Member-only story
Beach Walker: Chapter 3
Them Ol’ Beachwalkin’ Blues
I stood on the crest of the dune. The sea before me was seal grey under an iron sky. White rows of surf rolled and crashed.
The previous day, the onshore gale had been strong enough to keep me away from the Beach. Overnight, it had subsided to a blustery breeze. Far to the west, beyond the Bluff, the cloud blanket was torn to reveal ragged scraps of blue.
My legs yearned for a good stretch after a day of unaccustomed idleness. I plucked off my thongs, skipped down the weathered wooden steps like an eager girl and headed for the water.
There were quantities of seaweed on the formerly pristine sand. Not just clumps here and there, but a wide, rubbery carpet extending into the shallows as a brown soup. Underfoot it felt tepid and slippery — like walking on the backs of live fish. Yuck. I picked my way on the balls of my feet. This was not the walk I’d been looking forward to.
Eventually I was through the weed. The air was deliciously tangy with the aroma of kelp. The tickle in my sinuses was so intense, it was almost unbearable.
I noticed that there were transparent blobs everywhere: sea snail egg cases, I’d been told by a local. I had no desire to squish baby snails underfoot, so I walked around them, into the shallow water.
