Bone Yard | 11:19AM Sep 23, 2007
As I admitted in yesterday’s post, there are in fact the remnants of a wooden ship hidden in the sand beneath Higgins Beach.
I came across this decrepit vessel while simply strolling along the waters edge. Its skeleton pierced the sand and water, reaching toward the afternoon sky. The beams that once supported the weight of this mighty hull now sit rotting in the outgoing tide.
The night was lovely to begin with, the setting sun setting the sky aglow in vibrant oranges and pinks. This historic relic, however, provided a perfect foreground for this magnificent scene.
Amongst the decomposing frame of this once glorious construction, I watched as Apollo’s Chariot guided the sun on its journey into the night. Seeing this piece of history appear right before my eyes was a miraculous thing, an event that truly allows one to see things in perspective.
Standing there in the approaching twilight, how can one not think of the men who built this ship? Putting their blood and sweat, hearts and souls into the very framework of this ocean vessel. The men who swabbed and meticulously maintained the very same planks that have long since been swallowed by the sea, and most importantly ponder how this once triumphant piece of marine architecture came to be stranded here, at this very spot.
Oftentimes it is the questions which go unanswered, that provide the most satisfaction.
I came across this decrepit vessel while simply strolling along the waters edge. Its skeleton pierced the sand and water, reaching toward the afternoon sky. The beams that once supported the weight of this mighty hull now sit rotting in the outgoing tide.
The night was lovely to begin with, the setting sun setting the sky aglow in vibrant oranges and pinks. This historic relic, however, provided a perfect foreground for this magnificent scene.
Amongst the decomposing frame of this once glorious construction, I watched as Apollo’s Chariot guided the sun on its journey into the night. Seeing this piece of history appear right before my eyes was a miraculous thing, an event that truly allows one to see things in perspective.
Standing there in the approaching twilight, how can one not think of the men who built this ship? Putting their blood and sweat, hearts and souls into the very framework of this ocean vessel. The men who swabbed and meticulously maintained the very same planks that have long since been swallowed by the sea, and most importantly ponder how this once triumphant piece of marine architecture came to be stranded here, at this very spot.
Oftentimes it is the questions which go unanswered, that provide the most satisfaction.
