The Great Seaweed Relocation Scandal

I need to talk about what I witnessed last week at Jetties Beach. I have been processing it. I am still processing it. What I saw was a violation of the social contract so profound that I had to document it for posterity.

I saw a man move seaweed from his territory to mine.

The Scene

The date: June 14th. The location: Jetties Beach, mid-beach section, between the third and fourth lifeguard stands. I had set up at approximately 9:45 AM, securing a prime location with minimal seaweed accumulation. By 10:30, the beach had filled considerably. A family arrived and set up approximately twelve feet to my left—an acceptable distance, if barely.

Over the next hour, I noticed the father making several trips to the water's edge. Nothing unusual. Children need supervision near waves. But then I noticed something else.

Each time he returned, he was carrying seaweed. Not from the water. From HIS AREA. And he was depositing it—I watched this happen THREE times—near my setup.

The Evidence

I am a careful observer. Here is what I documented:

10:47 AM: Subject gathers handful of seaweed from vicinity of his beach chair. Walks toward water. Does not reach water. Drops seaweed approximately four feet from my cooler. Returns empty-handed.

11:12 AM: Subject again gathers seaweed from his area. Repeats the walk-and-drop. This time, three feet from my towel edge. I am watching. He does not make eye contact.

11:34 AM: Subject collects significant seaweed pile. Walks directly past my setup. Deposits it TWO FEET from my umbrella pole. Whistles while returning to his territory.

By noon, my previously seaweed-minimal area had become a seaweed repository. His area remained conspicuously clean.

The Confrontation

I'm sure he didn't MEAN to. But intent does not excuse behavior.

At 12:15, I approached him. Politely. I am always polite.

"Excuse me," I said. "I couldn't help but notice you've been moving seaweed from your area toward mine."

He looked at me with what I can only describe as rehearsed innocence. "What? No. I was just... I was walking."

"You were carrying seaweed."

"Maybe. I don't remember."

Reader, he was carrying seaweed FIVE MINUTES PRIOR. His memory is either failing or convenient.

I did not press further. His wife was giving me a look. His children were playing nearby. I chose peace. But I know what I saw.

The Larger Issue

This was not an isolated incident. I have witnessed seaweed relocation at least six times this season. The pattern is always the same: arrive, assess, find seaweed, move it toward neighbors, pretend nothing happened.

Why do people do this? Seaweed is natural. Seaweed is part of the beach experience. Seaweed, I will admit, smells somewhat unfortunate in concentrated quantities. But it belongs here. WE are the visitors.

Moving your seaweed to someone else's area doesn't reduce the total seaweed. It just transfers the burden. It's a statement that says: "My beach experience matters more than yours."

The Ethics

Let me be clear: seaweed relocation is theft. Not of property—of peace. Of cleanliness. Of the unwritten understanding that the beach we inherit when we arrive is the beach we tend during our stay.

If seaweed washes up on your towel, you have options:

1. Move your towel
2. Accept the seaweed as part of nature
3. Gently relocate it toward the WATER, where it came from
4. Take it to a designated collection point, if one exists

What you do NOT do is push it into someone else's territory. This is not problem-solving. This is problem-shifting. And I am tired of being the destination for other people's shifted problems.

A Message to Umbrella 7

You know who you are. Father of two, blue umbrella, striped towels, suspiciously clean sand radius.

I saw what you did. I documented what you did. And next time I'm at Jetties, I'll be watching.

I'm sure you didn't MEAN to. But I'm sure you did it anyway.

The seaweed remembers. I remember.

Do better.