COLUMN: Bicycling on a Beach?

The lighthouse at Harbor Town. Image via Wikipedia

By Tobin Barnes
Normally, a person doesn’t think of bicycles and beaches together.

Or anyway I’d never combined those two images—different spheres of activity, really. But it turns out that was just a lack of experience on my part.

I never thought I’d be much of a beach person in the first place. Not that I’m a ball of physical fire, but beach life always seemed pretty sedentary, and frankly, a little dull. I’ve since changed my mind.

We’ve been to a lot of places now where beaches border oceans, and I’ve come to enjoy and appreciate them immensely. Yes, as good places to sit around a little while and enjoy the rolling surf and the incoming and outgoing tides--but mainly as great places to take a walk.

Something primal about beaches appeals to a lot of people, and to me.

I’ve been on beaches where the sand was so soft it was like walking on pillows. And I’ve been on beaches that were literally strewn with shells and sea-life debris. And I’ve been on beaches that were mostly pebbles, rocks, and boulders.

But I’d never been on a beach where people rode bicycles until I’d gotten to Hilton Head Island in South Carolina where we spent an early summer vacation recently. Our hotel was just off the beach, the two separated by a line of sand dunes with sea oats growing on them.

So, yes, this was a sandy beach, but a hard sandy beach, particularly on the parts where the tide had come in and gone back out. Then it was so compacted and broad, it was fit for an airplane landing strip.

And, as I’ve indicated, this surface made it a perfect place to ride bicycles.

Rentals could be taken out from all kinds of places on the island, including our hotel.

The rentals we picked up were pretty stodgy things—nothing special whatsoever, just well-used, broad-handle-barred, fat-tired, single-geared, reverse-the-pedal-to-brake-it kinda clunky things. Pretty much like everybody else’s who was riding this beach. The standard model, I guess.

Nevertheless, these bikes were more than enough to make you feel like a kid again. But then bicycles do that. They were seemingly designed for kids and for people who don’t mind feeling like a kid.

The beach was so flat and hard that pedaling was supremely effortless.

We’d go for miles and miles before even noticing the distance we’d covered. We’d swerve back and forth, down by the water and then back up toward the dunes. We’d swerve around other bicyclers and walkers and people in beach chairs and on towels. It was like a dreamy clip in a movie.

No one seemed to notice all the two-wheeled traffic winding amongst the sunbathers, no one got upset. People riding bicycles was not only condoned, but expected. All the beachcombers probably did their share of riding, too. Seemed like these fuddy-duddy bikes were parked by many, if not most, of the houses, condos, and hotels on the island.

When we had our fill of riding on the beach, we’d turn inland and ride the miles of flat bike paths amidst the subtropical, almost jungle-like growth in the interior of the island—specifically, nearly 50 miles of bike paths, if I remember the tourist literature correctly. We didn’t do all fifty, but we biked a lot of them across the island.

So, bicycling on a beach?

Sure. Some places, it’s the thing to do.