Mid-morning found me seated upon a suspended swinging armchair at Tower Beach staring directly into the sun hanging high in the sky above the glistening ocean. The soft but determined wind blew onto me from across the choppy white and blue. The ocean sparkled in a wedge to the shore from a point on the horizon. The giant sea pines and Palmetto ferns sighed. The air was rich with moisture from the wispy clouds. On the boardwalk I overheard the patter of feet of other worshippers of the sea, or the click of a bicycle being walked, as they followed the piper’s charm to the beach amidst the billows of sea air and radiant sunshine.
After breakfast and my constitutional tricycle ride earlier this morning (when I visited the bicycle rental shop and exchanged the entire tricycle for another because the former seat was insecure), I drove along Dune Lane parallel the ocean to see whether there were any places to stop the car then wander onto the beach. There were not. The private homes along the exceedingly narrow laneway are too congested to permit anything other than intermittent walking access and racks for bicycles. On another subsequent occasion I may investigate N Forest Beach Drive though I suspect any parking lots will be further removed from the beach than is convenient for me when plodding along with a stick. All this is new to me even though I have bicycled along the identical route in the past. This time I’m checking things out from the perspective of an automobile.
It was this latter alteration which prompted me to return home and stop at Tower Beach. The gate attendant waved me in and wished me a pleasant day. There I dozed on the wooden swing chair and complimented myself for having so skilfully adapted to old age. Though I may no longer have either the ambition or capacity to cycle for miles along the beach, I was unquestionably enjoying the convenience and relaxation (especially after having already expiated my ever-present athletic guilt earlier this morning). An elderly passerby walking his little dog paused to share his unanimous consent of the weather.
Being on Hilton Head Island again this year, and addressing the increasingly indisputable restrictions of old age and declining well being, have obliged me to reconfigure what were my erstwhile customs here. There was a time I would have cycled all day upon the beach from one end to the other. Now, the first critical change is the transition from a bicycle to a tricycle. When we arrived here several days ago I tried riding a step-through bicycle but even that was too much of a challenge; I felt unsafe. The tricycle, though comfortable, is far less agile; indeed having the three tyres to propel makes for harder work than bicycling (but I haven’t the fear of losing my balance or becoming unsuitably or dangerously awkward). It’s a compromise. The advantage however is that, by confining myself to a smaller radius (which still includes the beach if I wish), I can afford myself ample exercise with the benefit of a swing chair at nearby Tower Beach.
As for the ocean perspective, it is only minutes from our cottage which nicely faces Braddock Cove and has the benefit of late afternoon sunshine. The Cove perspective is admittedly more retiring than the ocean views. The Lands End community is secluded and private with lovely laneways for a meaningful morning outing. The other residential areas nearby also afford welcome detours and vistas upon the ocean, literally minutes away.
All this tarsome comparison and calculation is the result of changing times. Having just begun our interlude here it gratifies me to know that I have already fashioned for myself a new and desirable model of conduct which I can cheerfully pursue for the remainder. I might also mention that my partner has similarly altered his own course of conduct, the philter of which (in the first week) includes daily walking outings throughout Sea Pines for an estimate of 8 Kms each.