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Little Bobber Saw a sign: Bathing 800 Meters. After cycling down the root-infested sandy path for about five-hundred meters the path came to a wooden walkway. Sharon walked the rest of the way down and then reported back it was sand all the way to the water. And no shade. It was still broiling in Sweden. The sky was cerulean without a single cloud in the transparent sky. We pulled out our food and ate under the pine trees. Several persons passed; few looked at us or uttered "Hi." I mentioned how quiet and reserved the Swedes were. After lunch, while Arran and I read, Rebecca and Sharon went down to the ocean for a swim. "Coming?" Sharon asked. "Only if it's a nude beach," I glibly replied. "Well, if it is, I'm not coming back to get you," Sharon snorted, as she and Rebecca moseyed off down the trail. Sharon and Rebecca came back a while later all smiles and refreshed from the "just right" water temperature. A guy walked by, returning to the parking lot. "See that guy?" Sharon asked. "The one in his undies?" I giggled. "Well, he didn't even have undies on down there." It was a nude beach! No wonder the people had kept their eyes down as they passed us. Sharon and Rebecca had been looking for the toilet. They came over a sand dune and there, spread eagled, was a guy in all his glory. They went over another dune and bumped into another spread eagled guy. I asked if they said, "Excuse me, Sir. Is that pointing in the direction of the washroom?" Didn't they feel ridiculous being the only ones wearing clothes? They permitted they felt somewhat overdressed for the occasion. The funniest thing they saw was one guy walking along the beach wearing a tee shirt... and nothing else. Sharon admitted that caused one to really focus on the little bobber. |
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