Well, Wendy and I are back from our beach vacation on High Island. We had a good time - we did almost nothing! ;) Our typical routine was to wake up, watch the gulls and pelicans from our porch, eat some breakfast, sit on the beach for a while, snooze in the afternoon, and then watch the beach some more in the evening, including fireworks shows put on by several of our neighbors. It was very nice and relaxing. There was a lot of seaweed on the beach, but we were there more for the view than for actual swimming, so it was OK.
Though, we did have one bit of adventure. On Thursday, we decided we'd be daring and try to find the nude beach on High Island. We had a pretty good idea where it was, so we headed off. I knew that it was supposed to be just a mile or so beyond where the highway was supposedly "closed" but was passable anyway. There was sand covering the pavement, but I expected that, and we continued on. Then we got back to pavement.. All right - we started scanning for signs saying "warning, naked people ahead" or something like that. Or perhaps we'd just stumble on a bunch of exposed people. But we saw nobody, and no signs, so we kept going. Then the sand came back. Shallow at first, but soon deeper and deeper. Before we knew it, we were driving in furrows in the sand about as deep as the tires on my Xterra. We came to the conclusion that we were in trouble. I was sure we'd get stuck if we attempted to leave the grooves we were following in the "road" so we continued on, looking for a safe place to turn around.
Well, the sand finally got a little less deep, so we decided to brave it. I left the safety of my "road" and headed for open sand. And we got out! Unfortunately, my turning radius isn't very good, so I had to stop and back up in order to turn around (the beach isn't very wide.) That's when we got stuck. We tried putting beach debris under the tires, but no luck. Even my trusty BLT tee-shirt was called in to service, to try to give more traction. No go. Finally, after about 1/2 hour, I dug enough of a channel under the tires to get a little momentum. Wendy gave it some gas while I pushed (like that was going to do anything) and we were out. I quickly took over the wheel. Wendy wanted nothing to do with driving in that stuff. We refused to stop for anything. Even my poor shirt was left, abandoned on the beach, because we didn't dare stop to pick it up. :(
I guess we just weren't supposed to get to that beach.