Memories of Combers Beach

Memories of Combers Beach

By Nick Aitoro

Combers Beach is more than a stretch of sand—it’s a living scrapbook of memories. I’ve walked this shore with my daughter, in 2 different loves, and with my pups—Griffin, Gwen, Kona, and soon Rufus—each one leaving pawprints and laughter in the tide line of my mind. This is a place where time slows, where an entire sweep of ocean feels like it belongs only to you, and where solitude has its own kind of companionship.

I remember the freedom of wide-open space, the joy of dogs chasing birds until they collapse happily in the sand, and the way the horizon seems endless—both a boundary and an invitation. Soon it will be just me and Rufus, a corgi with more spirit than size, reminding me that solitude can still hold joy, energy, and connection.

The path to Combers reflects the journey inward. It begins with a descent through the forest, where towering trees close in around you, the air hushed with the weight of centuries. The trail bends, dips, and then opens onto wooden boardwalks, carrying you toward the sound of surf that grows louder with every step. And then—suddenly—the forest falls away, and there it is: the vast expanse of beach, rolling waves, and sky.

For me, this place is not only a sanctuary but a mirror. I return here not just to remember, but to reset. To feel the rhythm of the tide and measure my own pace against it. To honor memories that shaped me, while making room for new ones. Combers is solitude, but never loneliness. It’s a place where the soul has space to breathe.