While visiting the beach in Maine, a favorite activity of mine has always been building sandcastles with many walls and moats around it to keep the tidal waters out. Eventually, the tide would win, but it was fun to see how long the sandcastle would last.
One visit to the beach (around 1967) found the four of us kids digging holes in the sand. We used our hands as shovels. We started on our knees and soon, we were laying on our stomachs reaching down at arms' length into our holes. It was interesting to watch each other - waiting for the first one to reach the ocean water.
My brother Dave, climbed into his hole and stood up. His head was barely out of the top of it. Although I don't remember how old he was at the time, the hole must have been at least five feet deep. And yes, he was the first to reach the water.
Many years later, we were unable to dig such deep holes because of the rocks that were put on the beach through the storms and those that infiltrated into the sand through the years. So if we were to give a prize for the deepest hole, my brother Dave would be the winner.
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