I went on a walk today along the ocean cliffs of a beautiful state park with nothing more than a water bottle and my keys. I ended up walking back with a garbage bag filled with everything from a can opener to a kerosene container. I feel like I did the right thing but did my small action make enough of a difference?

It was windy today along the coast. Standing at the edge of a cliff at Wilder Ranch State Park, I felt dangerously close to being pushed over the edge. Whipping around me, slicing right through my fleece, numbing my nose and exposed fingers, hair licking at my red face like Medusa’s lively tendrils, I shiver with the cold and with the exhiliration you feel every time you risk looking over the edge.

A white plastic yogurt container and black garbage bag loom into view. Darn it. I was hoping for a cormorant’s nest or perhaps another Canadian goose like the one I saw earlier – out for a Sunday stroll, enjoying the ocean view. But no. Just some trash.

Just some trash that if I don’t pick-up quick is going to end up swept out into the ocean where most likely a turtle will mistake it for a midday jelly-fish snack or without a doubt it will stay floating on the surface, breaking into tinier and tinier pieces competing with the zooplankton’s habitat and eventually migrating to the belly of a bird or a whale. That was a mouthful. Now I have to pick up that bag and yogurt container.

Bracing myself against the wind, I gingerly walk down the dirt path to reach the cliff ledge below. Fighting against the wind, my ears stinging, I plough onwards toward the container. As I stoop to pick it up I see another plastic bag, weighted down with rainwater, just inches away. I grab that one. Inches away is another and to my right is a plastic fork and a cheese whiz can and another fork and a can opener…

I go get the garbage bag to collect all this junk but the wind tries to grab it first. The black plastic whips around frantically trying to free itself from my determined grip. It fills with air and tries to take off like a kite. I shake off as much water as I can and then turn my back to the wind. Grumbling about stupid crack heads and how they’re trashing all our beaches, I struggle to open the dirty thing so I can make use of it for trash collecting. Finally. Watching my step on the slippery rock surface I start picking up all the trash around me. In the end I wind up with 1 garbage bag, two more plastic bags, 1 plastic yogurt container, 3 plastic forks (sporks actually), 1 cheese whiz can, 1 rusted can opener, 2 kerosene containers and 1 plastic water bottle. I leave behind (because I am too disgusted and don’t have gloves) a porno magazine and several clothing items. I don’t want to know.

So why am I telling you all this? I guess I need to rant to someone about the deplorable state of our beaches and the profligate nature of our society. But there’s more to it than that.

As frustrating as it was to find all that discarded debris just below the trail in a state park, it was also very satisfying to clean it all up. It wasn’t what I had planned to do on my relaxing Sunday walk, but while huffing back up the trail with my load I felt a sense of accomplishment and pride at the task I had completed. It makes me want to carry a bag with me wherever I go so I can pick up any stray piece of trash I find.

Maybe it's time to start thinking about using Wall-E to fix our trash problem...

I can imagine myself as an old woman, speed walking down my street, trash grabber in one hand, bag in the other, sweat band at my brow, and the neighbors all sighing as I hurry past, “There goes old lady Lautamo, on her usual trash route again. Does she really think her singular efforts have any real impact?” Oh no! How did I get from pride and accomplishment to crazy old trash lady? I’m realizing that although picking up trash is the right thing to do (and by all means please do it whenever you have the urge), always tackling rogue trash (and other problems) all on your lonesome is not a real long-term solution.

I have always felt better about the state of the world, and myself, when I am part of a group who shares my goals and values. It brings me new hope and purpose to realize that everyone around me has so much to offer.

I am not the only person this afternoon who picked up trash off the beach and there will be others who search the sand and streets for trash tomorrow. Working with others on environmental issues like this one, is a constant reminder that you’re not alone. It is a reminder that our individual actions can create change, especially when we come together and share what we have to offer. When I am alone, just knowing that there are others supporting my seemingly meager attempts at saving the planet, I am motivated to look over the edge and then right the wrongs that I might see.