Sun of the Beach: Hyde Park Beaches (49th and 57th Street)

More than anything, Katie and I want to find a beach that we absolutely hate. A place we can deride, criticize, and complain about, guilt-free. We were hopeful that today would be the day that we found this beach of our ire. Partly, we’re looking for a terrible beach because we want something to contrast the beautiful beaches we’ve consistently been finding. But mostly, we want to find a beach we hate because we’re apparently really evil people. On our way down to Hyde Park, we already began mocking its beaches. You can’t even swim at 49^th Street Beach? Bollocks! There’s no parking at 57^th Street, meaning you have to cross Lake Shore Drive on foot to get there? Insane! By the time we got down there, the thesaurus in my mind started listing through all of the negative vocabulary I’d get to use in this review: crumbling, idiotic, deteriorating, unforgiveable, asinine…oh yes, this was going to be good.

It saddens me that I won’t be able to use any of those words to describe Hyde Park’s beaches. (But do you like how I still was able to use them, kind of? I got really attached to “asinine” and couldn’t let this entry go without using it.) While true that 49^th Street Beach does not allow swimming, and isn’t really even a beach per se, that doesn’t mean that we weren’t completely beguiled by this small stretch of shore. The area is accessible by climbing over some boulders, which leads to a pebbly strand. The boulders all tilt towards the water and the view of Chicago’s skyline, making them ideal places to lay out and meditate. Some large rocks had been worn down by frequent use, appearing more like stone sofas than the eyesores they otherwise might have been. Large fallen tree limbs created more natural couches, and when we spotted one with an empty Corona bottle and a few scattered limes, we knew that this beach was special. Though we do not condone drinking alcohol on Chicago Park District property (at least that’s what our legal counsel told us to say), this scene perfectly captures the vibe of its beach. The easygoing sunbathers, the people taking a break with their leashed dogs, and the gently lapping waves were reminiscent of the more reflective beaches of the Pacific Northwest. (Katie would know; she spent a good chunk of time in Tacoma, Washington; and I have a sister in Vancouver, so I’m pretty much an expert.) It seemed unfair to grade this beach according to the scale we’ve been using, since it’s the type of place you go to avoid the fake-cheese concession stands and energetic crowds. Using that scale would be asinine. Also, our legal counsel (her name is Jane, and is about to enter her third year of law school—I’ll pause so you can take a moment to be impressed) said: "In light of the aforementioned possible lawlessness of this beach, I must reserve my judgment on the merits." Translated to normal people talk, that means that we shouldn’t use the grading scale on 49^th Street because that technically condones some law-breakin’, which we just cannot stand for. So, we are going to grade it according to a new scale. And for that reason, we give 49^th Street three Corona bottles and a lotus flower. Whatever the hell that means.

From 49^th Street, we took the bike path south through Promontory Point. This little peninsula is big-time charming. It features some of the most mature trees you can find in an urban setting, and memorable views of both the skyline and 63^rd Street Beach House. Sooooooo not asinine. Several usable fire pits (in the American Indian “council circle” style popularized by Jens Jensen, or so Wikipedia tells me) ring the peninsula; one had recently died out, and as Katie and I inhaled the woodsy smoke in the shade of pine trees, their fallen needles cushioning the ground beneath us, we were transported momentarily to the Northwoods. And then we were brought back by violent screaming in the Point’s field house. Turns out the screaming was just part of a children’s play put on by a Lookingglass workshop, but it’s about the only dramatic thing we experienced today and I at least wanted to include one

tension-building sentence. Hope you liked it.

From Promontory Point, we went further south to 57thStreet Beach. Our big question as we approached this beach was, why go here when 63^rd Street beach is just six blocks away with a parking lot (57^th St has no lot)? In some ways that question remained unanswered, but we did see something at 57^th Street that has been conspicuously absent from the other beaches: bicycles. It looks like if you’re a Hyde Park family looking to ride instead of drive, 57^th is where you go.

The beach itself was nice. There was minimal pollution and the beach stretched itself wide, meaning people could position themselves at the busier, family-friendly north end, or lounge at the quieter, more solitary south end. There wasn’t anything too special about this beach, but it did have a nice view of the water intake station in the middle of the lake.

Next to the emergency-only bathrooms is a concession stand, manned by a really friendly crew who explained that all Chicago Park District food stands sell only Pepsi products. (We thought this would be a helpful tip for you Diet Coke drinkers who look at all other liquid refreshment as if it were arsenic.) They offered an array of concession-stand favorites; I got a hot dog and Katie went with the nachos with ground beef and jalapeno peppers. All cooked foods (burgers, hot dogs, the ground beef on your nachos) are grilled freshly, and we were very pleased with our makeshift lunches. Even more exciting than the fake nacho cheese offering: there’s an option of getting Nachos Supreme, which includes tomatoes, onions and sour cream on top of the yummy dish served to Katie. And if there is one thing that my family has taught me, it’s that the only food that arguably surpasses fake cheese in greatness is sour cream. (If you doubt my dedication to disgusting dairy products, or are curious about where this is coming from, be sure to go here: http://kathleenhinkel.blogspot.com/2012/06/okanagan-cheese-photography-clips-from.html. It’s my sister’s blog that features an explanation of our family’s cheese obsession, and her photo spread of a dairy farm for British Columbia Magazine. The way she so tenderly captures the cheese-making process shows that this is a deep-seeded love. And she’s a damn good photographer.)

As far as the whole “crossing Lake Shore Drive” debacle that Katie and I expected…well, it wasn’t a debacle at all because the city cleverly created underground passageways to connect the beach to its Hyde Park community. There were no water lines in these passageways to indicate that they flood like the ones on the North Side, meaning you’re not likely to get stranded at 57^th Street Beach during a rainstorm. Lining these passageways were mosaics that symbolized the robust, diverse Hyde Park neighborhood. Well played, HP.

Our biggest complaint of 57^th Street Beach, other than the fact that the beach itself is relatively plain, is that it’s very hard to get to if you’re not from the neighborhood. Parking will always be at least a few blocks away, and then you’re at the mercy of finding available street parking. Or if you’re looking to get rid of all that extra money you have, you could park at the Museum of Science and Industry and walk about a block. But even if you do end up having to do a bit of walking, the area’s homes are grand and historic, and the parkway between the Drive and the sidewalk is mature and beautiful. It would hardly be the worst walk you ever took in Chicago.

So no, unfortunately, we don’t hate Hyde Park’s beaches. They’re perfectly lovely, especially if you live in the area; if you don’t, try to befriend somebody who does. You’ll thank us later.