The sand of Coal Mine Beach in Walpole is course. Not so much so that it is unpleasant to walk on, however, its roughness comfortably exfoliates my feet as I push them into the wet sand on the water’s edge. Walpole sits on an inlet within an inlet creating, in effect, what looks like a saltwater lake. The wind blows hard from the southeast, white-capping the small waves that brush the beach. The geography and the subtropical look of the foliage that surrounds it gives the area an "Island of Dr. Moreau" feel to it or perhaps the secret inlet where Captain Nemo kept the Nautilus.
To my left sits the Walpole Yacht Club. Nothing bigger than a wind-surfer sails out of it. There are only three boats on the water – two moored 50 yards off the beach and one in the distance, too far away to hear the motor.
I was eaten by bugs tonight for the first time on the trip. However, it wasn’t so much the bites that bothered me, but the incessant buzzing in my ears despite my mosquito net. It drove me mad until I doubled-up my net protection with some deet. Despite the protection, they still got one square inch of my arm 11 times. Looks like I’m bug spraying up from now on.