Sand Chair

Making an effort to get away once a week.  Mostly successful at it.  NY last week.  About two very glorious hours in a sand chair at Cape Henlopen State Park this week.  Pittsburgh next week.  A few other outings as the summer moves along.  

I don't trust my Toyota Scout GPS for mostly good reasons, especially when familiar with the area.  This time it would have gotten me to the State Park, if not the beach itself, a few minutes sooner, but led meter astray afterwards to a winery that could have been more easily approached.  To the park, I followed the signs posted by the state highway department instead, got there uneventfully, changed, and schlepped a substantial striped sand chair and beach bag with light lunch onto the sand.  It being a hot midday, a lot of other people wanted to stake their sites as well, leaving me with a small hike to enough of a clearing to claim my couple of square meters.  Set up chair, eat peanut butter & jelly sandwich, sip water from insulated mug, take out sunglasses, put cell phone in protective pouch.

Check email, but it was my good fortune to find a place where internet doesn't invade.  Photographed waves instead, still and motion.  After a few minutes of supine semi-awareness, it was time to try the surf.  At most beach trips, only a few hardy or adventuresome kids challenge the waves, but it being hot, amateur and master bathers spanned a larger sampling of ages, including a few seniors like me.  Having lost my bifocals in the ocean last year, I approached with great caution.  T-shirt, Flyers cap, left on beach chair.  Glasses, iTouch Slim digital watch, and cell phone into the insulated lunch case, which still had a protein bar for later.  Since high tide approached, my own sand stake lied not far from the water's edge.  I nudged in a few steps at a time.  Given last year's misadventure, I took no risk of getting knocked down again, advancing toward Europe, or really New Jersey, only so far as to let the crest of a breaking wave get waist high for a few minutes.  It felt rather refreshing.

Then some time back into the sand chair to read a couple of e-book chapters, eat the protein bar, enjoy the surf one more time, repositioning my place a little to accommodate the approaching tide, more supine relaxation.  Enough sun, roughly two hours of it, reasonably protected with SPF 50.  Packed my things, folded the chair, got some exercise returning from the water's edge across the width of the sand to the boardwalk walkway to the bathhouse.  Civilian attire back on, then some exercise toting stuff to the middle portions of the parking lot.

I had decided to visit either a winery or brewery on the way home.  The parking lot had internet so I scanned for where.  Had enough of Dogfish Head, a minor detour from the path home.  They had advanced from tasting room proud to show off the creativity of their brewmaster to more of a minipub, charging $8 for a total of 12 oz suds in four 3 oz miniglasses.  I opted instead for a winery that I had not heard of before, Salted Vines.  I thought it was en route until instructed by the Scout GPS to head in the direction opposite home.  And quite a lot farther than I wanted to drive.  I stopped at the beach outlets, another downstate destination, but stayed in the car.  I requested the GPS to find our state's more venerable, enduring winery, Nassau Vineyards, which it did, though not by the simplest path.  Got there.  Usually you stop at the tasting room, pay a fee, and sample.  Some barriers to doing this.  I toured their mini-museum of wine culture, but on returning to pay the tasting fee, the attendant was nowhere to be found.  Another time.  I headed directly home, not stopping at Dogfish Head as a consolation prize either.

I knew the way home, arriving at about the time the GPS predicted.  Left my stuff in the car overnight.  Got out my souvenir beer glass from a prior trip to the Yeungling Brewery, pulled the tab on a Yeungling Black & Tan can, poured a dark brown liquid with just enough foam and bubbles to make me less thirsty, and unwound.