Category: beach

Much’ agua

While watching organic fruits and vegetables harvested to order today — lettuce, swiss chard, celery, carrots, arugula, grapefruit — from the greenhouse I noticed something I’d never before seen to the east: water.

Not the ocean, but the Río Solís Chico. I asked Ricardo about it. Sí, hay much’ agua. So I had to check on our tajamar (pond), and wow, yeah, lots of water.

full pond, Uruguay

From our little country place — just a few hundred meters from Pilar’s, where the every-other-week feria organica happens, I could also see the river. That surprised me. I consider myself relatively observant, and if the river was visible from our place, I’d certainly never seen it before.

Much’ agua.

Since we first lived here at the mouth of the Río Solís Chico in Parque del Plata, and ever since loving its constantly changing paths as it hits the beach, I thought it might be worth checking out the water flow at the mouth of the river.

Solís Chico, Parque del Plata, Uruguay

Indeed! Hard to do justice in one photo, but in normal times the width of the water separating these two groups of people would be about one half this. You can get an idea here. In that video, all of the foreground beach was underwater today!

Much’ agua.

Flooded beach

Flooded beach, Atlántida, Uruguay

We had a lot of rain overnight and this morning.

Flooded beach, Atlántida, Uruguay

All the more water for Benji to splash around in. Here he takes a brief confused time out, attention divided between the head of cabbage he quickly lost interest in tearing apart, the stick I had been throwing for him drifting away, and something else. We were the only ones on the beach, so who knows what the something else might have been.

 

Sunrise

sunrise on beach, Atlántida Uruguay

It’s not often I get up early, but I was awake this morning and thought, if I leave by 6:15, I can watch the sunrise on the beach. I looked at my clock (which involves picking it up and pushing the button to light it) and saw that it was exactly 6:15. Two minutes later we were out the door.

 

DTOTB

It’s been a long time since I posted Dead Things On The Beach, but today’s was quite impressive.

Dead sea turtle and dog, Atlántida, Uruguay

As was Benji’s response. Until I got close, I was convinced the turtle was going to move.

As usual, how and why of its demise remain a mystery.

 

 

 

 

The pool on the beach

Though I’ve always considered myself a mountain person, I do enjoy the constant changes of the beach. Today the small waves were washing up and over, forming and immense pool that ran the length of the beach.

Flooded beach, Atlántida, Uruguay
Though the camera I bought four years ago can take a panoramic shot, I had no idea how to do that, so sloppily put two images together manually instead.

This is looking back from the direction I came. We crossed this about as far as you can see, where it was ankle deep. As I watched the dog struggling more and more to get his stick, I knew that was changing. Crossing back, the water came up to my thighs! Fortunately warm 😉

Like surfing in chocolate

Here’s Benji, running out of the surf with our favorite stick. But wait, what’s that out in the water?

dog, surfer background, Atlántida, Uruguay

A surfer, one of six or so.

dog, surfers, Atlántida, Uruguay

What they saw in these surf conditions is quite beyond me. The longest ride I saw lasted perhaps fifteen seconds. This is not a hot surf spot (ever). However, these guys (I assume) have probably known each other since elementary school like Jesse’s friends. It was no doubt great fun for them, with lots to bullshit about later over mate or a beer.

surfer , Atlántida, Uruguay

And meanwhile, I’m throwing a stick into the surf, over and over. Which is fun. Kind of. Maybe I should try surfing. I probably wouldn’t crack a couple ribs, as I did with a skateboard in my 40s, nor separate my shoulder as I did with snowboarding in my 40s (both after we became parents of a 12 year old orphaned boy in North Carolina). But it would not work without friends.

The sun, which emerged suddenly in late afternoon, allowed another shot of the erosion of the dunes from the recent storm.

eroded dunes after storm, Atlántida, Uruguay

I regret the quality of these pics — when I did the “spooky sunset,” I shot 2 stops down, and forgot to reset the exposure. These are re-exposed through my non-Photoshop “Photoshop.”

A good stick is hard to find

When we began to walk with Syd’s dogs, Syd pointed to an area that would flood, come winter. That seemed unlikely at the time, but sure enough —.

For the last few months (it’s spring now) the dogs have joyfully frolicked in the water there, Benji settling in like the water dog. Yesterday he not only did that, he also rolled in it. Unfortunate, because the “pond” is drying up, and becoming mud. And, given cows that sometimes graze in the area, rather smelly mud at that. Cleaning a dog that smells of cow dung is not my favorite thing, so …

… today I took him to the beach instead. Our usual walk is about three kilometers (a bit under two miles). Depending on the hour, sunlight level, and wind, we walk one direction or the other, but one thing is certain: during the half kilometer on the beach, I will be throwing a stick for Benji, into the waves, the entire time.

But only if he drops the stick directly in front of me, or very close. Which he does. Sometimes he actually throws it in my path.

And good sticks are not always available. Much of the crap that washes up ends up breaking. So, when I get a good stick, I like to leave it in the dunes at the end of the walk. I took a picture a few days ago at the east end; thinking it remarkable that one in the foreground had been with us for at least four walks (good stick!).

sticks for the dog, Atlántida, Uruguay

Today we started again at the west end (afternoon; bright sun behind), and I was amused to find a collection of three sticks, obviously mine, at the west end, the buried boardwalk.

sticks for the dog, Atlántida, Uruguay

Here one has joined the collection at the east end.

For some reason, brings to mind T. S. Eliot, “I have measured out my life with coffee spoons.”

No, sticks. Silly dogs and sticks.

The jacketed dog

A couple months ago, we approached an older dog, complete with dog jacket (almost an obsession in Uruguay). Benji was eager to engage the target. I told him, no, we don’t hassle older dogs, but it turned out to be young, and very eager to play, and though loose, more or less inclined to stay within the borders of its large yard.

I say its large yard — I actually have no idea even now to what house it belongs. Its owner cares enough to worry about him being warm, but not about being loose and possibly hit by a car. Go figure.

We saw him the other day, and the two chased each other around that yard. The little guy has a tighter turning radius, so it’s not as one-sided a chase as might appear. However, when I noticed Benji grabbing the little guy by his jacket, I decided enough is enough,put Benji on the leash, and continued toward the beach.

The little guy followed. So, next thing I know, he’s followed Benji into the water (Benji loves it when I throw sticks for him, and loves to splash around in the water).

dog-jacket-1

Something in me says that a jacket designed to keep the dog warm in the air might have the opposite effect in the water. Maybe not. It’s probably polyester.

dog-jacket-2

And with all the running, it probably makes no difference. But it’s winter here; this was a t-shirt/thin hoodie/windbreaker day. Not for the first time, I had to ask myself, is this dog in the water with its jacket my problem? Is it my responsibility?

Answer: absolutely not.

A block shy of our exit from the beach, little dog turned tail and headed home.

We’ll see him again.