While we'd previously agreed on a beach day, a certain someone had to go work for a certain company on a certain day otherwise known as Sunday. I took one for the team, chin high I sallied forth alone into the unknown. It was a bright clear day, hot, sticky. Beach-worthy.
New York does have beaches, believe it or not. The one I chose is an hour away, on the western edge of Fire Island. It was created by that mad genius Robert Moses. I disagree with a lot of what he did, but no complaints here. Ten miles of completely open beach, nary a structure in sight. No hotels, no condos, no nothing.
Well almost nothing. He gets extra credit for laying down a golf course between the dunes and the bay.
It's a small pitch and putt. I played all 18 in an hour and change and shot two over. Great short game practice.
Many of the holes have either a view of the dunes or the bay behind.
An hour away from NYC but feels like a million miles. Rabbits relaxing in the fairways, deer rustling the bushes in your back swing.
The beach is a hundred yards away from the 18th hole. It's a bit jarring for them to be so close to each other.
I walked a quarter mile down the beach to a quieter stretch. Pitched my umbrella, stripped down to my trunks and dipped in. One moment the water was knee-high and the next it was up to my neck and sucking me out with all its might. I had to kick so hard to get back that my legs are sore a day later. Turns out there was a nasty rip current that day. That's what the red flags in the previous picture denote. Guess I shoulda paid closer attention.
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