…Miles that is. It is the distance from The Chicken’s Nest, here in the Swamps of Jersey to Assateague Island, Maryland and back give or take a few miles for pit stops and Starbucks runs. This has become a family tradition for us. Every Father’s Day we camp on the beach with the wild ponies and go to the Maryland Geocachers Association’s Bonfire on the Beach. The fires and ponies are all well and good but the real crazy stuff happens when the girls and me hit the beach. You see Gentle Reader, the waves there are not like the waves that we are accustom too down here at the southern end of the Jersey Shore – oh no; these are WAVES and they will take you out. Somewhere down deep there is a gene that pulls me (and the three chicks too) to water. It is magnetic. Being in and ultimately a part of the shear force and energy of the ocean is an amazing experience. Being caught up in an 8 to 12-foot wave, riding the swell like a cork as it passes you by on its way to break against the beach is something that just must be experienced to truly appreciate. What an undertow! We read about the riptides but didn’t experience any – which I am pleased about since being caught in one could sweep you out hundreds of yards into the Atlantic Ocean. No – none of us are that good a swimmer so we just play in the waves. We absolutely love it.
The campsite was great and we shared it with friends from New Jersey – geocachers and friends all. As a family the five of us camp in a tent usually without electricity or water, but this year we had the luxury of having an electric site, which was great since I could plug in my C-Pap and breath through the night.
Oh yeah, good times.
My early Father’s Day present, Maggie (a dash mounted Magellan GPS unit), performed amazingly once again. Mother Hen can now sleep without me asking when our next turn will be; that’s a good thing since she got a pretty good sun poisoning on her leg and did a lot of sleeping on the ride home. Come to think of it, she’s sleeping now as I write this.
The kids and I, after packing, took one last look at the ocean. I stood there with my babies and thanked them for such a wonderful Father’s Day weekend. Priceless.
Thanks also go to the wonderful woman I married. I would have told her on the beach too but she was busy applying aloe to her blistered and weeping leg.
Good times, good times.
I love you lady.
Signed; the luckiest man alive, Evil Chicken