Thursday November 1: It is late morning and I have trekked down the once dirt road that leads to Race Rock (Point).The road is blocked with a “CLOSED sign now, I have a tough time getting through even riding on my bike. Like most of the circumference of the Island, it looks as though topography of beaches has shifted dramatically-here it has jumped onto the airport runway. The Ocean’s ferocity poured onto the dirt road access. The marine debris field is enormous, loaded with huge logs and shredded tree limbs, trees, telephone poles, and ripped docks. I am swamped in eel grass and sink with each step. There is trash of all types and from who knows where. My senses are shocked by the foreign seascape in front of me.  A mountain of rocks and sand has been shoved down the runway where race Point “broke down” and collapsed during the storm. I do note cactus here in the tide line and more than a few “treasures” or “ another man’s trash” perhaps from the old Fort Wright dumping station.