I arrived at Chincoteague before noon and wasted no time pedaling to the beach. The usual access trail was closed until three so I took the long way around.
No matter. It was a day for cycling — and shelling, sunning and walking on an almost-empty beach.
I strolled almost an hour north absorbing the sun, sand and sea, then turned south and made my back to the towel. The channeled whelks I collected filled a flimsy plastic bag and banged against my leg as I trudged along. I didn't pick up this item, though I did take its picture.
The shells themselves are in the car, making it oh so aromatic for the drive home.
But that's a couple days away. What I have now is a gift of time — and a place I love to spend it in.