Great angular blocks, layers and deposits form jagged cliff sides. Beyond, a tunnel has taken several millennia of carving with the pressures of a funnel to create. Waves of white foam wash through at high tide, torrential and potent, but they are slow, very slow to make a mark.
Among the dark wet rocks are chutes and whirlpools. Great waves are constantly changing their intensity, their track and their tack.
Submerged rocks can be clearly seen, exposed by a tidal current and then again, under masses of foam and crystal assure blue.
We wander down the beach in among the daily ritual of sunset, the rolling crests of foam form their pipe-like tunnels. Soon, they will be streaking across the deep shadows, making their own glow in the din with the moonlight and stars. Tonight, the lights of the Hotel Nude will provide a yellow hue, creating golden waves in black waters reflecting diamonds in dark skies.
Still endlessly hitting those cliffs and outcroppings, those chutes of water pound and thunder. Sometimes, they fan out, spraying higher than the spouts of great whales. A salty cloud of mist forms and we see it float to the sandy beach.
Where a rock sits exposed, launched by the power of a wave, grand fountains shoot high in remarkable swirls and twists.
They scatter and then return to the soft more quiet brine, now in their time, they are stretched out below.
We stand in the back splash from a resting power that has been spent on an assault at the sandy shore. Again and again, we hear thunder and power as nature plays and dances.
Drumming His Prayer
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