Marconi Beach: The Sea at Work
By Brenda Colwell | A Collection of Wanderings
Listen to this Essay:
Arriving just at sunset, we are greeted with a stunning rainbow even as Marconi Beach rages beneath, with a gale lashing the shoreline and the bluffs. We decide to risk it and go for a walk of sorts along the shore. The wind is blowing hard and pummels our face with bitter cold and fine sand, forcing us to close our eyes to avoid being blinded by the sting.
This would be a good time to turn around and go back inside. But, we made a big effort to get out here, donning three layers of clothing, our new toques, Charlie’s oversized gloves, and my favorite puffy with the deep hood, the kind that covers your face when the ocean throws fish dust and salt in your eyes. But we are both smiling and energized by the slightly risky, probably dumb excursion. How often do you get to walk sideways during a gale warning? And maybe the storm will send something amazing to the beach that I can photograph. Maybe a great white shark or a seal or a crazy jumping fish?
So we push against the hard gusts, eagerly leaning into the gale. When I can finally open my eyes to the action, I see massive surf-worthy waves thundering and folding over on themselves while building up a light whipped sea foam and creating an almost transparent mist. I imagine it is the microscopic remains of sea life; shells and coral; bones, that the ocean once held, now suspended in the air.
It is not the best time to wander and gaze at the ocean as the gale is nudging us to leave by issuing powerful gusts that reach 40 to 50 miles an hour. It is now a difficult angled walk, as we fight the headwind.
Just as I start to focus enough to admire and enjoy the magical scene, the storm roars, forcing me to lower my head, pull my hood tight, and turn again to the lee side. I am cold.
We are rewarded when the sky turns pink, then orange, witness to the Atlantic performing a deep cleaning: waves roaring, the beach churning everything. Even with our eyes closed most of the time, the effort is exhilarating as the waves crash revealing and re-burying the ocean’s gifts.
Buffeting my ears, the wind is so loud that I can hardly hear Charlie as he calls out something he’s seen in the distance. We are both smiling. Finally, we agree to surrender, retreating inland where humans belong on a night like this.
Later, after the fish dust is washed out of our eyes and we have warmed up with cocktails, we are delighted by our adventure and happy that we can still hear the ocean in the distance. She continues to do her work throughout the night while rocking our bus in a lullaby of disorder, giving us a great night’s sleep.
Tomorrow then.
CHOOSE YOUR NEXT WANDER
