I’ll See Your Air And Raise You a Jetty


[Hampton Beach sure did rock my world. That pun was just embarrassing. Can I get my groove back already?]

Northeast air seduced me from the moment I stepped out of Logan Airport. There was a blunt and intense sensation hitting me almost immediately that I could not ignore. I… I could breathe. The air was positively intoxicating as opposed to the suffocating sauna-like air that radiates the South. Instead of dragging around choking on the heat, I was frolicking about in a humidity-free trance. I couldn’t help but wonder how I might bottle it up and bring it home with me.

Rarely have I experienced a place with days warm enough to sport a tank top and shorts and nights that require a sweater (fleece jacket in my case). I always watched films in which this phenomenon occurred. The actress runs wildly in a bikini during the day scenes, and come nightfall, is cozied up in a big long-sleeved poncho on a porch somewhere. It always confused me. Now, I had full understanding of the different weather outside of Louisiana’s inferno. It is safe to say I fell in love with this aspect of the North, and I also must say my hair was looking mighty lustrous minus all the frizz action.

The beach in New Hampshire, where we spent a day before storming the city of Boston, was unlike any beach I’d ever seen. The sand was not white, and the water was beyond arctic temperatures (compared to the gulf at least). Still, it was nothing short of a treat. I forced myself to fake courage and take a dip in the waves. I received weird looks from natives while attempting to cat call the seagulls. I tasted the Atlantic and could swear the water was saltier. Maybe everything is just more vivid when you are somewhere new.

Several times we walked the length of the beach with the water to our left, clams blowing bubbles at our heels below, and the touristy sidewalk shops to our right. They were charming, but admittedly, I have never seen so many t-shirts adorned with phrases like “YOLO” and “Call Me Maybe”. Sometimes I think it would be a good idea to ban words and phrases from apparel all together.

On one particular morning stroll, we arrived at a long jetty. Taking in the air like a drug, we tiptoed across the rocks of the jetty careful not to slip and felt for a brief moment in time like nothing else existed. The waves were crashing up against the jetty in a challenging manner as we scaled our way to the end. Okay, maybe we weren’t climbing the rocky mountains or bathing in the water of the Maldives, but we had found a certain serenity in our Hampton Beach jetty. I will never forget wading in that water or swimming in that air.

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About becca3416

Becca Cord is a twenty-something year old southern ballerina turned humor writer and video editor. Having lived in Louisiana her entire life, she is now perusing her travel dreams while starting her own free-lance Web Marketing business and organizing a nation wide blogging event, Blogger Interactive. She believes one of her callings is making people laugh, and she intends to do so. You can find Becca on her personal blog, Facebook page, or Twitter @becca25tofly.

Posted on July 27, 2012, in Adventures, Travel and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 14 Comments.

  1. bahaha, I grew up an hour from Hampton Beach. Nice to hear a perspective from someone not from the area. Hope NH / Boston treated you well.

  2. That pic is so cool….

  3. Don’t be ashamed of that pun – it rocked. I was boulder-ver. That’s not the kind of skill one should take for granite. etc. etc.

    On a serious note, I did enjoy you sentence ‘I forced myself to fake courage.’ What a lovely, emotive collection of words that is…

    Sea-based greetings from the Isles! Ahoy or something!

  4. I LOVE Hampton Beach. When I first went I was surprised by the cleanliness of the water… I’m used to LI Sound. Great post! 🙂

  5. I love the ocean 🙂 Oddly enough, the first time I ever saw it was in NH too!

    I love the way you right your posts. Part diary, part novel.


  6. I grew up on the Jersey shore. I then moved to Florida. I’ll trade the Florida air for the Rocky Jettys of the Northeast Beaches. My friends and I used to plan jetties. We were warned not to. There was always a tale of some kid somebody new somewhere it was a brother or cousin of somebody else, who’s foot got stuck in the jetties and the tide came in. Nonetheless when the tide was out we could actually go pretty deep down into the caverns of those large rocks. A few towns over with a town called Bradley Beach. That Mayor, Lenny Riley, actually procured a few old Naval vessels, and sunk them to create tiebreaks, artificial reefs, and something upon which to build a jetty. That image of the jetty reeks of my hometown, Belmar, New Jersey. Thank you.

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