They are joined by people from all over the region who are drawn to the wide vistas and cold Atlantic water of this quintessential New England beach, sunny day after sunny day.
“It’s a special place,’’ said Connelly, a retired sea captain who looks the part with a trim white beard and deep, leathery tan. “I’ve traveled around the world, but I prefer here.’’
He knows what he’s talking about. Unlike the legions of towel- and folding chair-toting beachgoers who retreated, 5 or 10 feet at a time, before the encroaching tide all afternoon, Connelly has learned where to plant his beach chair so that the waves only nibble at his toes.
He knows exactly what happens at low tide, too: The beach is so exposed that children can walk to a small island about 50 yards out and dive for lobsters, just as he did as a child.
Connelly is a prominent member of Good Harbor Beach society. He knows all the regulars on the east end, and they know him. If they squint at one another, they can see the faces of their great-grandparents, grandparents, and parents, who all came here, too.
They mourn the 2009 death of William McKay, known to them as Uncle Bud, who died at 84 after years of serving as the beach’s unofficial caretaker. His ashes were scattered in the tide.
McKay gauged the water depth several times a day and posted each day’s tide schedule on a blackboard near the snack shop, where his portrait hangs today.
The regulars say the east side is breezier than the rest of the beach, a blessing this week, when temperatures soared. Not that the west end doesn’t have its partisans.
“It’s quick, it’s easy, and kids love the river,’’ said Regina Pacor, 44, of Melrose, referring to the creek that spills from the ocean into a pool near the road. As she spoke, two boys raced each other to the pool, riding the current on boogie boards.
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