It barely qualifies as a day at the beach. But the two hours that I spent at Fort Tilden on Tuesday achieved their purpose, which was to help me beat the heat wave that has enveloped the city.
The temperature at the former U.S. Army installation that’s now part of the Gateway National Recreation Area was about 7 degrees lower than temperatures here in Manhattan.
The water registered 77 degrees, which feels body temperature on a day like today. I bobbed twice in the swells for about 15 minutes at a time. About 50 feet away, a pair of lifeguards in red trunks, one male, one female, perched atop a chair eight feet high, their legs stretched out in the sun.
Between trips to the water, I snacked from a Ziploc of shelled peanuts that I had packed, and read an article in The New Yorker about the evolution of civic and private power in San Francisco across three generations of the author’s family.
On the drive to the ocean, I was reminded that traffic here in New York — even during the middle of a weekday — is a force to reckon with. On the drive home, my skin cool and salty, my t-shirt smelling like the ocean, I barely minded.
Upon arriving at Fort Tilden, I took a few wrong turns to the beach. Of course, I could feel the ocean from where I stood. It was just beyond the scrubby trees. But in the three years since I last visited the fort, the National Park Service had closed some paths and opened others.
I found my way thanks to a retiree from Amsterdam who pushed a bicycle (right?!) and pointed to a path where all one had to do was to turn right.
As we walked, she asked me what I thought of a suggestion by a friend of hers, an American who she said had retired to Spain. He asked if he could use her U.S. address as his own for purposes of claiming Social Security. She said she had some concerns about that, as she receives Social Security, too.
I suggested she trust her instinct.. We thanked each other, and each went our way.