Each December, when the full moon brings full tides, our beach fills up with stuff. Sometimes it's logical, like the year hundreds of oranges got swept out to sea from an Oxnard orchard, then rode the eddies to wash up on our shore. Sometimes it's just plain weird - pink plastic widgets from a capsized container, or fleets of foreign jelly fish blown far, far off course, their tiny sails, translucent purple, sticking out of the sand. This morning, after a wind-tossed weekend, the debris made sense. Kelp, lots and lots of kelp, torn loose by big waves. And this trio of shiny new kayaks, lashed together with a cable lock already rusted shut.