And Now for Something Completely Different: Alchemy Stones

I am a life-long beach comber, picking up every manner of things on the beach from shells to sea glass to interesting rocks to driftwood.

Sea glass has fascinated me since I was a little kid-- I expect originally because it seemed like the closest thing I could get to "finding precious stones" in nature. Maybe that's the experience of many sea glass lovers-- it certainly makes sense, and is supported by the way many turn to making jewelry and art with sea glass, as if the pieces of glass-- indeed-- were precious stones.

Given that I beach comb more than 100 times per year, and that sea glass is my "love" and specialty, I have often been asked why I don't "do" something creative with the glass I find; why I just sell it or store it in jars on my windowsill. Truth be known, I haven't ever felt moved, in that particular direction. I greatly admire the creativity of others, but letting them create with the sea glass I find makes me feel perfectly content.

That is not to say that I don't feel "creatively inspired" by my beach combings. Photography-- particularly of sea glass, but also of nature and other beach combed objects-- is definitely part of how I find creative expression. However, for today's "something different," I wanted to share something I DO "create" from my love of beach combing: Alchemy Stones.

One of my first "Alchemy Stones." Very simple, not much detail

I have been "drawing patterns and snowflakes" since I was a little kid. In the early days, I used to do so with pencil or a fine tipped black pen on paper-- my mother eventually ended up with 100's of bookmarks in her cookbooks!

Many years passed before it was suggested to me that I should try to draw-- or paint-- my geometric patterns onto something else, as "art."

Sarah (my wife) and I have been collecting rocks since we were little kids, and it just seemed like a natural progression to try to paint on stone. Specifically, on beach pebbles.

It was definitely a learning process! My first attempts (now several years ago) were rather crude and simple and involved using a black "sharpie" to draw the design. I didn't realize the importance of only picking stones with exceptionally smooth and even surfaces-- but the delicate lines of most of the patterns simply don't "hold," if there's even the slightest "sand-papery" (or other) texture to the rock surface.

Several years later, the stones are painted with ceramic paint in many different colors, and the patterns are sealed under a multi-layer, weatherproof, super-hard clear finish.

A design from December 2013-- two-colored, and far more complex

The name "Alchemy Stones" came about because both Sarah and I are involved in the Consciousness, Self-development and Metaphysics communities... and decorated stones have been used in transformation and healing-- and as talismans and power objects-- since the beginning of human history.

Until the fall of 2013, I had never thought to "do" anything with these painted stones, except give them to family and friends... many of whom encouraged me to "take them to art & craft shows," or "sell them online."

Seemed like a reasonable enough idea-- at least it couldn't hurt to try. As part of our considering this proposition, Sarah decided we should "add something special," at least to a few of the most appealing stones. So, she put her textile art skills to work and started creating a series of unique "Treasure Bags" for some of the stones.

The Treasure Bags-- like the stones-- are not some "mass produced" thing... rather, they are individually made for each stone, often using fine vintage fabrics from Sarah's collection. So each bag ends up completely unique... and for the moment, only about one-quarter of the stones gets a bag. After all, they are quite labor intensive to make!

An Alchemy Stone with a Treasure Bag, made from vintage fabric

The thing about Alchemy Stones is that you have to "have them in your hand" to fully appreciate them. I'm a Synesthete, and the "experience" of the stones start with the fact that they have to feel right in your hand, before all else. If a stone has the "wrong" shape or texture, it never makes it home to be painted.

I find them in all different sizes and shapes, from tiny flat pebbles that might be turned into a necklace, to larger stones that could be used as a paperweight or simply to display as a piece of art.

So far, we have created a web site, and we also have an Alchemy Stone shop on Etsy, where you can find the stones for sale, in a wide range of prices from under $10 to as much as $75 for a particularly complex design with a special bag. All the stones include a small brochure we created, to explain how they came into being, and what they "are." We decided it was important that we share this story... and it also helps make them a lovely gift item.

But not to worry: Just because I now paint patterns on stones sometimes does not mean I am no longer going to be writing about-- and taking pictures of-- sea glass! However, I do hope you'll take a moment to have a look at "what I ALSO do."

Orange Sea Glass: The Slow "Extinction" of a Rare Color

Fall beach combing is always a bit of a mixed bag.

On the upside, fall means a couple of things, around here. One, "tourist season" is over, which means the pervasive "overpicking" of our local beaches slowly tapers off. Two, the season winds start picking up again after the doldrums of summer, and occasionally we get a good storm or two which will churn up something more than the top couple of inches on the beach. These are good things, for the sea glass hunter.

On the downside, low tides now occur mostly at "awkward" times-- like 4 o'clock in the morning, when it's pitch black outside. The "windows of opportunity" for the sea glass hunter become smaller and shorter every day, and will continue to shrink until the beginning of the new year.

A couple of days ago, we had a brilliant sunny autumn day, so I decided to "get out there" (for the first time in a couple of months) and take advantage of a retreating tide towards sunset.

As I wandered and started spotting a few pieces of sea glass, I became quite aware of the "truth" of something sea glass enthusiasts often say and hear: That sea glass is a "vanishing treasure." I wrote an article about this recently, but this beach walk really underscored the truth of this statement, particularly as it applies to the rarer colors.

For some years now, I have been blessed to live in a place where there was a nice volume of variety of sea glass-- including rare colors. What I notice most-- as the years roll by-- is the relative absence of anything "rare," these days.

Of course, orange has never been anything but a rare color. It is generally regarded as the single rarest color in sea glass collecting-- although this depends somewhat on who you ask-- and many collectors will beach comb for a lifetime and never find a piece. I've been fortunate to live in a place where I used to be able to find maybe 6-8 pieces of genuine orange sea glass per year.

But that was "then" and this is "now." Orange sea glass-- as well as other "rare" colors-- seems to have become all but "extinct."

As I got towards the end of my beach walk-- after about four hours-- what I noticed was that my bag contained a fair amount of clear, brown and green glass, with a scattering of seafoam... and very little else.

