The old grey mare ain’t what she used to be, yet her services are still required. I’m referring to Bonnie, my mighty steed, the ancient Honda Accord I bought from Bonnie, a fabulous 88-year old woman I met at the beach two years ago. Bonnie, the car, is getting “long in the tooth”, as my Dad says. A blown hose in Seattle traffic, a river of antifreeze flowing down the hill, a dead battery, the 220,000th mile, all conspired to land-lock your correspondent.

landlockedAnd now Bonnie rides again, limping somewhat. Meanwhile, in a month’s time away, an amazing transformation has occurred: erosion stopped, weather improved, and by all appearances, it is now summer.

stormy window

window, springboys in waterLike the melting of the polar ice caps, destruction is on the radar, but it seems far away at the moment. I set off on a barefoot beach walk through the sculpture garden.

rebar sculptures

Doomed civilization

Doomed civilization

driftwood sculpture



sawblade selfie

sawblade selfie

may rubblebrickhosenetsClay etc.

The fort endures.

The fort endures.

Last of the yellow compound.

Last of the yellow compound.

aggregateMore proof of summer: the formation of what I call the Turtles, inland waterways, little round islands, curvaceous shapes in the sand.

turtle 1turtle 2turtle 3The sand is high in some areas, low in others, exhuming new areas of brick and concrete while completely concealing the gun turret. The tide was low enough to get to the other side of the Rockpile Peninsula Project.

rockpile There I was amazed to find the old Shipwreck still kicking around, four years later.

shipwreck 1shipwreck 2shipwreck 3Coming back over the Rockpile, I was looking for Lost Soles, abandoned flip-flops. Whether this has to do with tsunami debris or not, there are a lot of shoes afoot right now. Had I not been looking so closely, I would not have seen this little guy.

seal in rocksWhy do they call them seal pups when they look like kittens? Anyway, it is harbor seal pupping time. Their moms stash them on the beach, go fishing, and come back with dinner. You must NEVER touch them, for the stink of people makes their moms reject them. There was a story one year of a couple on Memorial Day bringing one back to their hotel room in Westport. Don’t do this. There’s a big ol’ fine for kidnapping marine mammals. I was glad this little guy was so well hidden, said hello and went on my way.

Of course I’ve had fantasies of bringing one home myself. The little guy would quickly grow from cat-sized to 300 lbs. I would install an enormous and elaborate salt water tank in my yard. I would train him to do tricks like balancing balls on his nose. We’d do partner acrobatics, me in a spangled swimsuit. I’d pick up hundreds of dollars worth of seafood every week at Pike Place Market for him. We’d perform for crowds to defray costs. Sure, it would be kinda mean to take him away from his family and ocean and ecosystem, but I would respect his intelligence and love him fiercely. I ran this fantasy by a friend of mine.

“The fresh seafood seems to be the only problem,” he replied.



About washybeach

Washaway Beach This Week is a blog by photojournalist Erika Langley. See more work at
This entry was posted in Beach Access. Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Artwalk

  1. Anna says:

    Love the selfie and your blog! Thanks, great stuff!

  2. bob says:

    Erika, this is an absolutely brilliant post! You are so gifted! Thoughtful and excellently narrated with great shots to match. I agree with your “friend” about the fresh sea food, though!

    > >

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s