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The tide was low as we arrived. Consequently the edge of the ocean was a long way from the crowd and the dry sand of the beach. It appeared that there were just as many people at the water in the distance as were lying on the sand or walking in between the two. A stiff breeze was driving the water, reminiscent of Hawaii, though with much smaller breakers coming in.
Tony was delighted. We soon found out that the water was much colder than it ever gets in Hawaii. Tony said that he didn't mind the cold.
He was delighted with everything, the people, the atmosphere, the uncomplicated freedom, and the ease of getting ready for swimming. He loved everything, even the cold water.
The size of the crowd was substantially larger than the one I had encountered in Leipzig. Still, I noticed the same feeling of unity there. One girl told us that almost 25,000 people come to this beach, "mind you, not all at once," she added and smiled.
Another thing that Tony found delightful was the food that was served at the beach. One had a choice of Mexican food, Thai food, sandwiches, submarines, hotdogs, cake, fruit cocktail, fruit punch, wine, a half a dozen different kinds of beer, soft drinks, and even cider. The only thing one couldn't get was coffee and champagne. Also, there was entertainment. If one didn't feel like swimming, one could play volleyball. And if one liked music, there were several guitarists at the beach whose soft melodies were carried thinly over the sand, but far enough to reach a small circle of listeners.
"What I find remarkable about what is happening here," said Tony to me, "is that this entire huge happening is against the law in Canada. The law prohibits nudity in public places, but here it is happening in a big way and no one is interfering."
"Ah, coming to this beach must be worth the risk of breaking the law," I said to Tony.
"The twenty-five thousand people who come here can't all be perverted, lawless maniacs," Tony replied.
At any rate, it was good being there. We stayed until after sunset. We could hardly find our way back up the trail in the dark. Of course, since we had 'dined' at the beach, there was no need to look for a restaurant on the way back to the airfield.
Throughout the next four days, Tony and I went to the beach every evening after the show. On the last day Tony found out that the Air Force team didn't need him in Seattle where the next stop of the tour was to be. He told me that the F-15 had been sold to Canada. It was left behind to be replaced by a new model. This meant that there was nothing for him to do in Seattle. The new plane would be flown by the manufacturer's test pilot, himself an air show veteran. Tony told me that this change in schedule had come as a surprise to him. He said that he was pleased though about the way things had worked out. The change in shedule gave us another three days for what we had come for.
We started early each morning during those last days and talked to as many people as we could, on every subject that came to mind. The beach was an ideal place for this. It had all the appearances of being an international meeting place. We met a college teacher from Chicago, a girl from England, a man from South Africa. Tony discovered two ex Air Force B-52 pilots in conversation about Guam. They spoke of shark infested beaches, hair-raising experiences with KC-135 tankers, and boring hauls into Nam, except for the nightmares afterwards when they found out through the grape vine what their bombing had done to the people into whose lives the bombs had been dropped.
We also met a metal sculptor. His friends called him Jason. By appearance he was the reincarnation of Van Gogh, except for the ears. He had refrained from emotional surgery.
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