When this little nugget (it's only about 3/8" or 10mm long) suddenly caught the late afternoon sun, it was a very exciting moment. But it also made me realize just how long it had been since I'd found a piece of orange sea glass. And where were the other rare colors? I found no red, no teal, no yellow, no pink, no purple.

Sea glass IS a "vanishing treasure" because we pick it up... and none of it-- especially in "odd" colors-- is being replaced. To the small degree we use commercially produced glass objects, they are rarely made "in colors." These days, we mostly use plastics for such things... glass is reserved for things we can make in "huge volumes." Aside from which, environmental regulations keep most glass off our beaches, so it never really has the opportunity to become sea glass, in the first place.

I feel grateful that I have had the opportunity to be a sea glass collector for so many years... years that happened before it became "too late."

Hiatus

It has been a while, since I have posted here.

I have been "on hiatus" from doing much with sea glass and beach combing. April was pretty much "eaten up" by travel and doing "family things." In May, I spent a lot of my time focusing on my writing business (which is one of my "day jobs") which has been suffering somewhat from a "lack of attention," for several years. Subsequently, I spent several weeks restructuring my rare postage stamp business (my other "day job"), in large part due to some of the changes and new rules taking place at eBay.

A pile of red seaglass-- bright, but all pieces are quite tiny 

Being able to work from home for a living is a blessing in the sense that I love not having to "go" to work, and I get to work with things that interest me, and I can do so on my terms. On the downside, if you don't "keep your eyes on the ball" at all times, it's easy to allow things to get neglected and fall behind... especially when you have-- as I do-- multiple "micro businesses." My point being that whereas I would love to just "play with sea glass" all the time, I really can't afford to. Finding "balance" in terms of the time I get to spend with each of my interests is an ongoing challenge-- and has been, since I took to full-time self-employment back in 1999.

Over the last couple of years, I have also become increasingly aware of just how much sea glass truly is a "shrinking resource." The fact that there is less and less to be found hasn't diminished my love of the beach, but it has decreased the volume I am able to offer the rest of the world as a seller. I have been collecting since I was a "wee pup" so these days I do sell most of what I find-- I only save maybe a handful of exceptional and unusual pieces for my personal collection, out of each 1,000 pieces I pick up.

This fall, I am hoping to do "something" with my photographic "library" of sea glass. Over the years, I've amassed some 50,000 high quality digital images of sea glass, and I am considering turning some of the best ones into frameable or framed prints, maybe greeting cards, possibly even a picture book of sorts. I'm a bit of a stickler for quality, so this is only going to happen if I can determine that I can come up with something "truly special" for the world's sea glass enthusiasts. This is just personal opinion, of course, but there is just too much mediocrity in our world...

In the meantime, I've been sorting some of my "old bins" of sea glass, and hope to get both the eBay and Etsy sea glass stores "re-stocked" in the course of this month.

Hope everyone had a great spring, and looking forward to a beautiful summer!

Article: The Zen of Beach Combing

I am a writer, by profession... and although most of my writing appears in publications in the spiritual, metaphysics and self-help fields, from time to time I also write about some of my passions in life such as beach combing and sea glass collecting.

Recently, I wrote an article on an independent web site-- basically exploring my life-long attraction to the ocean, being at the sea side and beach combing. It was basically a pictorial personal essay entitled "The Zen of Beach Combing-- A Lifelong Passion." 

Somewhat to my surprise, the article won several awards from the (general interest) site where it's published-- including being featured on the front page for several days, where it got seen and read by thousands of people. I suppose it says something that the article was ranked among the 500 most read on a site hosting almost five million articles...

I invite you to go have a look-- I imagine quite a few beach combing fans will be able to relate to my experience. If nothing else, there are some pretty "beachy" photos to look at!

In the future, I plan to write additional articles about beach combing and sea glass. 

Storms aren't always a good thing...

I went beach combing, yesterday.

We've been having some pretty stormy weather during the past few days, so I was feeling very hopeful that it was going to be a good day on the beach. Storms bring big waves, and big waves tend to "turn over" the sand, pebbles and rocks, bringing new material to the surface.

Sadly, it was not such a good day-- which just just illustrates what I wrote a few weeks ago "You never know what you're going to get," when it comes to beach combing.

Evidently, quite a few other people had the same idea as I, about the winds potentially making for a good day. I normally walk the 3.5 miles to my favorite spot in quiet contemplation-- it's my meditation. On this day, I was shaken out of my reverie several times as groups of "very determined looking" people with bags and buckets almost seemed to "fly" by me.

It made me feel some... unrest.

Truth be known, I really don't mind sharing the beach with other enthusiasts. What I mind is a certain kind of "energy" that goes with people who clearly have an "intensely important mission" on the beach... and seem to turn the gentle pastime of  beach combing into something that resembles a "competitive sport." To me, that defeats the entire purpose... and somehow takes away from the quiet beauty I enjoy so much. Sure, I can honor that we all have different objectives... but I just find the demeanor and mindset a little "disturbing."

In spite of the above, I still completed my usual walk and even though my pockets were pretty empty of treasures, I did "pick up" some good for topics I want to write about, in the coming weeks.

"Show and Tell" for Adults

Keeping a beach combing and sea glass blog is an interesting proposition. After all... what do you write about, aside from going to the beach, and then sharing pictures of the things you find?

As I sat here contemplating "what to write about," I realized how much beach combing-- and particularly the process of sharing our experiences as sea glass enthusiasts-- basically amounts to "show and tell for adults." Which is not to disregard the fact that there are also kids and teens who beach comb.

But think about it: We go treasure hunting, find stuff, take pictures of it... and then post it to our blogs, Internet groups and more.

Of course, I feel far more enthusiastic about this type of show and tell than I ever did about those projects back in grade school. I guess my dislike of those had to do largely with the fact that what I got to "show" was rarely anything of my choice, but instead some fixed assignment I had little to no interest in.

I like the fact that so much sea glass has a "story." Take, for example, this large piece of green sea glass in the picture. It's so much more than just "green sea glass." This particular blue-green shade is quite uncommon-- it accounts for less than 1-in-100 pieces of "green" I find. Typically, it comes from very old wine bottles, many from the early 1900's. I sometimes call this color "deep grayish teal green." Finding pieces in perfect condition is difficult-- the manufacturing methods were often crude and the glass poorly annealed (the slow cooling process for glass), as a result of which most large pieces tend to "shear" if they bang into something like a rock... OR there are inclusions and bubbles in the glass, leading to an uneven surface.

