I have moments where for no rhyme or reason I dig my heels in and don't move. This was one of those rare (let's just pretend here) moments.
I was being stubborn. We drove all this way and we were so close. All I wanted to do was sit on the beach. To sit and watch the waves crash on the shore. To relive that feeling of being at peace, one more time. Just for a moment before our lives kicked up again and we get swept away by the current.
The weather. Well. Mother Nature had her own plans.
To use the word "windy" would be an understatement. Try "gail force freakin winds".
And there I was with my pop up tent trying to sit on the beach. We got it set up and I stubbornly sat in it. Partially because if I got up it would have blown away, literally. Hubs made the best of it and bought a kite. He got it up in the air with no trouble at all and kept it up there for the twenty minutes that we braved the weather.
I was disappointed. Heartbroken that the weather had put a damper on the one thing I wanted to do and mad at myself for dragging my Hubs and darling Clover out in the wind. Clover couldn't play with her new sand bucket because every time she got low to the ground the wind blew sand in her face. She had been waiting so patiently to use it since we picked it out at the store.
I sucked it up and ordered Hubs to take Clover and head to the safe harbor that is Rojo Grande. He went to argue and I dismissed it. It was my fault that we were out there. I was the one to clean up and pack up. I reeled the kite in one turn at a time. Fighting the wind with every turn of the kite handle. All while holding the tent down with my foot and half of my body. The winds were so strong that had I moved my body the tent would have been gone. I later used this to my advantage. Since the tent was brand new I had no idea how to get it back in the bag. Let alone how to collapse the darn thing. So I grabbed everything in the picnic bag and threw it over my shoulder. I then held on to the tent and let the wind help me carry it to the truck. I literally used the tent as a sail to help get me and all our stuff up the hill. Turning to get back towards the truck was a little tricky. So there was my stubborn butt tent sailing my happy go lucky self up the beach. Four people passed me. How many helped me? Not a damn one! I had it all under control and probably would have refused help but it would have been nice had someone at least asked! Two of them actually stopped to make jokes about me taking my tent for a walk. I smiled and laughed them off. Thanks humanity for your help. As soon as I was near, Hubs came to help me wrangle every thing. When I got to Rojo it was much easier to assess the tent situation and figure out how to collapse it. I couldn't figure out how it fit back in the bag so we threw it in the back seat. Once in the nice warm cab of the truck we could laugh about our adventure and at the seagulls that refused to move out of the way of Rojo Grande.
The spa back at the hotel helped us shed the layers upon layers of sand that seemed to stick to every inch of us. I can only imagine the nice sand pile that is currently sitting at the bottom. The warm water seemed to melt away the misadventure. Even in the retelling of the story I am still a bit mad at myself. I guess it's just one of those moments where I am supposed to "live and learn" I guess next time I should take a look around a bit before I dig my heels in. If to do nothing other than make sure I wont get blown away.