The Joy of a Rocky Beach

Summer doesn't require sand

I grew up thinking sandy beaches were superior. The South Shore of Long Island is sandy and the North Shore is rocky, so it was an ingrained and unexamined childhood rivalry, much like being born into a sports fandom.

A sandy beach should be better for relaxation than a rocky one—you can walk barefoot (so long as you don’t mind burning the bottoms of your feet on a hot day) and it’s easy to find a comfortable place to lay out on a towel. But I’m fidgety and prone to sunburn, so I’ve always preferred a more active beach experience, collecting sea glass and shells and smooth discs of wet sand imprinted with crab footprints. On a sandy beach, you really have to work to find those collectibles and at the end of your scavenging, you’re covered in…well, sand.

As an adult, I discovered the Superior beaches. Miles of shoreline chock full of interesting rocks? Consider my heart stolen.

Sevenmile Beach at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

Sure, the shores of Lake Superior feature some sandy stretches, but there’s a reason that rockhounding is a popular pastime up there. If you have patience, sharp vision, and a bit of luck, there’s the alluring possibility of finding agates, Isle Royale greenstone, or yooperlite. Or if you’re like me, you are hopeless at identifying the specialty rocks and instead just take hundreds of photos of the prettiest colors and patterns you see. (I’m especially fond of green rocks.)

A pretty collection washed ashore near the Beaver Creek campground at Pictured Rocks National Lakeshore

As a backpacker, I love resting on a rocky beach. When a rock sneaks into my shoe, it’s easy to remove it. When sand gets into my shoe (or pants or socks or bag of peanut M&Ms), I am plagued by those tiny, abrasive grains for the rest of the day, if not the rest of the trip. A lunch break on a rocky beach means I can sit down, take off my shoes, and venture barefoot into the lake to filter water. The short term discomfort of sitting on a slightly bumpy surface is absolutely better than finding sand hours later in my teeth and between my toes.

Somewhere along the North Shore of Minnesota

There’s also less pressure when I visit a rocky beach. A sandy beach is the setting for a beach day, which requires good weather and swimsuits and a fully stocked tote bag with sunscreen, snacks, and furiously melting ice water. It feels like a lot of work if I decide to go.

I have no such hangups about visiting a rocky beach. You know what makes rocks shine? Fog and rain. A little dampness really brings out the colors of the rocks. Just cuff your pants, slip on some waterproof sandals, and take a stroll. A hoodie with a generous pocket is also nice if you’re somewhere that allows rock collecting.

That’s it, no overloaded beach wagon needed for this excursion!

Rainbow Cove at Isle Royale National Park

There will always be a soft spot in my heart for a sandy beach, but I’m no longer afflicted by my youthful sandy beach snobbery. Lake Superior has a way of humbling people and I’m no exception. I don’t think it’s possible to look out at the endless water and then down at the endless rocks and not feel some measure of awe. On a sandy beach, it’s easy to ignore the magnitude of sand—a billion grains in each cubic foot. On a rocky beach, the scale makes counting easier to attempt, so you feel the expanse all the more when you quickly abandon the endeavor.

I haven’t made it up to Lake Superior yet this year, so my dreams have been an anthology of cool, foggy mornings sloshing my way along the shore. My dream self is much better at spotting bright rocks under the water than I am, so those moments of joy are always tempered with a drop of disappointment when I wake, empty handed.

I may not be living my dream life hunting for rocks on the beach this summer, but it is safe to say that—at least for now—I am not missing the sand.