So, to the casual observer, that may look like "just another piece of glass." However, to someone who has collected for a lifetime? This 1 1/2" long piece with perfect frosting IS a minor rarity.

And so... worthy of "show and tell."

Life Is Like a Box Of Chocolates

Sometimes beach combing reminds me of that well known line from the movie "Forrest Gump:"

Life is like a box of chocolates... you never know what you're gonna get.

I have walked along the same stretches of beach 100s of times, and yet I never know what I'm going to get. The beach can look exactly the same as last time, the weather can be the same, the time of the year can be the same... and yet? On one day I return home with bulging pockets, on the the other I'm lucky to find a tiny handful of sea glass.

And then I wait three days, and it's different, yet again.

I went out, yesterday, hoping to find a few more things before the end of the month. It seemed like it was going to be a really good day... and yet it turned out to be one of those "empty pockets" days.

Perhaps not entirely empty, but nothing unusual to write home about. Perhaps the most unusual thing I cam back with was the clear and green "fusion" in the picture. Clearly, this was a piece of "bonfire glass," yet is was as smooth and perfect as any piece of single color seaglass-- no little dark inclusions, no popped bubbles, no striations from the fire. And so, that became my "treasure of the day."

In the end, though, I was grateful that I got to be out and about.

A Day at the Beach: January 16th

When nice weather presents itself in January, you just have to seize the opportunity! Most January days around here mean rain and cold (and occasional snow) so we prize dry sunny days. Of course, there's no telling whether such days are going to fall on a day where the tide is decent... but sometimes you get lucky.

We are slowly moving towards a time of the year when there are a few short periods with lower tides during daylight hours. This is also the time of the year when we have "King tides," which are extremely high... and when such tides are accompanied by strong onshore winds, we often see some pretty severe coastal erosion... and seaside parking lots getting swamped by waves.

The ocean is very powerful, and in this part of the world, we do get a lot of loose floating logs. And when I say "logs," that can often mean a tree trunk some three feet in diameter and 50 feet long. Even though these can weigh in at tens of thousands of pounds, it's amazing how even something as relatively minor as 5-foot waves can toss them around and deposit them 50 foot inland, in the middle of a parking lot... like they were no more than match sticks. I have seen our parking lot after a good storm and wondered at how 200lb boulders had gotten moved as far as they had.

The beach can be fairly treacherous, at this time of the year. When you have to traverse fallen trees and boulders from the size of soccer balls to the size of your average kitchen stove (see photo, above), going is slow... most people are lucky to make about one mile in an hour; and when you have several miles to go, it quickly becomes a tedious and potentially ankle-twisting adventure. When the rocks are wet-- or covered with seaweed-- you have to be especially cautious. As many times as I have been across such rocky ground, I consider myself fortunate to have "escaped" with no more than a few wet feet.

I often have to simply resign myself to going slowly... but that's OK, as it gives me plenty of time to enjoy my surroundings and say hello to the other creatures with whom I share space, such as this otter who quickly scurried across my path, jumped into the water, and then regarded me cautiously as it swam by. It dove a couple of times, then disappeared.

I beach comb in a place where there is pretty much "nothing to be found" for at least a couple of miles. And I never know what I am going to find. I could spend a couple of hours "getting there," only to discover a beach covered in six-inch boulders... or covered with a 6-inch layer of seaweed, making the glass impossible to spot. There's no way to "check in advance," so I just have to make a commitment and go... and whatever will be, will be.

It was about 45 minutes before I found even the first sign of sea glass. I don't normally pick up brown sea glass, but this was an impressively large and smooth piece, so I decided to keep it.

Perhaps a bit like baseball players, I'm a bit superstitious. I have this nagging belief that it's bad luck not to pick up the first piece of glass I see...

As the years have gone by, I have gotten more and more particular about what I pick up, and what I leave behind.

Other than particularly interesting-- or outstanding size/quality-- pieces, I almost never pick up clear or brown glass anymore. That said, I usually do come home with a fair amount of clear, simply because a lot of interesting "objects" were made with clear glass-- bottles and bottle stoppers, handles and feet from candy dishes, door knobs and drawer pulls-- and many of them are worthy of collecting.

However, I am most particular about the quality of the glass-- anything with fresh chips, breaks or other damage goes back into the ocean... and hopefully I will find it again, many years from now, when it has fully "cooked." I see no point in saving "broken" glass.

It always disappoints me when I see out-of-town visitors around here, who insist on picking up absolutely everything they can get their hands on. Because our surf can be rough-- and there are lots of larger rocks-- the vast majority of sea glass on our beaches has some form of damage. I probably pick up no more than 1-in-8 of the pieces of glass I see... the rest I leave behind for some day when they will be "ready." To me that's not only good "beach combing etiquette," it's common sense.

This turned out to be one of my best winter beach combing days in a very long time. I found three quite nice pieces of red glass, which was definitely cause for celebration. I also found a few other pieces in "better" colors: Yellow, pink, turquoise and some rarer shades of green.

Part way through the afternoon, it occurred to me that the nice glass on the beach was probably more a result of the recent very high tides, than the current lows... some of the "old" pebbles had finally been beaten around by the waves, revealing things that probably had been "hiding" since last January's "king tides."

One of my favorite things about this time of the year is that there are not many people on the beach-- and this day was no exception; I saw maybe five other people, the entire afternoon.

And when there are few people, there tends to be more wildlife. Much of the afternoon, I was watched over by a couple of eagles, looking at the world from the trees on the high bluffs behind me. Although the eagles around here are pretty used to humans, many of them stay hidden when the beach is crowded.

Besides, beach combing is really a "meditation" for me, so I prefer solitude.

Of course, not everything I pick up is sea glass. Along the way, there are always interesting rocks, sea shells and other objects of interest.

