It’s not a crowded beach. It’s a very small beach. There is one hotel, two modest motels, an amazing pizza parlor and a bar that’s situated in the trees. I sleep on the third floor where mornings are fragile and still until, full of sleep, I wake to the sound of waves caressing the shore as the scent of coffee and fresh bagels fill the air. This is my hideout. A place I often go in Summer, to sit in the sun, swim in the ocean and try catch a glimpse of the extraordinary. A miracle that happens every year– nestled in the midst of a breathy sea breeze, miles of warm sand and a gentle, lapping tide. The place where the turtles are.
Hatched onto their now home-beach, they will live their entire lives in the ocean, returning to these same shores to perpetuate life’s cycle. I wanted to scoop them up for a quick cuddle the moment I saw their tiny shelled bodies with flippers scrambling and help them into sunset waves- but instead I decided to watch from a short distance and fancy myself privileged to be a part of such an organic, natural wonder. How remarkably magical and enchanting they really are!