The Beach of Dead Things

Let me tell you a story of how I discovered my inner Stephen King and the beach that inspired it. It happened that I was in the Bay City area and I got the chance to spend the night camping up there.  I’m not one to turn down an opportunity to camp, even when I don’t know the area.

So my companion and I drove into the Bay City Recreation Area Campground and proceeded to set up camp and have a lovely dinner at a local restaurant.  Afterward we wanted to spend some time at the beach, watching the sunset, so we got our swimsuits on and wandered across the street.  There was a really nice splash pad and we both thought it would be a good place to take our kids. We saw that there was a barrier of marshland between us and the shore, and found a path to the bay. 

It seemed a normal, if skinny, beach with sand and driftwood.  We noticed that the consistency of the sand seemed oddly spongy, and wondered where all the people were.  As a lark I climbed out on a dead tree over the edge of the wet sand.  I jumped down and rather than landing on sand as I expected I sank mid calf into muck.

That was when we began to notice the dead fish.

I began to photograph them after a while, ribs and sculls and spines.  Sometimes they were all too whole. We continued onward as the mood changed from a holiday excursion to something darker and more ominous.  We saw how the edge of the sand behaved strangely, and was not sand like at all really.  Nor was it like dirt or anything I had seen before. 

Ahead, like a vision we saw a much more normal beach, where people appeared to be swimming and enjoying themselves, a far cry from the dead fish and sucking muck that we had been experiencing.  A mud flat separated us from it. We saw a log that had been placed as a bridge and an attempt at crossing was made. 

It was not a mud flat.  My companion sank deep into the muck when she fell, up to her thighs and for a moment I thought she might go under.  It was a shock to realize what I had though was shallow mud was in fact a deep river and we had in fact discovered a real live Bog of Eternal Stench.

As a child I liked to make up stories about my surroundings.  A cluster of pine trees was the Gnome Woods.  An oddly shaped rock was the remains of an angry troll who had lived under the overpass.  As I walked I filled in names for this place as well.

I had discovered the Beach of Dead Things.  The tall stands of the white poplars seemed to harbor dark things in their fluttering leaves.  The tall grasses obscured my vision and strange burrs cut my feet.  I heard the gulls sharp calls as they fought over a catfish.  We saw five white cranes while scrambling along the quickly shrinking beachfront path and they were a graceful counterpoint to the disturbing qualities of the land.

In the distance we could see what looked like a power plant, with a huge pile of what appeared to be coal in front of it.  Heat waves radiated from it, distorting the light as we wondered what it was.  I haven’t been able to figure it out either.  I can find it on the map, but no company lays claim to the immense structure of smokestacks and buildings.  I wonder if the death and weirdness that lay on the land there was connected to the heat that rose from the buildings there.

Eventually we found our way to the people beach (which was not much better and still littered with dead things) We discovered the Flower Fen, where a swan lived.  It’s rare to see wild swans in these parts and it was a special moment for me.  In my dreams and visions I sometimes fly as a swan and it was strange to see something so sacred to me in something so disturbing.

Bay City is the land of Dow.  For many years I heard how Dow gave them jobs and good things, but I see this place and I think that the truth is darker than that. This was a place where beauty and death came together.  Like many marshlands it was not a place where humans dwell easily.  I saw small, deep footprints of children who had swam in these marginal waters and I worried for them and their families. I was glad that my children were safe at home while I explored this borderland. 

This was a land of despair and hope.  I saw the diversity and healing that the marshland provided, and though I felt uncomfortable there, I also felt a lifting in my heart as I wandered along sandy paths watching the sunset.  Sometimes it is a good thing to confront the disturbing and the strange.  It opens us up to live in a fuller way in our daily lives.  It’s too easy to live complacent.  We move from one comfortable place to another. I type this on my laptop with tea in a shop.  I see the river, and a mulberry and an elm tree through the window, but there is no discomfort here.  I’m glad I had the chance to confront that strange beautiful marsh.  I feel more alive for it. I feel more committed to healing the land where I live and to using less and living more.  

I give thanks for the flying cranes and the graceful swan. 

I give thanks for rising moon and the red sinking sun.

I give thanks to the poplars and the grasses,

And to the flowering herbs:

Healers and holders of the land

Spirits all, of green and gold

Though to me you be unkind

Friends of Gaia, you are friends of mine.