One of my very best finds of the day was actually not even sea glass but the large (at least for this part of the world) golden agate I found, late in the day-- shown in the picture below. I would not have spotted it, had it not been a sunny day and late in the day when the sun is very low... but it lit up like a bright orange-yellow golf ball in the late afternoon sun. I am not sure what to "do" with the agates I find, but they are very pretty, and remind me of the pieces of amber we'd sometimes find on the beaches in Denmark, when I was a kid. And much like some of those pieces of amber, this golf ball sized agate had a dark "moss like" inclusion.

By the end of the day, I had found quite "a lot" of sea glass, but it was noteworthy-- once again-- how the "rare colors" are getting ever rarer with each year that passes. Many of them start as fairly small pieces of glass, so it only makes sense that the small pieces will be the first to be completely worn away by waves and sand.

It will be a couple of weeks before I can go back to the beach, as we enter another period of only high tides during the day... the end of January and early February bring the next set of lower tides during daylight hours. In the meantime, there is lots of sorting to be done.

In a sense, the timing of the tides works out well for this month, as the rest of this week will mostly be spent with photography and prep work for the upcoming sea glass auction.

As much as I enjoy walking on the beach and finding glass and pottery... I also find it rewarding to "play with my glass" after I get home-- to see just exactly what my frozen fingers picked up. On the more unusual items, I enjoy the detective work of trying to guess what the piece originally might have been part of.

I also enjoy sending glass to other sea glass enthusiasts and artists all around the world. I like the idea that things I find on the beach become part of "objects of beauty" other people get to enjoy. In the course of the last couple of decades, I have sent sea glass as far away as Australia and New Zealand, Japan and Argentina, as well as numerous countries around Europe. I love how the Internet has helped bring the global sea glass enthusiast community together.

First Beach Day of 2013!

Yesterday marked my first day to get out on the beach in the new year. Winter beach combing tends to be tricky as the days are short, the weather often horrible and the "good" low tides occur after dark.

Thursday marked the first day within a very short "window of opportunity" where I could get "out there" and back during daylight hours. Even so, it tends to be a mad dash (aka an almost 4-mile "racewalk") to get where I need to go, followed by brief beach combing, followed by another racewalk in the fading light, back to where I started.

Thankfully, it was a clear sunny day, which not only made the outing more pleasant... but added a good 20-30 minutes to the amount of available daylight. It was also on the cold side-- that white stuff in the photo is a thin layer of ice/snow from the previous day.

The beach where I generally beach comb is backed by a tall escarpment on the "land" side. Unlike many waterfront area, these sometimes 400-foot tall banks are not cliffs (aka "rock") but compacted clay and sand, deposited there by glaciers during the last ice age. It's odd to think that the beach where I now walk once upon a time had an estimated 3000 feet of ice on top of it.

These slopes are not exactly the most stable landscape on the planet, especially during the time of the year where it often rains, freezes and thaws... over and over. Slides are frequent, and can sometimes completely block the way for weeks, until a good storm spreads the debris. Since this is not a "maintained" beach, nature simply has to take its course.

Indeed, I encountered a fairly new slide; this one fairly "minor" (comparatively speaking) and partly washed away by winter storms. "Minor" is perhaps a relative term-- meaning only about 5,000 tons of clay and sand came down, as opposed to 100,000 tons for a major collapse. I've experienced one of these "erosion events" up close and personal (from a few hundred feet away) and it sounds like a freight train coming at you as the slope gives way and a blend of clay, sand and rocks throws around 75-foot trees like match sticks. The beach truly is "alive."

These slides are not a good thing for the sea glass hunter. Not so much because they are dangerous, but because the layer containing recent garbage (and sea glass) ends up being covered by a 3-foot thick layer of "virgin" sand from thousands of years ago... and it will take years of storms and waves before the sand is moved and mixed enough for the sea glass to surface, once again.

Resigned to finding little, I instead took time to enjoy my surroundings-- a superb view of Mt. Baker on a clear day, wearing a thick coat of fresh snow.

Although it seldom snows significantly here at sea level, we are surrounded by snow covered mountains, many of them with white caps all year long. It makes for spectacular surroundings-- and I often have to remind myself to look UP from the beach and take in the beauty that surrounds me. It's easy to get completely wrapped up in the business of looking for little pieces of glass!

Lots of ducks spend the winter here or pass through on their migratory path.

I don't know the names of them all, but sometimes the shallows are literally covered with thousands and thousands of birds. Although most are distinctly "northern" birds, I have also seen a few flocks of brown pelicans fly by.

Fortunately, not all the beach was covered with new sand, so my fears of returning empty-handed were unfounded. I managed to get in just under two hours in one of my favorite spots... and even though the pickings were somewhat slim, I did manage to come away with a few interesting and colorful treasures.

Unfortunately "overpicking" continues to be an issue around these parts-- however, there is not much one can do about that, given the increasing awareness and popularity of sea glass. I just wish people would develop some better "beach combing etiquette" and at least throw back the obviously damaged pieces so they can finish "cooking," and be enjoyed by future generations of beach combers.

All in all, though, I was grateful to be back on the beach-- for the first time since late October. I came home with a few nice pieces (the best pictured at left) and had a lovely walk on a gorgeous winter day. I am looking forward to the next opportunity to get out on a day with "decent" tides, which is going to come around later this month.

Till then, I hope your beach combing endeavors go well, wherever you may be. Happy New Year!

The Mixed Blessings of Fall

The days are growing markedly shorter, as fall rolls ever closer. The shadows at mid-day are growing longer, and the light is growing more golden. Even the trees and plants are getting that slightly yellowed "late-in-the-year" look to them.

The Autumnal Equinox (when day and night are exactly the same length, and "Fall" officially begins) happens in a couple of days, on September 22nd.

In the microcosm that is beach combing around here, the arrival of fall is a mixed blessing.

On one hand, it means that the tides are slowly "turning," towards a point where the "good" low tides that make for the best beach combing opportunities... well, they will happen at "anti-social" hours, or in the middle of the night. More and more, there will be just a few-- very short-- worthwhile days to get out.

