NONSUCH 



of seaweed, so close in physical space have the plants 

 of sea and land approached. 



I found an easier descent and climbed painfully- 

 over the needle sharp points, rough carved by the 

 acids of the water and sharpened by the emery of 

 shifting sand and wind. A projecting pinnacle gave 

 suddenly and I tore my shirt and the skin within. 

 As I approached the great curving, green surges 

 my enthusiasm for a direct undeviating path be- 

 came moderated, and crab-wise I sidled into a deep, 

 narrow canyon floored with sand. At the moment I 

 dropped to the welcome softness, a curling, roar- 

 ing mass of foam and green shreds of water tore 

 around a bend, undermined my footing as if it had 

 been quicksand, and I was flung to my knees. I 

 staggered upright, turned to offer my side to the 

 wash, and instantly was buried in a smother of fly- 

 ing spume from the opposite direction, thrown back 

 from the impact on the rocks. Nose, eyes, ears were 

 filled with the stinging sand-roiled salt water and 

 I climbed several feet up the sharp points to get my 

 breath. The smashing blow and the rebound had 

 come too quickly to be avoided, and the first round 

 belonged quite conclusively to the sea. 



Still preferring the sand-floored gully to a pre- 

 carious, barbed-wire descent from a rock, I retraced 

 my steps to the head of the narrow gorge and began 

 anew, gripping the roughnesses as I walked knee- 

 deep through the swirling half -sand, half -water. At 

 every step I passed the tight-clinging, vacuumed 

 limpets, winkles, and chitons, and here and there 



80 



