Someone put an awful lot of effort in to building a lean-to fort on the beach down the road from my house. Inside, they left this note held down by rocks on a small table:
We live in an area with a lot of wood refuse, the tides and inlets trap logs that escape from the booms or wash off other beaches close by. Driftwood forts are not uncommon on BC beaches. But this one is more impressive than any I’ve seen before – larger and with more structure, artful in its overlay of logs. Inside it feels stable, though I don’t trust makeshift shelters built by strangers and so wouldn’t camp in it overnight, but it *is* well above the high tide line. There is evidence of small campfires close by which makes me think that perhaps the builders did sleep overnight, though the evening I found the fort no one else was around.
I don’t know how long this fort will last. Some responsible grown-up is bound to come along and knock it apart out of concerns for the safety of small children. Or else the waves will come up and shift things in such a way that it becomes unstable and collapses in the next gust of wind. Such projects are temporary which is what imbues them with magic.
This fort existed four days ago and I wonder now if it is still there. The next time I go to that beach I will tense as I step off the trail, hoping it continues. I will hold my breath until it becomes driftwood again.