On the other hand, the stillness of summer is slowly giving way to breezier days. During the summers, the bays and straits along our beaches are often as calm as a mill pond. High winds are unusual, if not outright rare. The tides come in; the tides go out... barely stirring the "landscape" of the beach.

For a sea glass hunter, that means we've (basically) been picking through the same 4" top layer of sand and pebbles for months. And after a while-- in part thanks to the heavy influx of tourists during the summer-- there is almost nothing to be found; very little glass that's worthy of being brought home.

As fall arrives, the winds start to pick up again as the weather changes, and soon there will be autumn storms. This is good news! It means that the beach will get "churned up" again, and glass that has been previously hidden, a couple of feet down, will be brought to the surface.

Of course, nothing can overcome the "natural breakdown" that occurs all the time. Sea Glass is, for sure, a "Diminishing Resource," since we no longer throw things away randomly... and most of our containers are now made of plastic. With each year that passes, there is less and less glass to be found.

So far, 2012 has been a very "lean" year... but I remain hopeful that there will still be good things to be found, as fall rolls in!

The Simple Joy of "Finding Things"

People sometimes ask exactly how I got involved with finding little pieces of glass on the beach. After all, even though sea glass has become quite popular and well-known in recent years, it's still a somewhat "esoteric" pastime, compared to things like collecting sea shells or rocks.

I got to thinking about this question in some depth and reflected on the words I wrote in my June 1st update about my childhood and the long days of summer. Then I came to the conclusion that I have enjoyed "finding things" since I was quite small. Not just sea glass. And it seems to be one of those things in life for which which I evidently have a "natural talent" of sorts.

Although my interest in sea glass dates to my childhood, there were many other things I spent time "finding," when I was young-- and I still do.

Chanterelle mushrooms

During the summers of my childhood in Denmark, we'd often go spend the weekend at my aunt's house in the country. And one of the favorite outings (from late July and onwards) would be going to a nearby forest to find chanterelle mushrooms. For a five-year old, I evidently had a remarkable capacity to not only stay focused for several hours, but to actually find these golden treasures on the forest floor. It often mystified the adults who'd been collecting for 50 years, who would find fewer mushrooms than I.

One of my other hobbies-- which eventually turned into my "day job"-- is collecting stamps. Again... especially if you're trying to make money at it... this is a pastime that revolves around finding something. In the case of stamps, finding something other people may have overlooked.

I'm also really good at finding treasures at flea markets, finding lost keys, and even finding places in cities when other people are lost.

Unlike many sea glass enthusiasts-- who collect sea glass in order to use it in some way, or display it in some fashion-- I really don't inherently possess much talent in the realm of "creativity." Sure, I could probably "make something" with the sea glass I find, but odds are I'd need someone else's design to look at and "copy," in order to produce anything worthwhile. Whereas I really enjoy the aesthetics of creativity, I have approximately zero ability to visualize something original in my head, "out of thin air."

And so, I find sea glass for the simple joy of finding.

Which led me to the answer to something else people often ask me: "I just don't understand how you can not KEEP all your beautiful sea glass!?!?!" Truthfully? Once I've found it, held it and enjoyed that process-- along with the zen-like "meditation" that a 6-hour walk along the beach represents for me-- I have very little attachment to "owning" the glass. With very few exceptions, one piece of cobalt blue sea glass is pretty much like any other.

In fact, it actually fills me with more happiness to know that someone artistic is finding joy in creating something beautiful with my glass, rather than just having it sit in glass jars (pretty, I do admit!) collecting dust on my windowsill.

That said, I do have a fairly large personal collection of seaglass, assembled over the past 40+ years. And I still do add to that collection. But, on average, I probably "save" two pieces for every hundred I find-- which means there is quite a lot I end up selling on eBay and Etsy.

The Long Days of Summer

What I have always liked about summer is the long days.

These days I live in a part of the world that has widely swinging tides, so now I don't just enjoy the long days, but I enjoy the fact that summer allows me to go to the beach pretty much any day I feel like it. June is a "beach friendly" month because the low tide points usually occur sometime during daylight hours, rather than in the middle of the night, as they do in January.

It makes me realize that I am more of a "spontaneous" beach comber than a "planned" one. Back in December, I would look at the tide charts and know that I only had a few short "windows of opportunity" on a few days out of the month... and my choice was "go then, or don't go at all."

Now that it is June, I could technically speaking go every day. Alas, my "old bones" wouldn't stand up to that... even if my heart and soul was in it.

When it comes to sea glass, May and June tend to be my months to "stock up for winter," a bit like a squirrel. Since I do sell some sea glass-- and many artists have their "big season" over the Christmas holidays-- I have to put a good part of the glass I find now "away," so I have something to offer, come November.

When I was a kid, I had the perseverance to walk on the beach and "focus" for many hours at a time... unlike many of my friends who would "grow bored" after ten minutes. Looking for sea glass, shells, interesting rocks, feathers and other things has been a lifelong interest of mine. If there is one I thing that has remained constant in my 50-odd years of life, it is a passion for "finding things." It's not a passion that's limited to the beach, however, as I look for everything from lost keys to four-leaf clovers to mushrooms in the forest to esoteric research items on the Internet. For my "day job" I sell rare old postage stamps to collectors. How do I come about them? I FIND them in large piles and boxes of unsorted common stamps.

The Aboriginal tribes in Australia believe that every single person in the world has at least ONE thing they are really good at. I was never much good at things like "football" or "building a career" or "public speaking." However, I AM really good at "finding things" and feel blessed that I have been able to craft a life that allows me to make a living (of sorts) from "finding" things.

Five Years

It occurred to me, earlier today, that it has been five years since I started this blog. Well, five years and a few days.

Although I have been a "blogger" since 1996 (blogs didn't actually exist until 1999, but I kept an online journal on a web site-- a LOT of work, without blogging software!), the North Beach Treasures blog was my first attempt at keeping a "micro niche" blog about an interest/hobby. The closest, otherwise, has been my stamp collecting blog-- but there are millions and millions of stamp collectors, and hundreds of thousands of different stamps to highlight and write about.

Not so with sea glass and beach combing.

