By Louie Ferrera

The serendipity of a beach structure always makes me smile. I can see the spontaneity in its design, the helter skelter randomness in the way the various materials were used to construct it. There may have been a conscious effort on behalf of the builders to come to the beach and erect it, but most likely it was created on a whim. “Here’s all this flotsam and jetsam stretched out along the high tide line, we have the waves and the wind and the shorebirds as our audience, the sand is our canvas. Let’s build something.” When our kids were little, building a structure was usually a part of any day at the beach. It was always a spur of the moment decision though, based upon the materials at hand. Our creations were never too elaborate or very sturdy but they were ours. When completed, we’d step back and admire them with pride.

I love the ephemeral nature of  beach structures, they’re not meant to last. No matter how solid you think the construction is, winter storms, high tides and wind will eventually dismantle it and carry the pieces out to sea, back from where they came. Typically a beach structure is some type of shelter; a lean-to or three walled construction open in front with a crude roof. I’ve seen everything from simple benches to wildly improvisational sculptures that seem to have been well thought out and assembled by visual artists or engineers. Mostly though I believe these structures are simply spontaneous creations inspired by the freedom and beauty of a windswept beach.

The materials found in a beach structure vary wildly, they can’t be bought at Home Depot. The basis of anything created at the beach is wood: scraps of lumber, broken palettes, tree branches and tree trunks; wood so bleached and weathered it’s impossible to discern its origin. Of course there are styrofoam floats, rope, plastic bottles and buckets, feathers, fishing poles, animal bones, long strands of bull kelp, shells. The list goes on. My favorite object was an old metal ammunition box which I found beside a crudely constructed hut. Inside was a journal filled with poetry and prose; heartfelt musings on life, love and nature. I added my own thoughts, sealed the box and went on my way. A year later I returned to find only a smattering of driftwood where the hut had once stood. Maybe that box is out there bobbing like a message in a bottle somewhere in the vast blue Pacific. Perhaps it will someday be discovered, the reader of that journal wondering where it came from and about the lives of the people who wrote in it.

The beach at Abbott’s Lagoon in the northern part of Point Reyes National Seashore is an especially dreamy stretch of coastline. This is a wild and enchanting place where the beach stretches on as far as the eye can see. It’s also my favorite place to discover unique and unusual structures. Over the years Abbott’s has been a special place for me and my family. We’ve spent many hours here beach combing and building structures. Our kids are in their late teens now and not so apt to spend a day at the beach with mom and dad so Carol and I headed there last week as a duo.

The day was warm and cloudless. Under a dome of endless blue we strolled the beach, filling our lungs with cool, crisp air and reveling in the freedom of the day. Snowy plovers chased by the incoming surf skittered along, their tiny beaks probing the sand for morsels. Gulls wheeled above. Typically the surf here is huge with sets of waves thundering in without a break. But on this day the ocean behaved more like a bay with smaller waves and more time between sets. A short ways down the beach we happened upon an interesting complex of structures, the central one being a solidly built wooden tipi about seven feet tall with a large opening in front. The inside was spacious enough to fit four people comfortably. Various pieces of driftwood were scattered around the outside looking like an otherworldly art installation. A wooden round three feet in diameter sat in the sand like the prefect table for two. Behind the tipi were two ingeniously constructed throne-like chairs. The base of each chair was a circular metal crab trap, the backs various lengths of driftwood, the seats a sturdy combination of worn lumber. These whimsical creations were surprisingly well built. I could imaging King Neptune himself perched atop one of these thrones, presiding over the beach. 

Creating a structure of our own wasn’t in the cards for us today so Carol and I walked on, the promise of new discoveries, human made and otherwise, stretched out before us.