The Beach

Of all that is unique and special about Grayton Beach, most first time visitors will remark about only two things: the sand and the water. The sand is most often described as sugary. It is an appropriate description for the sand is perfectly white and crystalline. The remains of quartz rock, pulverized to small grains by years of tumbling waves and blowing wind, the sand is deep and soft, so soft that bare feet will sink into it up to the ankle. Along the sides of the dunes the wind-blown sand is unpacked. As youngsters we delighted in jumping from the tops of eighty-foot dunes into the silky and sheltering cushion.

If you ventured westward through the dunes you would encounter several natural landings that always were an occasion for pause and inspection. Standing alone in the wide reaches of the western dunes was a single pine tree, at least 100 feet high I would guess, with nothing but a few branches and some green pine needles spreading out at its top reaches like a cap. We called this tree the Lonesome Pine. It was an appropriate moniker, for it maintained a solitary and diligent sentinel over the western dunes. More than one of us carved the initials of their sweethearts into the scrawny bark of this silent companion.

Not far from Lonesome Pine sat Magnolia Cave, a natural outcropping of magnolia trees that spread out on the northern slope of a broad, low dune. The canopy of Magnolia Cave provided a cool and expansive refuge from the sun and sand. Its unique and welcoming beauty was hard to resist. Half way to Alligator Lake and within site of Orange Mountain, it was a perfect retreat for rest and reflection.

If the day was young and your heart full of adventure, you might wander even further west, wading through the auburn-colored streams of Alligator Lake until you reached Orange Mountain. Really nothing more than a collection of eastward-looking dunes, Orange Mountain was layered with brown clay, casting upon the dunes a distinctive orange glow. It was commonly known that American Indians had once set up camp along this stretch. Close to the banks of a fresh-water stream, within a holler of the most beautiful beach in America, it was a prime slice of real estate. One had to envy the folks who must have enjoyed the natural beauty and providence of Grayton Beach hundreds of years before the first American settlers. Reverently, my cousin and I would dig for artifacts in the chalky sand, imagining a time long forgotten.

Unfortunately, Lonesome Pine was a casualty of hurricane Eloise in 1975 and Orange Mountain was bulldozed to make room for a subdivision. Magnolia Cave has been reconfigured by a series of tropical disturbances and many of the highest dunes have become unweildy foundations for beach homes. We can thank the state of Florida for marking off a good chunk of what is left in both directions as Grayton Beach State Park. More and more, everyday, that stroke of legislative oversight is looking like a stroke of genius.

Perhaps many of the finest memories we took from the Grayton Beach dunes were set ablaze from the sparks of the many bonfires which marked our summer nights. About every couple of weeks, when the mood was right, the stars were aligned, and the driftwood had washed up providently, we'd pitch a bonfire somewhere out on the dunes. We'd usually place it in the bowl of four high dunes, or sometimes, if the wind was calm, out on the clear stretches of sand. Wherever the fire finally got lit, it would always attract everyone that had an eye for adventure or romance. A few adults would usually show up to keep things in order, organize the roasting of wieners and marshmallows and tell old stories, while the youngsters would race up and down the dunes, chasing every shadow and sound, leaving the teenagers to wander lustfully throughout the seaoats and shadows. Romance and wanderlust circled the bonfire like lightning bugs in a mating dance. No pollution or township light diluted the night sky and it was easy to look up at the Milky Way, so filled with starlight that indeed it looked milky, or stare at the brilliant clarity of the moon, laying back with your head on the soft pillow of a sand dune, leaving your thoughts to rise up with the spark and sparkle of the fire into the farthest reaches of the universe. There was nothing more invigorating than the whispering rumors of a bonfire at Grayton Beach, nothing more encapsulating of the spirit that was The Beach.

The sands along all beaches are restless; they are shaped by the wind and rain, growing vicariously with each seedling or stray log of driftwood. But along this stretch of Florida's coast the sand is about as soft and white as it comes. Photographs of these beaches may resemble any number of landscapes, depending on the time of day and how the light hits the sand. Often the beach looks like a rolling field covered with deep snow, or occasionally----most often near sunset, when the light is full of reds and browns----the dunes could easily be imagined to exist on some distant, uninhabited planet. On this planet, however, there is probably no beach anywhere that has sand as pleasant and comfortable for the sightseer, the explorer, or the sunbather. It is mostly the sand people talk about when they use superlatives to describe Grayton Beach. Only the beautiful greens and blues of the Gulf of Mexico can balance such splendor.

Like the welcoming sand, the waters of the Gulf of Mexico seem perfectly designed for any visitor in search of natural beauty and relaxation. The sea-bottom is made up of the same soft sand and it slopes out gently, so that on many days, if you hunt down the right sand bar, you can walk out a hundred yards or more. The waves are almost always mild, a drawback if you're a surfer, but a wonderful benefit if you have children to keep track of. The Gulf waters pose few hazards to children or adults alike. Worst you can point out are the little fish that insist on nibbling at your toes in the shallow waters. Though sometimes seaweed will drift in with the Gulfstream (usually its a green, rather slimy variety, or perhaps sargassum seaweed) mostly the water is crystal clear. At mid-day the Gulf water is a brilliant emerald color which fades into a deep blue as the water deepens. The light surf rolls in quietly, providing a modest background roar, just audible at every reach of Grayton Beach, a reminder to everyone to slow things down, and whatever project you were thinking about, it can wait a little while.

This is a little of what I remember about the most beautiful beach in America. There are a hundred stories for every tale that is told, but they'll have to wait for now. For me, the memories are timeless. In my life I'll always hear the light whistling of the Gulf as it splashes in the distance from where I lay curled up on a flimsy bed near a flapping screen. And I'll always hear the sound of footsteps racing across the sandy wood floor of The Store. And late at night, fresh out of a dream, I'll suddenly remember my childhood, and I'll hear the sounds of crickets and toads in the woods, singing to me of romance, beauty, and the vanishing wilderness.