Hellshire Beach Clean Up

We taxied to Half Moon beach in a run down, red plate taxi. As the driver drove into the fishing village he expertly skirted large puddles and potholes. We climbed out and retrieved the gloves, trash bags and rakes dropped off by the Mayor. He’d been supportive of the cleanup efforts. A few volunteers from local businesses had come to help and some of the residents were busily raking the areas surrounding their respective, ramshackle restaurants. This tiny fishing village was Matt’s designated PC water and sanitation project.

Our mission today was not one of relaxation, we’d come to participate in the Coastal Conservancy’s Annual Global Beach Clean Up. Miles away in Duluth, Minnesota our daughter Sarah, an environmental educator was participating in a clean up along the shores of Lake Superior. The mutual activity made me feel closer to her, for we are kindred lovers of the natural world. I’ve always felt re-energized and at peace after spending a day immersed in nature.

The main beach area in front of the restaurants had been raked clean before our arrival. So we elected to tackle a rocky area that rimmed the shore. Matt and I glanced around and saw bottles, plastic bags, odd shoes and flip-flops, cans, cigarette boxes, bits of rope scattered wily- hilly amongst the rocks that lined the shore. Perhaps some of the debris had been washed ashore by violent waves during the last hurricane. I tried to convince myself of that fact, even though I’d witnessed firsthand the locals dropping whatever empty bottle or bag they were carrying along the sidewalks and grassy areas.

I’m not writing this to be self righteous. I’m writing to express my sadness at the local public’s conscious decision to litter. We were heartened when a man drove up in his large SUV, leaned out his window and stated: “Today is world coastal cleanup day, right?” “Yes, have you come to help us?” we asked. “Oh, no I’m here to motivate you,” he replied. “Well, we don’t need you to motivate us, we need your help.” “I’ve come to relax in the sun, it’s my day of rest”, was his insolent answer. Granted, he has every right to a day at the beach. It was his mocking attitude that angered us. An hour later, a young man walked over barefoot and said something unintelligle to us. He definitely looked rheumy eyed, but we decided a positive approach was in order. We asked him to repeat what he’d said. “Have you come to help us clean up?” He nodded, picked up three items then asked Matt for money. When we sternly declined his request, he stumbled back into the bar that he came from.

We knew then that the national littering fines touted on billboards and posters were largely a farce. No one enforced the law. Individuals would have to remind each other of the environmental impact and consequences. In our own neighborhood here we walked by smoking heaps of trash that people burned in front of their homes or on overgrown stretches of open land. Charred remains of items that wouldn’t burn were left behind. In spite of the fact, that the community already had regular, trash pick- ups once a week.

Matt and I had picked up 5 large [leaf bag size] bags of trash along a 50 foot stretch of rocks that bordered the Caribbean ocean. We decided to walk further up the beach where a group of local high school students were busily picking up litter. We were heartened by their youthful exuberance and how well organized the event was. Food and beverages were available beneath a tent. A scale was hung for weighing the trash and tally sheets were distributed to track the type of waste and quantities. The group was registered with the Ocean Conservancy global effort. We formally registered and joined their effort. A large heap of filled trash bags was visible proof of their combined efforts. The bags awaited later pickup by the city’s trash collectors.

It was a spectacular day by the ocean, the aquamarine waters glistened, the waves rolled in. We watched in amazement as magnificent birds with wings outstretched, dive bombed the water in search of fish. My attention was drawn to a lush, succulent creeping vine that covered the upper portion of the beach. Assorted bits of trash were interwoven amongst the vibrant pink, morning glory-like flowers. I tackled a small section, tediously pushing aside leaves to pick out bits and pieces of cast off objects. It made for slow picking, as the vines clung to the tossed items reluctant to release their hostages.

My aching back forced me to stop, long before my spirit was ready. I knew one day of clean up would only make a tiny dent in the heap of debris cast about. Yet, I was heartened to see the youth taking part in the clean up. I hoped that they would become stewards of their country’s beauty, in spite of its limited financial resources. It all starts with one person carrying out their trash to a designated trash bin or carrying out what they carried in. I’m betting on this country’s youth and their commitment to change.

Love to all,
Kare