Seaside Fourth

 

I "ooohed" at Kat's, "aaahhhed" at Robin's, and I knew I had to post my own:

Seaside, OR, is the ultimate pyrotechnic experience on the Fourth of July.

Walking down the beach with the dog on the evening of July 3rd, we kept passing men, grown men, with shovels, real shovels, waist-deep in pits they were digging in the sand.  We couldn't for the life of us figure out what was up with that...theorized that there must be some kind of professional sand-castle building contest happening on the Fourth.  Then we noticed that the pit-diggers were supplied with barbecue grills, cots, sleeping bags, ice chests...all the trappings of an overnight camp.  I thought...okay, you dig yourself a hole and sleep on the beach the night before the Big Day because.....??  Interesting tradition...

After our event on Monday, we went down for a walk on "The Prom," to experience the mob scene that is Seaside on a holiday.  The beach was pock-marked with these giant pits peopled with entire families; which were already--at 6 pm in full, broad daylight--spouting barrage after barrage of whistling, booming, crackling, smoking rockets.  Turning east through town, we strolled to Safeway to secure our dinner (a rotisserie chicken and corn on the cob) then walked back to the trailer to eat.  All the while accompanied by the constant din of fireworks--on the beach, over the river, in the streets...EVERYWHERE.

It was starting to get dark when we finished dinner, and I decided to take my camera and walk the few blocks down to the beach to see if I could get some decent shots.  I could not believe my eyes when I crested the little hill and beheld the scene on the waterfront.  Every bunker was spouting fireworks. Up and down the beach, as far as you could see (which was not all that far, because the pungent pall of gunpowder smoke clung to the sky like the stubbornest marine fog) dozens of private pyrotechnics shows were booming, sizzling, and screaming.  And these were not the paltry legal  fireworks that they sell at the roadside stands.  I have no idea where these folks were getting these rockets, and it boggles the mind to imagine how much they must have spent on them.  But there were parties of private citizens out there putting on better shows than the "official" 4th of July programs of most small towns across the country. 

I took my camera (and the already over 100 shots I had taken) back to the trailer to retrieve the husband.  "You have got to see this.  I've never seen anything like this in my entire life."  So we grabbed our little camp stools, staked out a place on the sand, and just sat, dumbfounded, for the next hour-plus, fearing to look too long in one direction lest we missed something spectacular going on the other way.  The noise and the smoke were unbelievable.  Some guy not thirty yards from us was setting off rockets that exploded literally right over our heads.  BIG ones.  I was scared spitless and completely captivated at the same time.

There WAS an official "Seaside 4th of July" display, set to simulcast music (which was not very good); the revellers politely interrupted their private shows to allow the community display center stage, then started up again without missing a beat as soon as the city had popped its last official  rocket.  They were going strong again as we made our way back to the trailer, and they partied on explosively for at least an hour after we went to bed.

The thought crossed my mind to go down to the beach this morning and take pictures of the aftermath.  I had visions of a scene that resembled the wake of some gigantic military invasion (minus the bodies.)  But we had an important date with post-holiday traffic for which we simply could not be late...