Thousand Islands, but Not the Dressing

Today we (meaning my dad, Carver, and I) went for a walk to get out of the house for a while and so we went along the beach. Though you must understand, that it was not the usual shore we walked on, it was dry rocks or sand. There was not a large portion of the beach left, in fact it was much smaller than yesterday. The storm had arrived, but not the kind you would think of; it was a wind storm. Much like when we were on Muizenberg beach, the sand was pelting our legs. Occasionally we would meet a spot where sand was removed from the ground and water was flowing through, because the wind made the waves high, some might think it was high tide!

Before, when walking the beach, we could see a wall built out into water that blocked the waves. Between the wall and the shore were two boats tied down on the sand. Today we found that one of the two boats was tied at the shore and the wall. You are probably curious “boats, who cares.” Well, now these boats were in or very close to being in water. We watched and saw the one tied to each end was rocking as the powerful waves crashed over the walls.

Also while walking we heard that as the waves retreated it pulled the rocks back. If you can, try to imagine the sound as they rolled past the ones firmly planted. The edges of the waves that are usually green, were black. The sea, which some times is ever so flat, was rough with the wind. Today it was like a new sea.

Yesterday Carver and I enjoyed making a paste from crushed rocks at the beach. Today the saved paste was washed away with the waves.

The beach was soon at an end. Ahead we saw stairs. We took them to a new level though still along the beach. It was a new perspective. We saw a cove filled with water to an extent that, I would guess, was unusual. We passed and then rose once more to a rocky level. We walked along and found a high platform where the waves were so strong they were soaking the edges.

Another discovery was a tunnel that was intentionally filled. Soon we headed back. We turned into a church lot on the way home.

We were soon home with storm blown hair.