Last Sunday I put my watch on.

Now, this probably shouldn’t have been a big deal. After all, I wear a watch on a pretty regular basis. It’s part of being a grownup.

But this time, the act of putting on my watch was a bittersweet moment. I hadn’t had it on for almost a week. That’s because I was at the beach.

One of the great Zen masters was asked by a student, “Master, what is the secret of happiness?” The wise man replied simply, “When you are hungry, eat. When you are tired, sleep.” The story doesn’t say whether they were at the beach at the time, but I wouldn’t bet against it.

At the beach, it really doesn’t matter all that much what time it is. That’s why, for years, the first thing I do once we get to the rented beach house, or condo, or hotel room, is take my watch off. After that, I’m on beach time. Beach time is where, when someone asks you “Hey, what time is it?” you reply “Tuesday. I think,” and reach for the cooler.

Now, this whole concept may seem foreign to some of you. To some of you, the whole point of a vacation is to get out and do something, preferably something strenuous. Take a long bike trip. Climb something tall. That’s fine. You’re probably mountain people.

Someone once said that there are two types of people in the world: people who divide people into two types of people and people who don’t. I guess I’ll always be the first type, because I think you can definitely tell a lot about people by whether they prefer the mountains or the beach for their vacations. Some examples:

–– Mountain people are on the move: up the trail, down the slope, across the rock face. Beach people have to be reminded to turn over periodically so that the sunburn is evenly distributed. When they do move, beach people prefer an aimless ramble along the shore rather than a brisk hike up a steep slope.

–– Mountain people are into gear: backpacks, boots, bikes, skis, etc. Beach people tend to regard shirts and shoes as an imposition.

–– Mountain people love the breathtaking vistas of peaks and valleys. The peaks and valleys that appeal to beach people are covered (barely) by Lycra and Spandex.

Mountain people experiment to get the right ratio of nuts to raisins in the trail mix. Beach people argue over the perfect Margarita recipe.

–– Mountain people like freshly caught trout grilled over an open campfire. Beach people like shrimp broiled in butter or deep fried, especially in Calabash, N.C. (aka Arteriosclerosis-by-the-Sea). And don’t forget the hushpuppies.

–– Mountain people are exhilarated by the smell of clean, crisp air. Beach people get all misty-eyed at the scent of Hawaiian Tropic or Banana Boat.

–– Mountain people throw logs on blazing fires. Beach people rub aloe vera on blazing sunburns.

I don’t want to give the impression that all beach people are lethargic slugs. There are plenty of active folks at the beach: sailing, surfing, bicycling, etc. I look upon those folks with a sort of tolerant fondness, so long as they keep moving and stay out of my sunlight.

But all good things must come to an end. So when the time came to go home, it was time to strap the watch back on, load the beach chairs and boogie boards into the SUV and head back inland. We took away with us fond memories, as well as enough sand to restock the hazards on every golf course in Pinehurst.

We also learned a few things. A beach trip is almost always a learning experience. The sea, as Jacques Cousteau once pointed out, has many lessons to teach us. For instance:

Waterproof sunblock isn’t. If you don’t reapply it when you get out of the water, your tan begins to look weird. Sort of a tiger-striped look.

Weather forecasting is not a science, it’s an art. And I mean art in the sense of totally made up stuff with little or no practical application. This is especially true at the beach. If I had paid attention to the Weather Channel, which was predicting every form of dire weather except big rocks falling from the sky, I never would have gotten out of bed. As it was, I actually managed to get mildly sunburned. (See above.)