Winter in Montauk, Long Island
When I think of the beach, I think of the summer sun beating down on me, a gentle breeze barely keeping me cool, seagulls flying overhead and palm trees swaying gently. Eating ice cream and drinking iced tea, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes and applying sunscreen before my skin reddens. But soon summer comes to an end, and the cold Northeastern winters creep upon me. The August crowds pack up their beach chairs and umbrellas, their sand toys and boogie boards. Leaves fall off trees, and the green hue of seagrass fades away.
The beach seems barren, and in many ways it is. However, if you trade a baseball cap for a woolen beanie, a swimsuit for a puffer jacket and sunburn for windburn, you’ll find that the beach holds just as much beauty in January as it does in July.
Though winters for me usually mean a visit to Florida, seeking sun and relaxation, COVID-19 forced me to forgo the former tradition. Instead, I opted for another beach, one that does not require swimsuits and sun hats: Montauk, Long Island, in New York. On my hike to the shoreline, I was taken by the desaturated landscape, ridden with trees and brush, and the saturated blue sky. This stark contrast allowed me to take in the sharp shapes of the branches against the bright sky.
While walking, I passed a World War Two bunker, now visible due to the leafless trees.
As I approached the beach, I was cautioned to keep back from the steep, unfenced cliffs that towered over the tide below. As much I yearned to watch the waves below, I kept on and continued safely down the hiking path.
As I descended down the cliffs toward the shore, the tide became visible. The waveless ocean lapped against the rocks. Despite its freezing temperature, the water kept its teal color, naturally juxtaposed by the beige sand and rocks on land.
When I finally reached the shoreline, the Montauk Point Light came into view. Although typically reminiscent of summer, the lighthouse now stood tall against the winter wind. For a second, the blue skies, ocean waves, and green grass made me forget it was winter, and from just a picture, no one would know that it was nearly freezing. Though I normally associate the relaxation of beach trips with sun-kissed skin and flip flops, not a care in the world and a book in my hand, this trip offered a different meaning of what it means to relax. As winds ripped against my face and the ocean crashed into the rocks on the shoreline, I felt powerless, as if one large gust could blow me away. However, I found this sentiment oddly comforting, evoking a certain sense of security in the harsh landscape and surroundings. And so, powerless I stood, staring up at the lighthouse, basking in the grandeur of the ocean as it collided with land.
