When we’re
kids the world seems big and indestructible.
As we grow up it becomes smaller and smaller. Changes come, some for the better and some
not. The sad part is that some of these
changes are basically inevitable and all you can do is watch as it happens.
Over the
last few years I wrote a series of articles for Cape Cod Life dealing with the
changes on the Cape and Islands due to erosion and shoreline change. In my lifetime I have witnessed the breaks in
Chatham’s North Beach and then South Beach, several breaches at Norton Point on
Martha’s Vineyard, the moving of three lighthouses, the loss of several sets of
stairs at Nauset Light Beach, the decimation of the former Marconi Site, the
gaping hole in Ballston Beach, the collapse of the parking lot at Herring Cove
Beach, the repeated stripping of sand from Town Neck Beach, and last summer’s
sinkhole at the Beachcomber just off the top of my head.
However
nothing could prepare me for what I saw last weekend as I watched one of my
favorite places on Cape Cod be forever changed.
It was a
strange kind of sadness as a powerful Nor’easter shredded through the
picturesque dunes of Nauset Beach. I am
sure that all of you reading this have places that have been special to you as
you grew up. Whether you lived on Cape
Cod like me, or anywhere in the world, the places you enjoy as a child stay
with you and can take you back to those simpler times whenever you see them
again.
For those
who may not be familiar with it, Nauset Beach lies on the Atlantic Ocean side
of Cape Cod in the town of Orleans. It has
been known for its expanse of pristine sand, surfing, and off-road trails for
decades. There are 559.6 miles of Cape
Cod coastline and this stretch of beach is mentioned with the best on the Cape
including Sandy Neck, Race Point, Craigville, and others.
The Eldia on Nauset Beach in 1984 (WreckHunter.net) |
My first
memory of Nauset Beach goes back to March 29, 1984 when a 471-foot freighter named
the Eldia was stranded just offshore during a powerful Nor’easter. It became a huge tourist attraction for early
spring on the Cape. People came from all
over to gaze at the mammoth steel beast wedged neatly in the sand. I was 6-years-old and was brought there by my
mother Laurie, my stepfather Paul, my 4-year-old sister Kate, and my baby brother Matt. The Greek-owned ship remained marooned for
nearly two months before being pulled free and ultimately scrapped. The sight of the gigantic red and blue ship
towering over me was matched only by the enormity of the beach itself which
stretched out into infinity, or so I thought then.
As a child
trips to Nauset were rare since it was a 30 minute drive from my home to get
there. Ironically I visited Nauset more
often when a large storm would be hitting Cape Cod, to see the big waves that
are common on the ocean side. According
to the Massachusetts Coastal Zone Management the average erosion rate along
Nauset Beach is just under 5-feet per year.
This meant that all of those exciting storms were slowly removing the
very beach I loved visiting.
In 2011 I
was lucky enough to get my first book deal.
It would be a book featuring the sites and history of Cape Cod, an
opportunity to showcase my home to the world.
Which place on the Cape did I choose to grace the cover of that book?
Why that would be Nauset Beach. A
majestic shot of the fence-lined walkway at the southern end of the parking lot
leading over the dunes was in my opinion the perfect way to invite readers to
pick up my book. I wanted each and every
person who saw that photo to go and experience the awe-inspiring beauty of
Nauset Beach. Sadly after a pair of huge
winter storms, one in January and the other last weekend, the landscape from the
book cover has become a memory.
I have
never seen anything like what I saw at Nauset Beach March 4th. With the direct route to the beach partially
blocked by cautionary sawhorses I chose to enter via Pochet Neck. The dirt parking lot is a favorite spot, with
a bridge leading over a marsh which empties into Pleasant Bay. It is usually an easy walk across the bridge,
passing over the ORV trail, and up the dunes for a beautiful view of the beach
nearly a half-mile south of the main Nauset parking lot.
At high
tide the creek, usually about thirty-feet wide in most areas, took on the look
of a lake, encompassing all of the marsh.
One after another giant waves could be seen crashing on the shore of the
beach nearly 1,000-feet away. The water
spilled into the marsh, coming over the dunes from all directions and turning
the ORV trail into a two-foot deep rushing river.
Partially
on the instinct of wanting to get a closer look, and partially in a stunned
shock I walked along the sand finding higher ground to take photos. However, when a barrage of waves caused a
rush of water to momentarily surround my perch I decided that discretion was
the better part of valor and I returned to my car while the bridge was still passable.
There were
a few dozen people taking in the surge at the main parking lot. Sadly it was here that I got a better grasp
of the damage. It was a shocking sight to see as at times when the waves
crashed there literally was no beach between the ocean and dunes. The scene which I had photographed for the
cover of my first book had been totally destroyed, no more fence, no more
grass, no more benches. In fact it now
resembled a sand castle which had been slowly disintegrated by the sea.
The changes are apparent (Facebook, Orleans Nauset Beach) |
Just as the
famed Blizzard of ’78 irreparably changed the face of Coast Guard Beach in
Eastham these pair of Nor’easters have done to same to the beloved Nauset
Beach. It is a shocking and sad turn of
events, and as someone who was born and raised here it is almost like experiencing
the loss of a loved one. Change is
inevitable especially when it comes to our shoreline on Cape Cod. In addition to attempting to armor up the
remaining coast, replenishing sand where possible, and retreating from the
erosion where necessary there is one very important thing we who live and visit
here can do. Enjoy every moment while we
have them, because things might change very slowly, or as we have seen two
swift punches by Mother Nature can completely obliterate an iconic landmark.
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