I have found it challenging, because there's only so much to write about. I've learned that there are limitations, here. Once I've written ONE post about "red sea glass," that's pretty much it... and it makes no sense to write another. Only so much can be said about beach combing, in general.

Indeed, part of my motivation in originally starting this blog was to use it to announce when I had sea glass for sale, that jewelers and artists might be interested in. That said, I really didn't want the blog to be "sales oriented" in nature... but more collector/collecting oriented. Informative, rather than commercial.

I've learned that my fellow beach combers do enjoy looking at pictures of "recent finds." I can relate to that, as I also enjoy looking at other people's finds. So I have at least one kind of "subject matter" I can repeat over and over-- happy it also is a popular one!

I expect I would have more to write about, if I were an artisan or jeweler. But I only collect sea glass for the sake of "collecting sea glass." Selling some of it has become a nice "fringe benefit," and it makes me happy to know that my glass ends up being part of "items of beauty" that other people get to enjoy. That's a lot better (in my eyes) than just having it sit in jars on my window sill.

What's ahead? More of the above, I suppose. I do enjoy writing, and sharing things from my beach trips. For me, a large part of the joy of collecting (ANYthing!) involves the "social aspect" of connecting with others who have similar interests.

Remember to Look UP!

As much as I enjoy "finding things" on the beach, beach combing is really a form of meditation to me.

It's easy to get so focused on what's on the beach, and what I am finding, that I forget all about everything else... including the fact that I am there to "get some downtime in." I am by nature (no pun intended) a bit of a "nature nerd," and I have always found that being outdoors is one of the best ways for me to recharge my batteries, especially when life seems hectic and stressful.

It's also a simple truth that beach combing involves a lot of "looking down." After all, if we're to find stuff, we have to look at what's underfoot. The "danger" is that I tend to become so focused on "finding" that I forget to enjoy all the natural beauty around me... things I will only see when I look up. Not mention, of course, that there's the real danger of running onto an overhead branch from a fallen tree! I've done that. More than once.

So, today's "advice" to beach combers is this: Remember to look UP, from time to time.

Because I enjoy nature photography, I sometimes bring along my camera as a "reminder" to look up and see things other than sea glass. There is SO much beauty around us. It would be a shame to miss it all, just because we are always looking down!

A Winter Day on the Beach

In the wintertime, I take my beach combing opportunities when they come. As they say, "beggars can't be choosers," and during January the days with low tides during daylight hours are few and far between. Yesterday was one of those rare days, and it even turned out to be a fairly clear day-- although pretty "frosty."

Bright teal green

Now, to say that a day is "good" for beach combing during January had to be taken with a grain of salt. What it actually means is that I get to leave the house around 12:30, make a mad dash down the beach (about 3.5 miles/5.5km) while the tide is still quite high, in order to spend a couple of hours at my favorite beach combing spot... before it gets too dark and I have to make for home, again.

It's nice when these January outings happen to come on a clear day, as it affords me at least an extra 45 minutes of daylight. On a rainy day-- or even a day with heavy cloud cover-- it gets too dark to see what I am doing quite early. I know some people beach comb with a flashlight, but I have just never had much success with that.

It turned out to be a quite rewarding outing, even though I had my doubts, for a while.

The beach presents an ever-changing landscape, around here. Frequent storms and tides that fluctuate up to 12 feet between minimum and maximum means that rocks and sand constantly get moved around. On my walk out, I found myself having to traverse slippery soccer ball sized rocks, most of the way... and there was a thick layer of washed up seaweed in places-- the result of recent storms. Large rocks and seaweed are a combination that rarely bodes well, when your objective is to find sea glass.

Fortunately, as I got closer to one of the areas where I usually find some glass, some sandy patches started showing between the piles of large rocks. As the tide receded, a long thin line of sand and gravel stretched out before me... and I knew it was going to be a good day!

As most beach combers know, every day has it's own "character." Yesterday was a "lots of glass but few rarities" sort of day. Had I been interested in doing so, I could probably have picked up five pounds of clear and brown sea glass. Which, to most people's way of thinking (including mine!) is a LOT of sea glass. However-- aside from very unusual or perfect pieces-- I am really not very interested in the "common" colors, anymore.

Nugget of Amberina orange/red, as found yesterday

It was not until the very end of my day that a couple of lovely pieces found their way to me: A very BRIGHT and perfect nugget of red and orange "Amberina" glass-- a considerable rarity-- caught the dying rays of the sun and lit up like a little beacon. I tried to take a picture of it, but the effect was impossible to photograph. And just five minutes later, I found a beautiful nugget of vibrant blue-green glass (pictured at top)-- a shade of teal I very rarely come across.

And then it was time to head home, in the murk of a winter evening.

It felt good to be out there... and I felt pleased that this first outing of 2012 turned out as well as it did. I then paused to remind myself that as much as I enjoy finding sea glass, walking on the beach has always been "a meditation" for me. I'd still be "out there," even if there were no sea glass. However, the sea glass does offer a nice incentive!

Wintry Mix...

There's not much beach combing around here... during the month of November.

I decided to brave the elements because I wanted to see what had washed up after recent storms, and today offered one of the few tiny windows of opportunity for a beach trip... with a slight dip in the tide level starting around 2:30pm... and continuing till dark, which occurs about 4:30 these days.

It has become rather wintry in the Northwest, over the past couple of weeks. Amazing fall foliage has given way to bare trees, cold rain and high winds. As I made may way to the parking lot by the beach, I didn't realize that it had also snowed a bit, overnight.

There are a lot of "microclimates" at the end of our peninsula. I have often seen it be completely dry at our house, only to find a day of pouring rain-- or snow-- in town, less than three miles away. Today it seemed like the central ridge got 1-2 inches of snow, while nowhere else did.

Being the weekend, there were lots of cars in the parking lot. However, I expect most of them belonged to people taking their dogs to the adjacent state park.

The tide was still very high as I set out-- only a narrow band of large rocks separated me from the waves... and it made going very slow. I think of this as an "ankle breaker" beach, and I did not look forward to making a 3.5 mile trek along that type of footing. And things did not improve. After about 15 minutes of slow going, I realized that the storms had not only "rearranged" the beach... but had also beaten the offshore kelp forests to bits, and now I found myself waking on large rocks covered with a six inch layer of slippery seaweed.

