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The sea crashes and slurrs. Seagulls call harshly. There’s an occasional startling explosion as foot inadvertently steps on stranded bluebottle; the gentler brief sniffing of a curious dog; the murmur of an exchange that’s becoming routine: “Isn’t it a perfect day?” “Yes, but we so badly need rain.”
The tide is low and the sun warm, and there’s a tantalising spread of sand between the tideline and the rocky outcrop that looks like the pyramidaical slabs of a South American temple. “Aha!” says J as I catch up. “Today we get to see what lies around that corner. Any guesses?”
I’d be mad to attempt a guess. There is absolutely no predictability about these rocky outcrops that have colonised our beaches, our weekends and our minds. As for understanding the geological processes that made them thusly, or even the names of the rock materials – hope on.
But ignorance can’t spoil wonder at what appears around the corner: a rockscape of canyons, nooks and caverns.
Fountains of grass and cascades of succulents accessorise the rockface, which has many subtle beauties of its own.
High above on the cliff a farmer lays tumbledown claim right up to the very edge.
Such solid masonry of rock, sometimes rumpled and wrinkled, sometimes layered chunks, sometimes crannied, mostly tilted, and dare I say it yet again? Totally unlike anything we’ve seen before.
Look south across a vast expanse of sand: there is no sign of the grandeur of the slabby rocks, the caverns, the cliffs, the canyons: they have all disappeared back into undistinguished flatness.
To see Wallaga Beach before you head around the rocks, click here.
I began writing this nearly a month ago: since then we’ve had good rain, so the greeting has changed to “Wasn’t the rain wonderful?”
Such a fabulous bit of coastline you have! I almost missed this one, and that would have been such a waste. I love the nonchalant lady with the hat. I really aught to borrow it because my hair is terribly raggy from an excess of wonderful weather. 🙂 🙂 And there’s a rock that looks like it has 2 clenched fists, and so many that look like my very own Algarve. And the writing is beautiful, as Tish says. When I came home and turned the calender over I discovered your November birthdate- too late! I shall have to be better organised next year.
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I don’t know if you follow Liz in South Africa, but she has a lovely description of the geology in that part of the world in her recent post: https://natureontheedge.com/2017/11/19/fish-river-canyon-where-time-is-written-in-the-rocks/
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Thanks, my friend. A completely spectacular place. Have you been there?
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I have been lucky enough to have travelled through Namibia and to this canyon. I didn’t climb down though, that scree looks far too treacherous. I blogged about the trip on Travel Words.
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That blue rock intrigues me Meg. What is It?
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No idea, I’m sorry. And I don’t know enough to speculate. And the rocks and minerals book is at J’s – it’s more use there. In short, I’m a geological ignoramus!
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I’d have my hands all over these rocks Meg, stroking to feel all the different textures. And I’d love a rock garden like that, I’ve never seen anything quite like it!
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I spent the weekend collecting rock gardens especially for you. I’d just started feeling Rocks myself and thinking texture was revealing secrets, when I discovered geological texture means something different: what, I can’t quite remember. “I don’t know” and “I can’t quite remember” are becoming common refrains! Launch yourself into a joyous week as I enter the gloom of fasting.
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Sometimes your beaches remind me of my beaches, even, on this occasion, down to the vygies tumbling down the cliff. Here they are being removed in places as they are destroying the habitat of native flora.
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We have five species of pigface / vygies(?) native to coastal Australia. I hope I can therefore love them without fear! There’s also an inland one. You’re right: sometimes your beaches remind me of mine!
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…. and you are the subject of a ‘One’, as lone woman walking on deserted beach, Meg!
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I’m getting a bit lavish with photos of myself, now J carries a camera – mainly to photograph from vantage points I don’t dare.
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Well, go for it!
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Such vivid writing here, Meg. A sea that slurs as wells crashes. Rocks with grassy accessories.
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Thank you for commenting on the writing. This piece took so long in the making because it was something I worked over in my writing week with my friend, trying to inject a bit of variety into my beach posts. Finally, of course, I just accepted it was time to stop fussing!
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That’s always a hard point to recognise – the fuss-stops-here. Keep up the good work!
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