In the summer, they are hot and windy. In the winter, they are cold and windy. They are covered with sand; it sticks to you when you are wet or sweaty, both apparent objectives of being there. There is nothing to do but sit or go into the ocean. Did you see “Jaws”?
In old movies, beaches were full of beautiful girls wearing very little, but with the fattening of America, those girls are not much in evidence. There is not a flagstick or a green in sight; the whole place is a bunker.
My thoughts on beaches may possibly be influenced by my Midwestern background, where it was a two-hour drive to the nearest sizeable lake, let alone ocean, but I don’t think so. I think it is simple logic.
As any environmentalist will tell you, beaches were meant for seagulls, clams and starfish, not for condos and steakhouses. (Steakhouses on a beach?) Beaches are where hurricanes meet civilization. We learned the outcome last year.
The reason for this little rant, is that we’ve just returned from three days in Myrtle Beach. Well, actually North Myrtle Beach, but I can’t see any difference.
Why would a beachophobe visit a beach? To meet friends.
Fourteen years ago, the wife and I hooked up with two other couples on an Alaskan cruise. We have managed to stay in touch over the years, and last weekend one of the couples, from Calgary, no less, rented a condo in NMB and we had a reunion. The other couple now lives in Florida.
I admit, NMB would not have been my choice of locales for this event; in fact, we lobbied for Pinehurst, but the condo was already rented, and the Calgary folks are real take-charge types, so there we were.
The companionship was excellent, and wine flowed freely. We rehashed our long-ago trip, caught up on events since, and learned and debated Canada’s views of its southern neighbor. I have to say, however, that all this bonhomie occurred despite, and not as a result of, our presence in NMB. I had been primed by knowledgeable folks not to expect too much of NMB, and I was not disappointed. If you are a big fan of the area, you might want to move right along to Dusty’s column.
The Myrtle Beach complex (including NMB) is basically a 20-mile strip mall running behind 20 miles of beach condos, all just waiting for the next hurricane.
I don’t know what this real estate costs, but I suppose it must be pretty expensive. I will never understand why anyone would pay the price and put up with the overdevelopment and crowds to suffer the previously mentioned unpleasantness at the beach, but obviously, they do.
Of course, Myrtle Beach has reinvented itself as a golf mecca, so all this housing serves a double purpose. Maybe that is why there is so much of it.
I don’t mean to pick on Myrtle Beach particularly; extensive swaths of the entire coastline, from Maine to Brownsville, look a lot like it, or did, before Katrina arrived. The environmentalists have this one right; most of this stuff should never have been built. Not only has it disrupted ecological systems, not only is it ugly, but also it is hopelessly vulnerable to hurricanes.
Coastal governments really ought to put a stop to construction right now, before it gets worse, but this is not so easily done. Property owners have rights, and it is too late to change them arbitrarily, at least without fair compensation. Litigation, anyone? If new construction is limited, existing buildings will become even more costly, limiting access to the wealthy amid cries of unfairness.
To be fair, these beach areas are no more tacky than many inland tourist destinations, but they are more dense because of the desire to cluster along the shoreline, and they are subject to hurricanes. They are also more damaging to the environment.
It is too late for easy answers, but all you have to do is look at it to realize that it is a very unfortunate situation.
Hindsight is always 20-20, as they say, and it’s always easier to prevent problems than it is to solve them. At least I can do my part by not going back.
Notwithstanding NMB’s lack of charm, we had a great time, and I’m proud to say I never set foot on the sand, except for a couple of bunkers visited during the outdoor-before-cocktails play period. Still, even the bunkers are nicer here, and a better place to be than at the beach.
Fred Wolferman lives in Southern Pines. Contact him by e-mail at fwolferman@sbcglobal. net.
