Week 7: The Rock

     First, a disclaimer. Despite the title, my memoir will not be about the actor/wrestler Dwayne Johnson. Sorry to disappoint, but if it’s any consolation, I would write about him if I’d ever met him. No, instead my post is about an actual rock. Or, in this particular case, I suppose boulder would be the more accurate term.

     When I was a child and all the way through my teenage years, my parents would take me on a 2 week trip up north, during the summer. They both worked for GM. As anyone who is familiar with those who work for one of the auto companies can tell you, every summer, the production plants shutdown for a little over a week to retool for the new model year. So my parents took almost all of their time off and saved it for this time. Every year we would go to a town called Elk Rapids. It was a quaint little town, or at least it used to be, and it was always a very peaceful time for me. We would go to the beach almost everyday, so long as it wasn’t raining. My Mom preferred to be mostly to ourselves and so we would set up at the farthest end of the beach. This is where my story begins.

This is not the exact spot but it’s quite close

     There were never many people in this area because, although it was beautiful, the water was very rocky on this end of the beach. When I was about 7 or 8, my parents first let me go off far into the water on my own. We had recently found these mesh shoes that had hard rubber soles, so you could walk on the rocks without it being too painful. So on this particular trip, I went further out into the water than I ever had before. It was incredible. I was actually far enough out to swim for once instead of wade.

     Eventually, when it seemed that I was half a mile from the shore, I came upon this huge rock that I had never encountered before. It was massive. So big in fact, that even though I was deep enough to be able to swim comfortably, I could climb the rock and nearly be out of the water entirely. It was a mottled orange, red, black and brown boulder. It was quite out of place, being so much larger than any of the other rocks anywhere around it. If you had told me at the time that it had been placed there, I probably would’ve believed you. Nobody else came out to this area. It was either too rocky for them or they just couldn’t be bothered. Seeing that it wasn’t claimed by anyone else, I therefore decided that the boulder was mine. I couldn’t move it and claim it officially, but I was pretty certain that no one else could either. My reign went unchallenged. I was king of the rock.

     Over the years, I met other kids at the beach. We would all play together and hang out, but I never brought anyone else to the rock. It was my thing. The place where I would go if the other kids weren’t around. The rock seemed to prefer it that way too. I almost never saw anyone out at it. The one time I did, it didn’t end well. Another kid was playing by the rock and tripped. He fell and cut his chin and knees on the rock. Needless to say, he was not allowed out near the rock again after that. I never had any problems like that out there. It was as if the rock was allowing me to be there with it. Sure, I bumped my knees a few times. Other than some scrapes though, I never got hurt. I would spend hours sitting on the rock in the sun, jumping off of it into the water. The most fun days to be out there were when the waves were high.

     I don’t know if you’ve ever swam for a long time in wavy water but you get a workout quickly. On those days, there was hardly anyone at the beach. I loved those times. I would spend the whole day fighting the current. I would get so used to it that when I tried to go to sleep that night, I could still feel the waves hitting my body. It was an odd but rather pleasant sensation.

     When I got older, we continued to go to the beach, although less often than before. The magic of the boulder and the water had warn off for me. Reality finally set in. What had seemed like half a mile from the shore, was in reality less than 100 yards. The water wasn’t deep enough for me to swim in anymore. The boulder that had seemed so impressive, was now just a big rock. If I looked further to the right of the rock, I could see some of its brethren. Some of which, were even larger. The fairy dust had settled and I could see reality for what it was. This wasn’t necessarily the end of my innocence, but that day, another door to my childhood shut for good.

     I haven’t been to this place in years. Writing this makes me want to drive there immediately, though I doubt I’d be doing any swimming right now if I did. As I write, I can still see the beach. How could I not? It’s been etched into my memory. I can still see the break wall, the road, the shady tree up near the parking area. Most of all though, I can see my old orange friend, peaking out at me through the waves. Beckoning me to come join. One day I will go back. And one day I’ll climb that rock once more.