Yesterday’s tide was extreeemely low. Not low enough to worry about tidal waves, but lower than I’ve ever seen it. I walked down to the beach from my sister’s house and perched on my favorite rock, the one that has a great vantage point and you can see into the water in two separate coves from it. I like to stare down into the water and watch the shifting sands below me, and see the fishies and seaweed and the water as it fades from clear to light blue to dark blue as it gets deeper. This time though, it looked like it was clear for quite a ways out, and I was drifting into thoughts of next summer, and skimming along the bottom with my goggles on so I can check out the shells up close. There were people there, too, who were swimming and playing in the surf. I’m assuming they were from Alaska, because I was barely warm enough just sitting there in the sun and wearing a sweatshirt. I climbed down to the smaller cove and walked south, marveling at how freaking far out the tide was. I could see things I’d never seen before, and also I couldn’t believe how easy it was to get from one cove to the next. These are places where I’ve been severely bruised while trying to get from one cove to the next, getting knocked over and scraped against the rocks by the waves. The next cove had Alaskans in it too, just out there in the water like it’s not freezing or anything.
The caves that I like to explore at the end of 10th street beach are different every time I go to them. They sometimes have sand all the way up to their opening and all the way through them. This time, they were cleared of almost all of the sand and just had deep blue tidepools with fish in them. I was of course compelled to climb all around in the caves, and found myself wondering why I’d wandered so far when the first cove was just as interesting. I guess that’s just what you do at low tide.