This didn't bode well for my day. Even if the retreating tide were to leave behind a decent expanse of beach, a thick layer of seaweed makes it all but impossible to get to any washed-up treasures. The fact that I was probably the only one beach combing today offered little consolation.

A large vibrant deep turquoise glass bead

Fortunately, my favorite stretch of beach-- which it took me almost two hours to reach-- was not entirely covered by seaweed. Sadly, though, the long time it had taken me to get there also meant that I had less than 90 minutes before I started to lose the light.

As the light fades, the darker colors become invisible first, and eventually the only thing you can make out are the clear pieces, which look a bit like moonstones in the semi-darkness. One exception to this is the fairly rare "vaseline glass," a pale lime green which seems almost "illuminated from within," in low light.

In the end, the findings of the day were fairly modest-- the storms had not turned up large volumes of new treasure, and I'm beginning to think that maybe this piece of beach has simply been "picked clean," largely as a result of the repeated "exposure" from newspaper articles. A "secret" doesn't remain a secret for very long if everyone knows about it-- if you know what I mean.

A few highlights of the day included a large bright turquoise oval bead (pictured above) in perfect condition-- with the hole intact and free of sand-- a nice find, and in a rare color. I also found a nice aquamarine "cat's eye" glass marble, a larger piece of pastel yellow (the only "rare" colored piece of the day) and a large (about 1 1/2" long) clear "egg" piece. I can only speculate as to its origins-- perhaps a finial or "knop" from some kind of glass serving dish? It was perfectly symmetrical, and in lovely frosted condition. Who says clear sea glass can't be interesting?!?!

The remainder of the day's finding were quite "ordinary" and now await sorting, at some future date. I had hoped to find more large pieces-- often the case after a storm-- but most pieces I saw were quite small, and uncommon colors were few and far between. There also seems to be a lot of damaged/chipped pieces-- which I always throw back, so they can "cook fully."

Of course, there is more to beach combing than merely "finding sea glass." I go for the exercise and fresh air, as well as for the cathartic and meditative qualities of being on the beach for several hours. As I turned around to head back home (around 4:00pm), I was treated to a beautiful winter sunset, and the sound of bald eagles in the treetops, settling in for the night.

It was quite dark by the time I made it back to the parking lot at 5:45. The last half hour was very slow going, not only because my legs were tired, but because the footing on softball sized rocks covered in wet seaweed-- in the dark-- was treacherous.

This will probably be the last (and only!) time I get to beach comb, this month. The tide/daylight combination is about at its most unfavorable for beach combing, at the moment. There will be a very small window of opportunity again at the beginning of December... and unless the weather is absolutely horrible, I will be out there, looking to sea what new treasures the ocean has washed up!

First Beach Trip of Fall

Beach combing in the fall is seldom easy. I thought I'd share a bit of a "log" of today's outing, to explain a bit more what I mean by this time of the year being the "least friendly" time of the year to gather sea glass, around here.

Bright green marble from today's trip

I've been wanting to go on a beach combing trip, ever since the first couple of "good blows" have come through. During the summer, we ("we" being the regular beach combers around here and hundreds of tourists) sift through whatever can be found in the top couple of inches of material on the beach. Most days here are still, and there is very little wave action to churn up rocks and sand. As we approach mid-September, the pickings become extremely slim, as we all continue to look for "treasure" on an extremely overpicked beach.

Then-- by late September or early October-- the weather breaks. And for the first time in probably four months, the beach is pounded by some serious waves... serious enough that the entire topography of the beach changes, and sand, pebbles and glass that have been buried two feet deep are brought to the surface.

Alas, October also means that low tide occurs at 5:00 in the morning, when it's pitch black outside. So... what's a beach comber to do?

The alarm rings at 5:00am. I make coffee, and get myself ready to go. Outside, the sky is heavy with low clouds, but the rain of last night seems to have abated. Still, I'm not counting on a dry day.

At 5:50am, I'm out the door. Five minutes later, I'm at the parking lot by the beach. It is still completely dark.

Beach combing is almost a "competitive sport" around these parts. As I walk across the parking lot, I see a car that has just pulled up and a couple of people with flashlights are getting ready for their day. There's another car already parked, and I wonder if it was left overnight-- but a quick touch of the hood, which is warm, tells me it was driven recently. Whomever it belongs to is already out there, ahead of me. At 5:50 in the morning...

A good day at the beach!

It's about a four mile walk across rocky uneven terrain, loose rocks up to the size of basketballs and piles of seaweed to just get to "the good bits" where I like to beach comb. For most people, that means a two hour trek... in broad daylight, in favorable conditions. In darkness...

... I make it in about 50 minutes, and thank my background as a former competitive distance runner and sometime race walker for being able to move fast. A few times I almost lose my footing, skidding on seaweed on wet rocks; not seeing a log; bumping into a boulder in the darkness. About two-thirds of the way out, I pass the fellow with the "other car" in the parking lot... one of the "usual suspects" on this stretch of beach.

The tide is already on its way in. It will only be a dark gray pre-dawn by the time I reach my favorite stretch of beach... and I will have to turn around within just a couple of hours and almost run the four miles back in order to not get caught by the rising tide. There is no "land access" from the beach I go to; no place where you can "park the car above" and hike to... only a vertical wall of banks, some 200-400 feet high... so keeping an eye on tides and time is essential for safety's sake. Sure, there are places where you can wait out a high tide (and I have done that) but sitting for six hours on a cold wet rock is not my idea of how to spend a Thursday evening.

In low light, clear is the first color you can see. Other colors require full daylight before they gradually become visible. By about 7:45, it is finally daylight and I can begin searching in earnest. It looks like it will be a good day! Not only does the beach have a nice cover of pea-sized gravel mixed with small rocks, it is very clear that the recent storms have turned over the "stale" leftovers of summer... I can tell because the scattering of small mostly chipped pieces of glass I've been looking at for the past couple of months have been replaced with more smooth-- and larger-- pieces of sea glass. And that makes this mad-dash-out-and-home a worthwhile endeavor.

