cycling means freedom
we don’t allow anything
to interfere with that

It’s a joy from the start as cycling is so delightfully normal here: no one’s in Lycra, or wearing a helmet. “For us, cycling means freedom,” says our guide, Remco. “We don’t allow anything to interfere with that, like special clothing or helmet laws.” Old women are riding around in frocks; we see men in blazers and even one in a DJ and bow tie.

From the article, Really going Dutch: why I chose The Hague and Delft over Amsterdam by Liz Boulter in the Guardian.

I work on a resort island that is famous for biking.

Unlike that island up north in the straits of Mackinac, one of the perks of biking on this island is the hard packed sand at low tide that lets you ride along the water.

Be aware that most of the bike rental locations will charge you a cleaning fee if you bring back a bike covered with sand so make sure you give ur bike a good hosing off.

But for clothes …

Sure I see ‘bikers’ in their … ‘uniform’ but for the most part, the folks down here are biking in swimsuits and flip flops and it all seems so delightfully normal.

There don’t seem to be any helmet rules and the only rule is the rule of common sense.

Which I admit is non to common among these local bike riders but we all seem to survive.

I do remember watching a young lady walking from the beach to her bike that had been sitting in the blazing sun all afternoon.

The young lady was wearing the briefest of briefest bikini swimsuits and she leaped onto the bike and in the same motion leaped right off as her bottom came into contact with the sun heated bike seat.

It was like it had been choregraphed.

Cycling means to do what you want even if that means burning your butt I guess.

by chance or nature’s
changing course untrimmed – but thy
summer shall not fade

 Sonnet 18 for the 18th Day of October, 2024.

Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed.

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.

 So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

This is the beach access at marker 56A on Hilton Head Island on Tuesday, October 15, 2024.

A summer day any where else maybe but with a sea breeze at 20 miles an hour out of the north, the beach sparkled and shined and made you feel happy for a warm coat.

The sand is soft but with careful steps you can make to the tide line and the hard sand and keep your shoes on.

But with the wind whipping about the beach, blowing the sand, its your socks that get filled with sand.

Cold but with that sun shining on the water …

But thy eternal summer shall not fade
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall Death brag thou wand’rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st.

 So long as men can breathe or eyes can see,
 So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

no, it will be great
sand in hair, shoes, sandwiches
and then in our mouths …

No, it will be great. We’ll get sand in our hair. We’ll get sand in our shoes. We’ll get sand in our sandwiches and then in our mouths. We’ll get sunburned and windburned. And when we get tired of sitting, we can have a paddle in water so cold it actually hurts. At the end of the day we’ll set off at the same time as 37,000 other people and get in such a traffic jam that we won’t get home till midnight. I can make trenchant observations about your driving skills, and the children can pass the time sticking each other with sharp objects. It will be such fun.’

The tragic thing is that because my wife is English, and therefore beyond the reach of reason where salt water is concerned, she really will think it’s fun. Frankly I have never understood the British attachment to the seaside.

From The Complete Notes by Bill Bryson, Doubleday, London, 2000.

I walk along the ocean shore on my lunch break when I can.

Yesterday as Hurricane Milton approached the Gulf Shore of Florida, the day here was gray and gloomy.

Not a day for the beach.

The local park with the pirate ship jungle gym was full of kids in shorts running and screaming along with Dads in shorts watching while juggling cell phones and Moms in shorts, sitting on benches, wrapped in beach towels, wondered what happened to their sunny beach vacation.

The next day the sun was out.

Those families packed up and hit the beach.

But the sun was out.

There was a rip current going south that would sweep anyone off their feet.

But the sun was out.

The red flag was up.

But the sun was out.

The wind whipped along the beach sending sand flying in mini tornadoes about 6 inches about the shore, sand blasting everything in its path.

But the sun was out.

Umbrellas and beach tents were anchored by cinder blocks.

But the sun was out and the families hit the beach.

It will take more than a rip current, a red flag and a sandy breeze to keep those Moms from their sunny beach vacation.

I can hear those Moms as they packed up.

No, it will be great.

We’ll get sand in our hair.

We’ll get sand in our shoes.

We’ll get sand in our sandwiches and then in our mouths.

We’ll get sunburned and windburned.

And when we get tired of sitting, we can have a paddle in water so cold it actually hurts.

It will be such fun!

At least they were already on the Island.