Freque Factory - Spring Break at the Beach House

Freque Factory

Spring Break at the Beach House

Since this coming Sunday is Palm Sunday (and since I drove by the site of this set of adventures last weekend), I decided to take a break before starting to talk about my time at LWT.  This set of adventures takes place while I was in high school.

   When I was a sophomore in high school I found out that my senior Girl Scout troop had a tradition.  Every year, during our spring break, we would use a beach house on the coast north of Ventura, CA.  The beach house was actually owned by a church group, but one of the girls (a year older) had a father who was a minister and that was how we got to use it.  We had to be, well, Girl Scouts while we were there.  No misbehavior, which included sex, alcohol, and drugs.  We also had to keep the place clean as well.  But it did mean that our group had the use of a lovely multi story home in a small beach community.  And by beach house, I mean we walked from the back patio right on to the sand.  It was wonderful.

   For some reason, Monique couldn't come with me that first year.  The car I was riding in for some reason turned out to be the last one up there.  Since I didn't have best friends (like most of the girls a year older) saving bed space for me, I had to hunt for a place to put my sleeping bag.  I think I ended up on the floor of one of the upstairs rooms.  The rest of the folks in the room mostly managed to avoid stepping on me.

   The place was sort of in the middle of nowhere.  There were about a dozen houses on the road.  At one end was an odd pier that was an oil pipeline (there were oil pumps close by).  The other end was a surfing beach that butted right up against the highway.  Down the road a way, if you could safely cross the highway, was a very small town with an even smaller market.  It was the only one in the area.

   I don't think any of us minded.  Most of the girls were typical Southern Californians.  They were out there on their towels, soaking up the rays right after breakfast.  Me, I like laying out in the sun, but it doesn't like me.  I blame my Northern European ancestry.  If I put on enough sunscreen, and stayed out of the water (and stayed somewhat covered up), I survived.  Luckily, I really like walking along beaches.  And during the heat of the day I could be inside-reading a book, writing, or playing a card game with someone.  I was not particularly close to most of the girls.  I had a few friends there, but I like being solitary.

One of the things I will always remember about the first trip was how the world didn't end.  You see, some well known prophet had predicted that the world was going to end on a specific day (and time).  That day just happened to be when we were up at the beach house.  I realized that the odds of that actually happening were pretty slim, but I decided to go along with it.  Besides, I figured, what better place to be when the world ends than sitting on a beautiful beach?  So at the appointed hour I was there on the beach, wearing my hat, eating my lunch.  I had a lovely time.  Eventually it was late enough in the afternoon that I needed to go in to start helping fix dinner.  So yeah, I was waiting, but the world decided not to end that day.

   A side benefit to that day was that I was sitting down towards the last house in the row.  Just happened.  The owner of the house came over and we started talking.  We laughed about the world not ending.  Turned out he was just a few years older than I.  For a living he was a guide to groups who wanted to tour the outer Channel Islands-visible on the horizon.  He wasn't much to look at, but fun to talk to.  He told me to look for him next year if I came.  When he was out on a tour he'd be gone a week or so at a time.  So we'd see.

   The second year of our spring break beach house trip, Monique was able to come along.  I knew it was going to be interesting.  By then we had trained our Scout leaders that, despite their misgivings, we were reliable.  Hippies yes, reliable also yes.  The big thing that we tended to do on weekend camp outs (especially ones near beaches) was to go on long walks together.  Our usual plan was to leave some time after breakfast with our lunches.  We'd tell our leaders where we were going and when we'd be back.  Usually  we stuck to our plans.  When we didn't though, it was usually epic.  Which reminds me, I really do have to write down some of the other epic hike adventures.

   When we arrived at the beach house our Junior year, I once again had a hassle finding sleeping space.  I think I ended up on the same floor.  But this time I think everyone in the room was closer friends to us, so it was more fun.  And being in an odd room on the second floor meant the leaders were less likely to raid us.  On our first short hike the first evening I determined that my friend at the end house was indeed home.

   Now we were under 18 years old, so any interaction with an adult male had to be secret.  So of course, Monique and I were able to do it.  We managed to spend several hours in his house, talking to him and his friends.  They invited us to go with them to the local swap meet the next day.  That would take much more serious planning on our part.  We left with plans for the next day.

   For the rest of the day and that night we were on our best behavior.  It had to have made our leaders suspicious.  But no one had seen us talking to the guys, and we certainly didn't tell anyone of our plans, so all was well.

   The next morning we informed our leaders where we were going to hike.  To go that far would take 2-3 hours.  Our leaders themselves had made that hike the prior day, so we got approval.  We grabbed the lunches we had made and took off.  Once we were beyond the sight line, we ducked back to the first house.  The guys were waiting and we hopped in to the car.  All the way down the road we  crouched down by the floor boards, so we couldn't be seen.  

   It was a fun swap meet.  Monique bought some jewelry.  I just had fun looking.  We made it back on time, well maybe a bit late.  Our leaders said they hadn't seen us.  We told them that we had crossed the highway (which we weren't supposed to do without permission and an adult) and walked down that way.  We got in a bit of trouble for that, but nothing like we would have if the truth were known.  I think we had to do extra chores and were limited in our hikes.  Not a problem.  We knew that soon enough some of the other girls would do something foolish and our "mistake" would be forgotten.

   The third year the guys weren't there.  We were high school seniors then, preparing to take on the world.  We actually got the bed in our little room on the second floor.  We took our younger friends with us on hikes and considered walking out the odd pier at the other end.  We eventually figured out that there was probably some sort of security and we really didn't want to be in that much trouble.  Turns out we were right.  There were some other teens staying in a house down that way who did try it.  Cops showed up and everything.

   It was a quiet year, but we had fun.  The end of our high school was soon.  We knew that we wouldn't be able to return to that beach house again (and we didn't).  It was a lovely place full of happy memories for us.  Every time I drive by that stretch of beach I remember and thank God for the generosity of the church folks who let us use it.