The Skinny Island Post

 After several attempts, we were finally able to reassemble a scattered (oh, yes) staff, and over Huevos Rancheros this morning, determined to forge ahead with continued publication of The Skinny Island Post, but as a weekly.  Sundays, to be specific.  All things considered, this seems to be the most efficacious way forward.

Fifty-six degrees at the Little Hacienda on Skinny Island this morning, which, in our book, is close to chilly.  We took a pre-sunrise bike ride at low tide this morning, north for two and a half miles against a brisk northwest wind, then turned around and pretty much coasted home.  North winds the rule pretty much from here on out until spring.  You get used to it.  Several Osprey along the way, diving for mullet in the shallows; a spectacular sunrise; nobody else out.

 Rising just north of our path down to the beach at the Summer Solstice, the sun is now popping up way to the south.  Collectively, we take these signs, the temperature, north winds, sun trekking south, and mullet in the surf, as evidence summer is really over.  We are ready for the change, glad to leave the continuous tedium of heat and humidity behind, (though we will still have occasional bouts into December,) but truth be told we live for summer, and it won’t be long before we are complaining of the wind and chill, and longing for that feeling only summer brings.  We readily admit to being childish in that regard, and possibly others.

 It was a good summer, with lots of beach time, good waves from several storms that passed safely out at sea, good food, good friends, good books, and only a little introspection.  A month-long road trip to the Great American West helped, in both escaping the heat for a while, and in perspective.  But perhaps the greatest experience of this summer past was spending a lot of time with this guy, grandson Lain, four years old this month.  We had him all day most Saturdays, and quite a few Friday nights for sleepovers.  A more extraordinary, beautiful, intelligent, and loving child we can’t imagine.  We are indeed blessed to have had him close all his life.   He loves the ocean and beach, and playing in the wild hammock behind the house.  We think he’s had a good start in life.

 More shore birds arriving weekly.  Plenty of Sandpipers, and a few Willets, some Golden and Black-bellied Plover.  No Skimmers yet, though we saw a large contingent over on the Gulf coast last week.  Dolphin and rays cavorting in the still-warm water.  An elegant egret gracing a sunrise. We have noted that the changes are subtle here, but you look up one day and it’s all different.  The light is clearer and from a different angle; the edges of things are somehow sharper; no snakes to be seen; the anoles disappearing one by one; an absence of cicadas.  It’s autumn on Skinny Island.

Morning 8-26-11

A few rain bands blew in overnight with some intensity, but overall it was fairly quiet, except for the low, constant roar of a very disturbed ocean, of course.  Intermittent rain this morning as Irene moves north, directly opposite us at about 7 this morning.  Winds starting to shift to north and northwest, cleaning off the faces of incoming waves, still maxing out in the 10-12 foot range.  Some breaking at least a half-mile out.  Quite the sight through the mist and rain, the spray blowing off the tops in long, thin curtains.

Morning Glory Vines

No discernible erosion; high tide again about 6:30 this morning.  Maybe lost a little sand, but nothing like the 12-foot cliff left after Charley in ’04 took out most of the beach.  Looks like the morning glory vines survived.

Birds

A few shore birds out picking through sand and debris this morning.  Nothing much seems to phase them.  They hunker down through the worst, then pick up where they left off.  This is a Black Belly Plover and a Golden Plover, teaming up, I guess.

Easy to stand and watch this scene for long stretches.  It is so powerful and majestic.  Been caught a couple times mesmerized by incoming rain bands, thinking I could beat them back to the house, but its worth a little soaking.  Hurricanes at this distance are fun.  Hoping for the best for folks up the road.

Some remarkable photos of a wild ocean, with rain bands approaching.  Irene just a few miles to the southeast now.

Sunrise 8-25-11

The wind picked up a little overnight, but nothing to fret about; surf building from the sound.  Sunrise presented a fairly tranquil scene; waves cresting at 6-8 feet, winds from the east at 10-12 mph; scattered clouds blowing in fast from sea, but no rain.

