Uncle Chester's World Beach Tour [ EXTENDED ]

By contrast, Whitehaven was so white it hurt your eyes. Silica sand, 98% pure. Chester, now sunburned from Iceland (the man defies logic), immediately dropped his pants to roll in it.

“Next year,” Chester said, “the volcano tours.” uncle chester's world beach tour

He didn’t build a sculpture. He didn’t taste the sand. He just put his arm around my shoulder, and Gregory (who had somehow followed us across three continents) landed on his head. By contrast, Whitehaven was so white it hurt your eyes

He spent four hours on his hands and knees, sorting colors. Red glass was “a rare blood type.” Blue was “for the melancholy.” He filled his watermelon cooler with so much sea glass that he couldn’t lift it. Gregory the seagull stole a bright green piece and flew off with it. Chester just waved. “Next year,” Chester said, “the volcano tours

“He’s starting his own collection,” he said.

He spent three hours burying Gregory in the pink sand (the bird tolerated this). Then he built a mermaid out of coral and driftwood, gave it his hat, and proposed marriage to it. A small child filmed the entire thing. Chester’s final act here was to taste the sand. He confirmed it was not, in fact, strawberry-flavored. He was disappointed.