Turns out the weekend was more. More than a no toys at hand couple of days, and so much more than a healthy diet. Our trip was joy. Nothing, if not joy.
Our trip was sunrise wake ups but we did more than munch eggs and sip coffee until it was bright enough to seize the day. Instead, our trip was sneak down the long path in the black of the night to be dazzled by the starry sky over the ocean.
Our trip was foam on your feet. It was sandy smiles and ocean breeze snoozes.
It was ugly birthday cake eaten on a fallen palm tree washed ashore while listening to nothing but the surf and gulls. (I mean it, this poor thing went through the ringer. But don’t you worry we gobbled it up none the less).
It was lanterns and camp fires. It was responsibility for my three-year old hard-working boy. It was joy at seeing him gather the fuel and then (carefully) feed that fascinating and mesmerizing fire too.
A moment of glory and beauty and marvel. We met up with some amazing volunteers at the moments before that old ball of flame rose up high in the sky to hike out to the nests of the giant underwater beasts.
The loggerback sea turtle. They were assessing the survival of three nests that morning. They were able to help four tiny babes, no bigger than your palm scurry down to the sea. Mind you the lucky ones of these sweet little turtles will grow to be upwards of three hundred pounds.
It is vital that these little ones do this hike on their own. No tossing them in and wishing them luck. They need to imprint this beach in their pea sized brains for this is where they will come back in thirty years time to lay their own couple hundred eggs. So we formed two lines. Us and some boy scouts and some older folks decked out in bright orange. And we witnessed the most incredible display of effort and instinct I have ever laid eyes on.
Good luck out there little ones. Lee and I plan to come back in thirty years, when we are old and gray and try to catch a glimpse of you all grown up. So, until next time…