After five weeks of dance classes, and scouring the internet, thrift stores, costume and jewelry retailers for appropriately mermaid-colored sequins, pearls, shells, and other sea-themed accessories to sew onto hair clips, bathing suits, and sarongs, we met at Wreck Beach bright and early on an overcast but warm August morning.
We’d been watching the weather forecast with apprehension because it called for cloudy skies and mid-morning showers, right at the time when we were scheduled to film our performance, but once the date was locked in, we put our faith in the weather goddesses and descended the long, winding wooden stairs to the beach.
For anyone who doesn’t know, Wreck Beach is North America's largest clothing-optional beach, stretching nearly eight kilometers (or five miles) along the coastline below the University of British Columbia (UBC) cliffs in Vancouver.
To get there, you park along the street (NW Marine Drive) and descend approximately 480 steps made of hewn lumber, cut into the cliffside. It takes between five and 15 minutes to get to the bottom, depending on how sure footed you are.
Ascending is a much more arduous affair, taking anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes, depending on your fitness level and if you’ve just spent the entire day drinking in the sun. Stay to watch the sunset, like many visitors do, and the climb up the stairs is lit only by the moon filtering through the forest canopy and your phone light held in shaky hands. In the dark, it takes even longer.
Magical Morning
But that morning, just before 9 am, we were among the first people on the beach. As we turned right at the bottom of the stairs and navigated the treacherous rocks towards a secluded section of sand far in the distance, we passed a solitary naked man taking in the first rays of sun filtering through the clouds.
Slowly, the rest of the dancers arrived one or two at a time, until we were all assembled, peeling off sweatpants and leaving our hiking shoes and backpacks piled on the rocks. We applied the last bits of our costumes, sequined triangles of netting, ankle bracelets, tiaras, and body glitter as the morning breeze whipped our hair and swirled loose sand around our legs.
Jess Roh, our videographer, tested the light, picked the best angles for filming, and took a few group shots. Then Melody Mangler, our choreographer, walked us over to the exact stretch of shoreline she had scouted the weekend before. We all agreed it was perfectly picturesque.
We did a couple of practice runs to the music, dancing on the sand to get used to the difference in resistance from our polished wood rehearsal space floor, then we took our places ankle-deep in the water as Jess started recording.
We made it all way through to the part where we’re reclining on our backs, trying not to splash each other or kick wet sand in each other’s faces. We adjusted our spacing to allow for more room between our feet and the next girl’s head, then started again.
“Something is biting me!”
Just as we were starting the second run through, someone let out a yelp of pain. Someone had stepped on something sharp. Melody urged us all to watch out for small rocks and shells embedded in the sand. A few seconds later, another yelp. Then another.
Pretty soon, we all felt it. We looked down and inspected the sand, and saw that the entire area was covered in tiny holes. Something invisible but vicious was living right under our feet and we were apparently disturbing its rest. One girl already had tiny, bloody marks visible on her ankles.
At the same time, we noticed the tide was coming in fast. Melody had been studying the tidal tables in preparation for this day, but now we were quickly losing the beach to encroaching water and a particularly unfriendly native species.
Solo Moments
We decided to move several feet down the beach, where a perfect rock was jutting up out of the water. We took a break from the choreography to film a series of “solo moments,” each of us taking turns to recline against the rock while the other dancers hooted and hollered encouragement.
As the last of us were finishing our solo poses, we noticed the tide had come dangerously close to our bags and backpacks, and we were mere minutes away from losing this entire section of beach to the ocean.
We quickly gathered up our belongings, which were already stranded on isolated moss-covered rocks in the midst of a rapidly rising tide, carefully stepped into our shoes and scrambled across the rocks to find the next perfect setting for our performance.
About five minutes down the beach, we found the ideal spot to relocate our little production. We parked our bags and shed our gear on some dry logs at a nice safe distance from the water and set up for the next round of filming.
Choreo, What Choreo?
We ran through several takes in ankle-deep surf, this time blissfully free of biting ocean creatures, then moved deeper into the water to film the remaining segments in waist-deep waves.
And then something unexpected happened. Collectively, we completely forgot our choreography. Something about the added complexity of trying to keep our balance in the ever-shifting sands, while lapping waves swirled around our bodies, just erased the last five weeks of dance moves from our memories.
Melody took pity on us and decided to dance the entire sequence on the beach, facing away from us, so we could follow along until muscle memory kicked back in.
We ran through the entire song several more times, until Jess was satisfied she had captured all the angles she needed to knit together the final version.
By that time, the sun had begun to pierce the clouds, shining down and reflecting beautifully off the water as we arranged ourselves for group shots and more solos, giving each dancer the opportunity to play in the surf and bring out their unique personality on camera.
Calves and Buns of Steel
Usually, at the end of a progressive series of classes, there’s a stage performance and a cheering audience filled with friends and family. This morning, there was just an empty beach, slowly filling up with the usual summer weekend visitors.
After nearly three hours on the beach, we wrapped up filming for the day and said our goodbyes. We slowly climbed the stairs and made our way home. Over the next few days, those hours in the sand and surf activated our muscles in ways that weeks of rehearsal and our regular workout routines couldn’t prepare us for. My calves were on fire!
But it was a good pain… and six weeks later, we finally have video evidence of all our hard work! As always, I’m looking forward to my next collaboration with these talented, creative babes.
