Real Sand

My three children are spoiled, growing up surrounded by Puget Sound beaches that are just a five minute drive or 20 minute bike ride away. Exploring low tide, building driftwood forts, and collecting sea glass are commonday childhood activities in our corner of the city. But there is one thing that our rocky beaches don’t have.

“You’re going to love this beach,” I told the kids as we drove towards the trailhead for Second Beach in Olympic National Park. “It has real sand.”

The trees started to thin as we started the final descent out of the forest towards the beach, giving us our first glimpse of Second Beach. The Pacific sparkled in the afternoon sun, majestic sea stacks rising from the vast expanse of sapphire water. When we finally reached the bottom, we stepped past driftwood logs and onto the wide stretch of white sand. Real sand.

All three kids squealed with delight, kicked off their shoes, and went running across the sand toward the surf. I unlaced my hiking boots, peeled off my socks, and sunk my toes into the warm, fine sand as a smile spread across my face.

Nothing feels like summer as much as real sand.