It’s not all that often that my personal blog aligns so perfectly with the SEANET blog, but this is one of those times. So here you go:
Originally posted on thestagecoachroad:
On Saturday we drove to Salisbury Beach State Reservation. We dropped off Christophe so he could commence his 17 mile run home, and the remaining three of us went out to walk the beach. We go outside a lot, in any weather, but our ventures to Salisbury are generally for the purpose of documenting dead birds for the SEANET program. This means a 1.5 mile round trip, and, when in the company of two young boys, about an hour and a half.
I was poking about in the piles of wrack and discarded plastic while the boys dug holes and inspected crab carapaces. Suddenly, I heard Simon howling. I turned around to see him nearly up to his knees in the water. His face was contorted with shock and pain and he appeared paralyzed by the full force of the north Atlantic in winter. I hauled him up onto the sand and stared into his face asking, “Why? Simon, WHY did you do that?” I felt for the boy, of course, but my bewilderment was extreme. What had possessed him to blithely stride into 35 degree water? “Simon, you could die out here doing that!” I said. This was patently ridiculous, since the car was within sight, but I do try to instill general wilderness survival principles whenever I can. Malcolm offered his input: “It’s not the cold, Simon. It’s being wet.”