I wake up this morning upon a beach
I dreamt of private things last night and thus awoke in a thoughtful mood. The waves marched in the twilight, and the faintest pink began to convert the black waves to first cobalt-laced with mercury, followed by a subtle green-turquoise trimmed with mica.
I find the first light of day brings out the most delicious smells of nature – a measure of salt and ocean with the unmistakable sweet and sour of the forest. Fortunately this overpowered my own un-showered scent. At some point during the night, the waves got within 30 feet of my spot on the edge of the forest. As the heat of the first rays poked over the point, the marine smell became nearly overwhelming. In the not-so-distant campsite I smelled the school kids cooking. I made breakfast on some granite rocks next to another tea tree stained stream. In a delightful, and what some would no doubt consider immature manner, I decided to race my stove pots from the top of the stream to the ocean waves. It was a close race, but Slightly Scuffed beat out Crusty Burn Marks by a wide margin in the last quarter of a race. For a few brief seconds I went back in time to my childhood memories on the beach and the hours of joy spent playing in the sand.
I packed up and continued up and down the valleys and ridges of a lost world. Upon reaching Sealers Cove, I took a break, unlaced the boots, grabbed an apple and walked into the surf munching the crisp fruit with great satisfaction. Gum-green bluffs surrounded me, and the water continued to be its insatiable turquoise blue. My feet hurt, but I felt I had exorcised the ghosts of my previous, trying trip to Wilson’s Prom. I turned regretful, but happy, and marched the last 10 km through swamp and foothills to the car park in which Amelia waited to pick me up. I was told I looked remarkably well for covering 60 km in 49 hours and 25 min.