Descriptive Essay About Going To The Beach

A few miles northeast of Bath ME, down the stretch of route 1, to the right, you come to a dusty road covered in rocks and leaves. The rocky dirt road comes to a stop were a small, rough path takes you through the peach colored brush to a hot sandy beach. The beach glimmers in the sunshine turning the grainy sand into a golden blanket. The beach winds around westward clifts for four miles. Towards the east, segmented by a river emptying its contents, the beach gradually plunges down into the chilly Atlantic ocean, where rushing water from the river clashes with the salt water. The waves roll and crash on in like the sound of African drums, on rhythm that never stops. On the horizon where the water meets with the sky an island sits with a lighthouse perched on the land looking out for dangers that lurk. The sky continues on to the animated clouds, carrying one's eyes up to the heavens.

We passed many tents and men. Most of them looked young, about 20, like my brother Peter. We we’re only a few years apart. The jeep then came to a halt, the small man popped out of the car and motioned for us to follow him. He slipped into a small tent and the rest of us followed. Inside was a small table made of wood, on it was a small clay lamp. The flicker of the flame was faint, with a dim glow that lit up the

Alone, in the distance I notice a colourless, lifeless piece of foam that rocks over the waves, tussling to stay afloat. It is wanting attention, it is battling to get noticed by the teenagers that once spent their summer days plunging into the water.Instead, they briskly walk by and get a rapid glimpse of what summer looked like and a reminder of the hot blazing days that are gone.Instead of the groups of teens, the only recognition it gets now is from the birds that

Once they were there, the quarter-mile trek to their place had to be made. It was a small, circular clearing in the cone-bearing woods. The area around the fire pit was dirt, for safety reasons. On the outskirts of the copper-colored dirt were five large, round logs arranged in a circle for sitting. Just a few feet beyond the logs, the forest began again in copious amounts of vegetation and growth, like an untamed lion. That night’s weather was just right. The cool air was

“The sea and the sky are the same,” uncle always said. At the time he had laughed, but looking out that morning; the cold sea mist clinging to my clothes, I knew he was right.

I breathe in the warm air as I gaze out at my beautiful home. So wide I’m not even certain I’ve seen all it’s beauty that lies beneath. I can see the shadows of tiny fish swimming above the soft sand. They are so small they look as though they are microscopic. I reach down and run my hands through the wet substance that is so thick that my muscles grow tired the deeper my hand goes. As I lift my hand up, the sand makes a cloud of powder, slowly drifting through the water. The waters are so calm as though nothing could anger them. Each wave slowly rocking back and forth to the rhythm of the sea. I lower my fins beneath the water and a coolness rushes through me as I feel the cold, wet water. The soft breeze brushes against my skin with the scent of an indescribable satisfaction. Hours passed as the warmth of the sun seemed to just soak into my skin and relax my mind.

The ocean strokes land with calm and reassuring hands, lacing water with sand and lifting seashells in its wake. My heart urges me forward, to walk among the peace, to capture the sweet smell of sea salt. My brain reasons with the rest of my body. Turning sharply from the churning water I force my feet to leave the warm imprint they have grown to love

We went in through the sliding glass doors that give on the living room. I slid the door shut on its track and paused for another look out. The silver veil was three-quarters of the way across the lake. It had resolved itself into a crazily spinning teacup between the lowering black sky and the surface of the water, which had gone the color of lead streaked with white chrome. The lake had begun to look eerily like the ocean, with high waves rolling in and sending spume up from the docks and breakwaters. Out in the middle, big whitecaps were tossing their heads back and forth.

His arrival slices through the glassy calm of a West Coast night, confirming the bizarre contrast between the trail’s peacefulness and the night’s trauma. I see his shadow step out of the boat and meet my friend's; they shake hands, and I hear the questions begin. My friend Matt's voice is nervous as he tells the officer how we heard the gas alarm just a few hours ago, how we found a short-wave radio in the cabin and called the Coast Guard. Matt's voice fades as I run across the rocks towards the tent, praying that the darkness cloaks me, praying that the policeman forgets to interview me. I slip into the silence of my green cocoon-like sleeping bag, hug myself, feel for bones in my body to gain some sense of lying on the hard earth. If I touch the sharpness of my elbow, or rib, or chin to the rocks or roots beneath me, then I know that I am real and on the ground and that even without sleep I will walk through the next day; the earth will spin, the sun will rise, and the ocean waves will keep crashing.

We continued walking, nearing the car with every continuous footfall. After what seemed like ages, we finally passed it. No sooner than we reached the mailbox had the car inched forward, closing the gap between us. With that, I started to get worried. It was 9 o’clock at night, the radiant moon looming above us.

Edna was walking down the beach. She drew in a deep breath as a means of attempting to bring her surroundings back into focus. Soon enough the waves were no longer misty blurs and the sun no longer a hazy warm glow in a washed out gray sky. Everything looked more vibrant and full of life than ever before. The sky was a bouncing blue like the eyes of a playful child. The ocean shined brighter, as if the stars had been picked down from the heavens and submerged in to the water. The air lighter, softer, and more peaceful gently grazed and caressed Edna’s body, which also felt lighter, softer, and more at peace. She lied herself down in the sand that felt like plush velvet cushions, and with her mind clear and at ease, she drifted into an effortless sleep.

The sound of the emerald green ocean water crashing against the shores filled my ears. Children ran along the shore, smiling from ear to ear while laughing amongst each other clearly enjoying their day. Some people were searching contently for sea shells, that were visible for miles. I looked out at the ocean, it stretched out far into the horizon; as far as my eyes could see. There were jetty’s that were perfectly placed within the ocean. I could smell the salt radiating off of the water. I had been waiting for this moment for a long time; I dashed into the ocean I’d been waiting for for the past

The air was cold and windy. The beach was black, with small glossy pebbles, and shells. The shells on the beach where beautiful, shiny, and large bigger than my head. The water was gray with rocks that were big enough to climb on. The rocks held puddles of water with ocean life living in them. Small crabs where running over my feet as I sat on the rocks looking at the wave splash against it. A small trail going off of the beach, going to a

Just as the two vans arrived to the destination. The sound of the waves crashing to the shore made them anxious. They were all at awe by the huge waves rising three feet above the people on the bay. As soon as the vans came to a stop they immediately got out, took their bags, and ran to the sand. Everyone was in a happy mood. The sun shining above their heads, sand beneath their feet, and the sound of the waves gave them life. They all stacked their bags one on top the other and ran to the shore. They were just standing there, looking at the waves, soaking in the beautiful scenery. As time went by Olivia and Lily began to play volleyball while waiting for the others to swim. After a while more and more people joined in a circle hitting the ball to

I didn’t allow myself to think about anything at that moment. I just focused on my breathing, which seemed to be amplified in sound, as we slipped into the ocean’s cold abyss. I remember telling myself, “I can’t believe this is happening! This can’t be real!” Hearing the sound of the sea water rippling past my ear, as Chad and I approached Coral Garden, confirmed how very real it was. In the distance, I saw a spectrum of soft, inviting, colors of the secluded coral reef. Hues of peach, yellow, and rosewood coral looked like little castles built upon the sand in all shapes and sizes scattered throughout the ocean’s floor. As we got closer, I saw various schools of colored herbivore fishes greet one another as they fed among an antler coral, and the warm embracing rays of the sun tickled my body as I moved across the water, slightly beneath the surface of the calming ocean.