10 a.m.: sustained winds at 12-15 now; waves in the 10-foot range and completely out of control.  You can clearly see the force of the surge coming in.  Poor wave form for surfing, but fun to watch; couldn’t paddle through the white water if we felt so inclined, and we don’t.

2 p.m.:  very blustery under still mostly sunny skies; winds at 15-20; seas continuing to build.  Hard to judge wave heights with so much turbulence and nobody out on them, but best guess is there are some 12-foot sets mowing through now.  The palms are all dancing wildly now, as is everything down to the beach sun flowers.  No beach or dune erosion yet, with next high around 6 p.m.  Worries up in Flagler county on A1A, about 8 miles from here, where last storm nearly undermined the road.  Lots of erosion there.  Our dune is intact and a good 10 feet above sea level, with the house another 4 feet higher.  Irene should be directly opposite us tomorrow, so we’ll know extent of any erosion then.  No wind damage expected.  It’s just a spectacular show, with hourly changes.

                                                                        This is from the roof of the studio.  The truck passing on A1A gives a little perspective, with the water about a hundred feet beyond.  Small craft warning in effect, especially trucks.

Sunrise 8-24-11

Beautiful sunrise from relatively placid ocean this morning.  Winds light, just a slight bump of swell in the water.  After breakfast we went to the back forty and cleared weeds from the garden area in preparation for a fall planting of herbs, lettuce, Swiss Chard, etc.  By the time that was done, and a decision made to put in some beach time in anticipation of deteriorating weather through the rest of the week, the first tentative swell from Irene, still a couple hundred miles to the southeast, had arrived, bumping up to a consistent 4 feet, with some bigger sets on a low tide.  Papa grabbed his trusty 9-footer, of course, ’cause I don’t think I’ll be paddling out at the height of this thing.  Some forecasts had wave heights of 22-24 feet.  That’s totally out of control.

Early Irene

It was fun, and you could definitely feel the power, even at this smaller scale.  The waves were thick and fast, and with a following southeast wind, tended to close out, meaning sections of the wave fell over in front rather than the whole thing uniformly peeling down a line.  West winds smooth off the face of a wave and tend to help it break more cleanly and uniformly.  We’re hoping for that by Saturday, when the monster aspect should have diminished and the storm is pulling away.

Set Waves

A few good rides today, but got worked a few times in close-outs, too, and endured some thrashing when caught inside by bigger set waves.  It started becoming unmakable at dead low tide, so I came in and just watched for a time as sets of 6-feet and more loaded in.

A few scudding clouds, and light off-shore winds, but it’s remained a beautiful day.  Have gone across to check the situation periodically, prompted by a pretty consistent roar from there.  Looks like its holding at about 4-5 feet, but mostly choppy and bad form.  Will probably try again in the morning, which I expect will be glassy and bigger, but not yet full-on.  Reflexes ain’t what they used to be, so no foolishness.

Crusty Sand Dollar

Somnolence again.  We haven’t discussed somnolence for a while, with good reason:  we’ve been so thoroughly under its influence these slow-baked August days here on Skinny Island we haven’t been compelled to muster the initiative to record the mostly subtle, but moving changes this month brings to the beach.  In that we have been remiss.  Blame somnolence.  For the uninitiated, uninformed, or just plain slow, Somnolence is “the quality or state of being drowsy” and, in this part of the world, anyway, is sun-induced.  Anyway, we found this crusted sand dollar this morning, generally the only way we find them whole. I think other critters attach themselves to these exoskeletons of the dead dollar, and secrete a gluey, sandy substance that keeps the thing intact in its trip to shore through rough water.

Clean Sand Dollar

In the only work I’ve managed in days, I carefully scrapped off the exudate with a fingernail, and Viola! a Whole sand dollar.  Cool.

