Right-of-way, Wrong-of-way

There was a time when Rhode Islanders could get to every inch of their shoreline. That isn’t true anymore, even though Rhody probably does a better job than the other 22 coastal states of promoting its public rights of way. Making our way to the water’s edge is considered a birthright, a privilege granted to every Rhode Islander by the colony’s original charter, as ordained by King Charles II, and affirmed later in the state Constitution.

Here, people have the right to fish from the shore; leave the shore to swim in the sea; gather seaweed; or merely pass along the shore on their excursions and ramblings. Jim Bedell, whose Coast Watcher’s Journal column appears in the arts section of Independent Newspapers, writes eloquently about the natural beauty, history, science and encounters that can be combed from the southern Rhode Island shoreline while informing citizens of their public access rights.

Unfortunately, not everybody shares the same democratic spirit. Over the years, some public rights of way have been obliterated – marked improperly with Private Property, No Trespassing or No Parking signs; blocked by grown trees or shrubbery, illegal dumping or fencing; even paved over.

I am reminded of what a blessing Rhode Island’s rights of ways are every day, from my little cottage on the cove, where the public access (and parking) are plentiful. People come to sit and watch the waves and the light, the rising moons and the setting suns, the bonfires and fireworks around the Fourth of July. They come to fish, explore the little beaches, swim or launch kayaks.

I often walk to the beach at Allin’s Cove, visiting swans and herons, geese and ducks, gulls and crows, shore birds and songbirds. From there I sometimes ramble through the neighborhood, connecting to the East Bay Bike Path, and wander over to the other side of the cove in a neighborhood once known as Drownville. A little over a mile leads to Mussachuck, where the other day I watched herring run up the creek and two nesting osprey take turns looping through the winds. Not far away, just past Annawamscutt Beach, another pair of osprey has successfully established a nest.

Last week, after visiting Rosecliff for this Thursday’s paper column, I meandered to the Cliff Walk and settled on a small beach between Marine Avenue and Ruggles Avenue, where the waves were wild and white, giving off an “Aquidneck Five-0” vibe. A day later, my commute took me toward Sakonnet, so I dropped by Warrens Point – perhaps my favorite spot in the state. The place is generally inaccessible since the way to it is guarded by a man in a little security booth during the warmer months and, unless you have a boat, you can’t get there without someone claiming you’re trespassing. Some day, when I can afford the jail time, I’ll challenge the blatant abuse of wealth at work here, but that’s a fight for another recession. For now, I’m content to limit my visits to three seasons. Even though signs say the beach is closed; truth is, nature never closes its beaches. Only people do.

As much as we should celebrate every right of way, we should challenge every wrong of way. If I can ever afford to retire (not likely), I’ll start up a Wrong of Way Brigade. We’ll wear buttons that say WOW and march to all of Rhode Island’s inaccessible shore paths, demanding our way to the waves and the wind and the light that belong to nobody but are shared by all souls.

What is your favorite Rhode Island right of way?