A large and thick nugget of red-- find of the day!

I never stop moving, because time is scant. The glass is good, although it turns out to be one of those days where I seem to find a lot, but no "great rarities." The best finds of the day are four sea glass marbles-- on most days I'd be fortunate to fine one or two-- and an exceptional "nugget" of bright red. Whereas I do find red seaglass, the pieces are usually fairly small and thin-- this piece is larger (about 7/8" long) and quite thick and rounded, like a large jellybean or gum drop. I wonder what it was once part of, since red was rarely used for objects that required "a lot of glass." Art glass, perhaps?

In the end, I get in just over two hours of fairly intense beach combing before the tide reaches a point where I--reluctantly-- have to leave. Not a moment too soon... I make it back to the parking lot with dry feet... just. There have been a number of major slides in the past year, and in some places I have to climb over fallen trees and large piles of ancient clay.

I once wore a GPS device, while going beach combing. On a day like today-- counting the hikes in and out, as well as all the criss-crossing that goes with beach combing-- I probably covered about 13-14 miles (21-22km) in total. Tired legs are the order of the remainder of the afternoon. On the whole, it's not the distance that's exhausting, but the extensive traversing piles of gravel (a bit like walking in deep snow) or soccer ball sized rocks covered with fresh wet seaweed (incredibly slippery) that takes it out of my legs.

From here until mid-December, the tides here will only get "shorter." In another month or so, there will barely be a couple of hours of semi-low tide during daylight hours.

Waning Tides of Fall

It seems almost funny, to be speaking of fall, already.

It's September 15th, and we hardly had any summer in the Northwest, this year. A little bit of dry weather and sunshine started in August, and seemed to run out a few days ago.

A large shard of milk glass from a recent trip

Fall is the least "friendly" season for beach combers around here, at least as far as favorable tides go. As we progress towards October and November, low tide opportunities during daylight hours become few and far between. This is not only due to the shorter days and the (eventual) arrival of Daylight Saving time... but also due to the moon's annual migration in our skies.

Just like the best tides-- in terms of low tides during the day-- occur in late spring and very early summer, so the worst tides occur in late fall. Typically, November beach combing involves a mad dash down the high water line at a couple of hours before sunset, to enjoy maybe 90 minutes where the water level drops slightly... followed by an hour long trudge home in darkness.

Of course, this assumes beaches like the ones I frequent, where it takes up to 90 minutes to even get to the "good spots."

Still, I don't let it put me off. Being on the beach is a form of therapy and meditation for me, even when time is short. And-- of course-- the waning tides of fall just represent the turning of the year... and serves as a reminder that there will be longer days ahead. By the end of January, it will once again be possible to spend a couple of hours at my favorite spots...

When the Beach Gets Picked Over

The nice thing about beach combing in the summer is that the weather is typically nice-- even here in the Pacific Northwest. The not-so-nice thing is that the beaches around here are frequented considerably by the tourist trade, and by mid-August (where we are now) the beach is pretty picked over. Add to that that it has been months and months since there last was a good storm to churn things up, and you end up with long trips to the beach yielding not very impressive results.

Sea Glass marbles from today's beach trip

Today, we spent 6 1/2 hours out there, trudging some 12 miles, all in all. Apart from three fairly nice marbles (better than "usual"), there was really not much to write home about.

It always gives me a bit of a sinking feeling to go to the beach and have a day like this one. It makes me think of the way genuine sea glass is a "dwindling resource," and I wonder whether the winter storms will really "refresh" the beach, this coming year-- or "has it all been found," already? Of course, I have wondered that for years and years...

I did manage to pick up a pretty stout sunburn on the back of my neck-- sleeping will be less than comfortable tonight! Reminds me a bit of my childhood-- my parents were eternal "sun chasers" and I had very fair skin (still do) that would burn to a crisp. So they would be out in the sun on some tropical beach, baking, while I'd sit-- fully clothed and sweating-- under the nearest shade tree I could find.

I expect I will not be going a lot onto the beach till late fall. Since we will be moving in September, I will have other things to occupy my time. Still, if I can squeeze in a few shorter trips I will-- since walking on the beach largely serves as a meditation for me.

Two Years Later

It has been a couple of years since Memorial Day 2009.

I remember that day because it was the first major holiday weekend following a large article in the Seattle Times about sea glass. Of course, I had no objections to an article about sea glass... I just had objections to a couple of people's decisions to openly disclose the best beaches on which to look for sea glass to the newspaper readership in a metro area with some 3 1/2 million people.

Those who so openly shared this information should have known better, although I suspect they simply did so in service of being "open and forthcoming" about our wonderful hobby... but forgetting the possible impact of their words.

I could also blame the reporter for writing about the way "people make money on eBay" from selling sea glass... but people of the press are generally about telling the story and rarely possess the ethical fibre necessary to think through to the lasting impact of their words. The typical argument is that "today's paper will line tomorrow's bird cage." Whereas I personally see that as an "abdication of accountability," I don't care to get into a deeper philosophical debate about it.

I was interviewed for that same article, but I very carefully chose to speak only of sea glass and its origins... and in spite of being "prodded," staunchly declined to share where I'd found anything. I ran a retail business for 13 years... I've dealt with the press, in the past.

Any resource that is "overharvested" (be it the clear cutting of old-growth forests, strip mining or telling millions of people where to find sea glass) suffers lasting damage, and we ALL lose.

Two years have passed.

The crowds that descended on the beach-- in large numbers-- during that summer (and to a lesser degree for another 18 months) have mostly disappeared.

Sadly, so has most of the sea glass.

Of course, there is still glass there, but I'd estimate about a quarter the amount that used to be there. The rare colors seem more affected; the common browns and clears are still there... although a higher proportion are chipped-- the "common rejects" that were thrown back.

I definitely still enjoy my walks on the beach, but makes me a little sad. I know for a fact that this particular stretch of beach was frequented by collectors since the 1960's, and all was well, for almost 50 years. Then, in less than two years, the "resource" was decimated.

What makes me sad is less the lack of glass to be found, than the manifestation of human greed.