We can’t remember the last time we received a handwritten letter here at The Montauk Sun. We’d like to share one with you we received this past month. It obviously took Jessie, the young lady who wrote it, a lot of thought and time. We applaud her efforts...and her saavy...she got our attention! We are pleased to share her essay on Ditch Plains with you.
                                    ~ Ken Giustino, Publisher
                                    ~ Stefan Lonce, Editor

It is summer and my dad and I drive up to Ditch Plains, Montauk. The car stops and I unbuckle my seatbelt. I untie one shoe and then the other and step out of the car, barefoot. Looking around I can make out a crazy fisherman through the fog. He is surfcasing off the basketball sized rocks at the far left of the beach. As I turn my head, I catch sight of one lone surfer who is paddling into an enormous storm wave, about 50 yards out to sea. I trun around and wave to my dad who is waiting patiently for me in the car in the dirt parking lot, opposite the ocean. I look up and gaze at the dark grey storm clouds. They are watering the Earth. I look down and see the graham cracker colored sand. It is all wet because it is raining. I can feel the sand between my toes. It is soft and smooth, et mushy like mashed bananas.
I take a deep breath. There are so many different essences of Ditch Plains. There is a warm wind blowing with the rain. In the wind, I geyt a whiff of the smoke of a campfire that must have been made somewhere down the beach but is now put out because of the rain. I  inhale again and catch the fresh smell that Montauk has. This aroma is one of the things that sets Montauk apart fromt he rest of the world. This fresh smell is so clean and unpollted becuse it is away from cities. However, the dominant scent is the scent of the sea. That salty fragrance is a smell that just cleanses me inside out.
As I take in all the smells and beauty of Ditch Plains, the wind makes the sea grass rustle and tilt. It whines and brushes past everything like it is looking for someone. I meander toward the ocean. I step across dark clumps of dried seaweed. There are many things that have washed up on the beach, probably from storms like this one. I spy a pair of broken sunglasses, some fishing wire, and a rope. I wonder, as I am walking by these items, what their story is and how they ended up at Ditch Plains. Finally, I am at the water. Warm water splashes up onto my legs. It feels funny...the warm ocean in contrast with the cool rain. I take antoher step into the water. Some rocks are slippery and some rocks are sharp but it doesn’t bother me.
 I bend down, cup my hands, and then fill them with water. I put the seawater in my mouth and swish it around, then spit it out. That salty taste is one of the best tastes in the world. It is like tasting Montauk. I lick my lips and can taste the rain running down my face. All of a sudden, my dad beeps the horn of the car, signalling me to come back. I turn my back to the ocean and trot toward my dad leaving the crashing of the fearsome waves behind. i stop when I hear the storm behind me. Flash! Lightning lights up the sky. I start to count silently in my head. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. Boom! A crack of thunder. The storm is three miles off. That is probably why may dad wants me to come back. I guess it is time for me to go.
Other people might call the gigantic thundering waves and the whistle of the wind scary and unnerving. But I call it Montauk. A place where I can be calm and relaxed. Away from the stress and hustle of the cities, Montauk sits, waiting, for someone to come and take a break in this unique haven.