The salty sea air rushes up your nostrils at the same time as your legs encounter the burning sensation synonymous with a steep descent. You feel liberated with the wild, rushing wind in your eyes and the crashing of waves in your ears. Then, beneath your feet, you feel the sticky gelatinous mass of the wet sand, conjuring up images of rainy childhood holidays spent shivering under an umbrella or hood, eating gritty hard-boiled eggs.
Venturing further along the meeting point of land and sea, you find yourself amid a mass of shiny, squelching rocks. It takes every available element of concentration not to fall while travelling over their treacherous forms.
Occasionally, the cold water of the ocean rushes upon your reddened feet, sucking at your heels as it tries to first push you from its path before endeavouring to force you further into its mysterious realm.
A sense of longing takes hold with the waves and an urge to run-swim for the far off horizon creeps over you. All you can think is: ‘I want what is out there. I want to see what’s beyond that never ending line. I want to be there, astride it and behind it.’
But you don’t move. You stay, with your cold white calves deep in the mushy kelp and think about what could be.
©Davey Northcott 2014
If you enjoyed this, check out my new release, ‘The Path Through the Eye of Another’