I was walking along the beach, the tide was well out and while I may have been engaging in a little daydreaming, as I looked inland at the towering cliffs I did wonder where I would run to if a tsunami hit our shores. Maybe I would experience a sudden adrenalin rush and be able to climb the cliff face and manage to scramble past the rubbish dump where seagulls screeched incessantly as they scrounged for scraps to the safety of the farm.
It had only been in the previous week that a sea lion had chased a horse exercising on the sand. The stables situated a mile or two outside the town frequently gave their charges a run on the sand as it strengthened their leg muscles. It wasn’t only the danger of a tsunami I needed to watch out for, but also an attack by a sea lion. That thought was only momentary. There is little sense in indulging in a little panic attack if danger is not immediate. I didn’t like sea lions and should one come pounding up the beach I would simply turn tail and head back to the safety of the motel.
It was a lovely late summer’s day, and I was taking my daily stroll to the restaurant that over-looked the ocean. Once there I would climb the wooden steps, wander into the tearooms and order a coffee and a cake. Most days I sat in a window seat and scribbled notes about the birds or the flora and fauna on this coastal strip for the magazine I freelanced for. There was no sign of the breakers rushing out a mile so I realised that thoughts of a tsunami were ill founded, and by now I was back onto an area with no cliffs.
Beyond I could see the main highway and the main trunk railway line. The sand ran a long way back at this point as it followed the banks of a small creek. Usually I jumped from one little sand island to the next, but today the creek was running fuller … there had been rain overnight. It was a case of taking off my shoes and carrying them, laces tied together, and slung over my shoulder.
A pale skinned youth dressed in black swim shorts suddenly appeared from out of the lupines. In my reverie I hadn’t noticed him. I murmured, “Nice day”, to him as he walked by, restraining a smile as he high stepped on the warm sand. I didn’t think he was a ‘beach person’, but it was obvious he was making the most of the warm day.
A dog is what everyone needs when they go for a walk along an almost deserted beach. It gives a reason for conversation, but not having a dog for company, I resorted to talking to myself. I must add that I do not normally talk to myself! I may on the odd occasion, but there is always a good reason! I was trying to puzzle out what those fish were frolicking in the shallows. There were quite a few swimming and diving on the now incoming tide.
“Shark! Shark!” the cry came from the pale skinned youth as he hurriedly high stepped over the sand towards the car that I hadn’t previously noticed parked beyond the dunes. His swim shorts were still dry … poor lad; he hadn’t even put a toe into the briny. He almost ran past me and I notice his face was even whiter than his body, and I was almost positive there were a tear or two squeezing from the corner of his eyes.
“Where?” I asked. I wondered if perhaps I had spent too much time worrying about tsunamis or sea lions when the real danger was sharks.
He never replied as he moved towards his folk’s car, and safety from monsters of the deep.
I peered towards the ocean and found I had to take of my glasses to wipe them as a sea fog had swept in from beyond the horizon. I could see no shark. Surely he wasn’t hallucinating? Maybe he feared sharks, as much as I feared being caught by a tsunami in a spot where there was no quick path to escape?
Through the haze I noticed the fish frolicking, and now that I was closer I could easily see they were dolphins. Dolphins often came close in and played in the water, showing off to the audience they invariably gathered.
It had only been in the previous week that a sea lion had chased a horse exercising on the sand. The stables situated a mile or two outside the town frequently gave their charges a run on the sand as it strengthened their leg muscles. It wasn’t only the danger of a tsunami I needed to watch out for, but also an attack by a sea lion. That thought was only momentary. There is little sense in indulging in a little panic attack if danger is not immediate. I didn’t like sea lions and should one come pounding up the beach I would simply turn tail and head back to the safety of the motel.
It was a lovely late summer’s day, and I was taking my daily stroll to the restaurant that over-looked the ocean. Once there I would climb the wooden steps, wander into the tearooms and order a coffee and a cake. Most days I sat in a window seat and scribbled notes about the birds or the flora and fauna on this coastal strip for the magazine I freelanced for. There was no sign of the breakers rushing out a mile so I realised that thoughts of a tsunami were ill founded, and by now I was back onto an area with no cliffs.
Beyond I could see the main highway and the main trunk railway line. The sand ran a long way back at this point as it followed the banks of a small creek. Usually I jumped from one little sand island to the next, but today the creek was running fuller … there had been rain overnight. It was a case of taking off my shoes and carrying them, laces tied together, and slung over my shoulder.
A pale skinned youth dressed in black swim shorts suddenly appeared from out of the lupines. In my reverie I hadn’t noticed him. I murmured, “Nice day”, to him as he walked by, restraining a smile as he high stepped on the warm sand. I didn’t think he was a ‘beach person’, but it was obvious he was making the most of the warm day.
A dog is what everyone needs when they go for a walk along an almost deserted beach. It gives a reason for conversation, but not having a dog for company, I resorted to talking to myself. I must add that I do not normally talk to myself! I may on the odd occasion, but there is always a good reason! I was trying to puzzle out what those fish were frolicking in the shallows. There were quite a few swimming and diving on the now incoming tide.
“Shark! Shark!” the cry came from the pale skinned youth as he hurriedly high stepped over the sand towards the car that I hadn’t previously noticed parked beyond the dunes. His swim shorts were still dry … poor lad; he hadn’t even put a toe into the briny. He almost ran past me and I notice his face was even whiter than his body, and I was almost positive there were a tear or two squeezing from the corner of his eyes.
“Where?” I asked. I wondered if perhaps I had spent too much time worrying about tsunamis or sea lions when the real danger was sharks.
He never replied as he moved towards his folk’s car, and safety from monsters of the deep.
I peered towards the ocean and found I had to take of my glasses to wipe them as a sea fog had swept in from beyond the horizon. I could see no shark. Surely he wasn’t hallucinating? Maybe he feared sharks, as much as I feared being caught by a tsunami in a spot where there was no quick path to escape?
Through the haze I noticed the fish frolicking, and now that I was closer I could easily see they were dolphins. Dolphins often came close in and played in the water, showing off to the audience they invariably gathered.
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