For more than a week we have been under the influence of a weather pattern that has eliminated the daily development of a sea breeze, normally our saving grace, the phenomenon of heated air rising on the mainland which draws air in from the much cooler ocean.  The current pattern consists of mostly clear skies and light west winds, which makes for exceptionally calm, clear, green water, but also soaring temperatures and humidity.  Stay in the water, you’re fine; but only steps away, you cook.

8-23-11

Until today.  Quite out of nowhere, after another morning of very calm water and no wind, a stiff breeze kicked up out of the east, completely unrelated to Hurricane Irene to our south, churning up the ocean, and making things much cooler.  As mentioned, Irene is churning to the southeast of us, taking aim on the Bahamas chain as a Cat 1 storm as we speak.  It is expected to intensify to a Cat 3 or 4 in open water, steering clear of our coast on its way north, but providing, I anticipate, epic surf.  Thought it would be fun to do daily updates as it moves by us, with pictures.  Stay tuned.

This is a beach Morning Glory I caught in early light.  They close up, of course, as the sun rises.  The tendrils of this plant run a good forty feet down onto the beach from the dune, where this blossom reigned, and I suspect it won’t survive the expected tidal surge to come.

Morning Glory

I am sitting in a hot little room, (it’s August, after all, get over it) surrounded by canvases finished and unfinished, paints, linseed cans, guitars, mandolins, ukuleles, surfboards, bicycles, many, many books, and looking at the Atlantic Ocean under a gently loping ceiling fan.  The sum of my life thus far.  Contented?  Oh, yeah.  Saw a beautiful rat snake on the deck today, a manta ray jump four feet clear of the water.  The evening crickets and cicadas are starting up.

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Went to a local Class A baseball game last night, and very first thing had to stand through another horrible rendition of the National Anthem by a well-meaning, but wrongly encouraged and completely talentless young lady, who changed keys with every labored breath, her pace that of a heavily medicated sloth with aspirations of grandeur.  An impossibly terrible tune to begin with, virtually unsingable, it seems to attract those who would be wise to stick to “Three Blind Mice,” or some variation of “Row, Row, Row Your Boat,” but insist, unbelievably, on trying to mimic Aretha Franklin, who couldn’t sing it either.  I have no problem with a recording of say, the Marine Band, but please, no more.  It makes me want to go out even less than I do.  And to make matters worse, they always insist, in the seventh-inning stretch, to have some school kids attempt “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.”  If you ever needed evidence for the lunacy of de-funding music in the schools, here it is.  None of the little scoundrels can carry a tune in a hand basket.  And nobody cares.  It’s insane!  They think it cute.  It isn’t.

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OK, I’m going now.  The August bats have arrived.

Home Beach

Swinging easily back into the ocean dictated life here on Skinny Island after a month-long romp in the wild, wild west.  Bike ride on the beach this morning indicated not much has changed– the usual suspects out for their 6:30 walk– but it’s August, a transition month, and there were a few more Plover and Willet working the surf than when we left.  The tropics are active; watching a storm brewing east of the islands.

 While we were gone there was apparently a good bit of rain, which encouraged the beach sunflowers to grow out over the front deck and threaten to come into the house.  A few more days and they would have.  I’ve always thought that would be kind of nice, to come home one day and have the outside growing in.  There’s a certain Gabriel Marquez feel to that, a tropical dream. Stay tuned.
 August and September are our best months for waves, with it getting real good, of course, when there are storms offshore.  No storms out there today, but there were some nice little two and three-footers rolling in, making for a nice re-entry into this exercise after a long absence.  a pure southeast swell, they were peeling long and smooth near shore making for long, easy rides of fifty yards and more.  Quite the good time.  It’s good to be back on the Skinny Island.

One of the heroes of my youth ( and his charming and lovely wife) paid a visit and had lunch with us in the little hacienda today.  Not often is a classmate and contemporary a hero but he was, and is, with good reason.  Integrity is the word that jumps to mind. Always there, still intact.  Integrity, honesty, dedication.   Teacher, coach, mentor.  all around good person.  Another wonderful reconnection; another blessing.  We decided it was OK getting old.