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Beat The Retreat

I love the wide open spaces…..............to go barefoot and feel the sand between my toes…................the wind in my hair and beard…...............watch the pounding surf retreat, leaving behind foam of varying hues….............watch the foam bubbles pop and shrink…...........smell the kelp, abandoned on the beach, by that which gave it life….............the thunder of the surf….......watch the squirts of water from pipis and other shellfish which dig deeper when they feel my approach…..............me, alone…........ to reflect on natures wonders.

Occasionally, those wonders can be my undoing. That may well have been the case here, if I didn’t get the hell out of there fast! The hair on my arms and neck bristled with the static in the air….................nature’s way of saying, “Here I come, the Allpowerful. I can bring peace and serenity or I can bring chaos. Today I’m in a bad mood so get out of my way!” The storm was choking the life out of the day as darkness descended and I thought of the survival skills that I had learned….............if mist or night descends, follow the sand ripples with the long edge to the rear….........the short (leading) edge will always point to shore whilst the longest edge points to the sea…...........clearly illustrated here. Those who’ve been alone in an open space as a storm approached may well guess at my feelings.

A storm threatens one of the many rarely visited beaches on the N Western coast of Tasmania which one can have all to oneself.