Бикман Бич in Oyster Bay

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comments 5

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  robert fitzpatrick

  :: 11 April 2018 19:45:49

  Swim at your own risk in the very clean waters of Oyster Bay Harbor. You can find a parking space. Bathrooms are near by at the western Waterfront next to building J. There is a nice swing set here also. There are a few benches where you can sit and relax looking at the Bay. The beach is not raked by the town although there is a cleanup every year and there are lots of shells and such. The beach closes at dusk. It is usually not busy and it’s a very quiet beach. You will also see swans and other shore birds here.

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  Stephen Gard

  :: 07 April 2018 00:11:55

  Probably if we’d asked the Oyster Bay Historical Society ‘Who was this Beekman and how come he gets a beach named after him? Or her?’ they’d have told us, but we didn’t, so we don’t know. We do know it’s a fine place to ramble. We were in Oyster Bay recovering from a few weeks in the North American continent, recruiting our health after being bullied, buffeted, cross-examined and corralled, and that was just at L.A. International. After that, things got serious. So, before we ran the gauntlet at JFK, ere boarding our homeward flight, we stayed a day-and-a-night-and-a-day at Oyster Bay, a peaceful distance away on Long Island, because Google maps made it looked tranquil and sea-shoreish, and there is no better place to gather your strength, ready for a strenuous processing by the TSA, than in the company of wooden jetties, and the cry of gulls, and the scent of salt water. We rented rooms in a veritable American clapboard former family residence, the kind that Theodore ‘Beaver’ Cleaver probably grew up in. With squirrels scuttering up and down the oak-tree by our kitchen window. The rest of the house was inhabited only by a late-middle-aged fellow who spent a lot of time seated on his front stoop staring into the distance, and who’s to say he kept the preserved corpse of his mother in a back room? We never saw her, anyway. We intended to ramble around the townlet of Oyster Bay, and by golly we did. If ever a town and its surrounds were rambled, we were the ramblers par excellence who did that rambling. We aways seemed to end up at the waterfront, and after inspecting the marina, which is a marina, we bent our steps towards Beekman Beach, which is so much more than a beach. We sought serenity and shingle there, and sails and sand. Silence was in plentiful supply. A pair of languid women sculled by in pair-oar configuration, clearly not striving for an Olympic gong, but enjoying life, and feathering nicely. The gaff-rigged oyster sloop Christeen puttered in, bearing a cargo of jacketed youngsters on the half-shell. From a shed over yonder came the sound of hammering, planing, spoke-shaving, rib-fitting, and the hum of lumber ageing: the whole cheerful maritime racket of ship-building. For these are the premises of the Christeen Preservation Corp, and the Corp having preserved Christeen, they were now, shiver me timbers, preserving something else. Right friendly folk they were, welcomed us in, answered all our busy-body questions, and allowed us to snoop around until hell wouldn’t have it. Back at the beach, we continued our ramblings, now and then lolling on a bench to absorb the vistas and inhale the tang of bay-bred air. Beekman's is clean, debris-free, eye-soothing. Now and then, a train came clanging in, for this is the terminus of the LIRR line. There are interesting rail yards over yonder; we know, because we rambled over that-a-way. We left Oyster Bay refreshed, taking pleasing memories of Beekman, leaving only footprints in the shingle. Thank you, whoever you were.

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  Joan Baas

  :: 08 December 2017 09:13:30

  This is by far my favorite spot in Oyster Bay...

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  Sarah Beth

  :: 20 October 2017 22:09:18

  You don't need a town sticker to use this beach!

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  Quentin Wilson

  :: 04 September 2017 10:55:46