must do something about the 37 pieces of chocolate recently anonymously deposited in my stomach, and that something does not involve talking about it. Usually, however, who I run into on my walks and what we talk about becomes the part of the walk I anticipate most.

I’ve learned, for instance, where several sea turtles built their nests into the dunes near my house. I’ve heard fishing stories that should be documented in some government-sponsored preservation of oral history project. Some of my best friends here are people I’ve met while walking the beach, people who love my children almost like family.

Maddeningly, every time my mother comes to visit, she manages to run into the one beach walker in the beach universe who actually has negative stories about life on the beach.      

First, there was the story about a grandchild who was standing on shore almost being swept out to sea by an irregular wave. Hmmm…technically possible, but the description of said event smacked of hyperbole. Then, there were the hurricanes that continually ride our coast, turning glorious two-stories into humble ranches with the regularity of a laxative. Again, it certainly and unfortunately has happened, but to imply that that is a continual state of being here, like snow in winter is for much of the northern part of the country is, well, gross hyperbole.

More recently, she gave an account of a day the week before where, as she told it, the flies were so bad no one could stand to be outside. My mom came back from her walk thinking we had been visited by something akin to one of the plagues in Exodus. The truth? Yes, every once in a great while we get a day where the flies apparently decide they like the beach too, but on the day in question, the large numbers of people out enjoying the beach seem to suggest the lady’s proclivity for exaggeration.

Fortunately, most beach walkers are mainly just happy to be there. So the discourse is, if nothing else, usually relaxed and pleasant. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked down to the beach to find my husband deep in conversation with a complete stranger about anything from fish bait to politics. In the interest of full disclosure, I have to admit that, given my husband’s garrulous nature, that happened frequently in Chicago too (minus the beach setting), but here he’s much less likely to be carrying the lion’s share of the conversation. People here also tend to be really good at acknowledging and talking to kids, so our children often get wrapped up in conversations themselves, comparing boogie boards, explaining sandcastle architecture and petting dogs. This is, to quote a friend, “a happy, happy place.”

You should try it, if you head down to a Carolina beach this summer. Generally speaking, the less-populous the beach, the better. Better yet, come in the off-season. You’re more likely to meet the locals, like us, with our mild eccentricities and our loquacious ways.