St Philips

Watching and waiting had ceased. Warm comfort exchanged for the coolness; as the Atlantic quickly radiated through my kayak. Hail danced on the three winds of the day. Loud on my hood and deck on the S wind; then suddenly stinging my eyes and cheeks on a NE gust. Squinting I pulled up my face mask and wished I had brought sun glasses...... In my defense I didn't think sunglasses would be required.

  The air fresh. The sea aerated itself into a light blue along the shore. Dislodged icicles thumped off the hull; as fog danced above to the uncertain and ever changing winds. The weather reports had of course announced these winds and conditions. However it was the things they left out that had me here.

They didn't mention the ice covered pebbles that slid my craft ashore for a coffee. They had warned about the traffic collisions; yet didn't mention how walls of mist would be blowing out Conception bay along the southerly gusts. While tragedy and peril broadcasted elsewhere on repeat; I had tuned out. My legs twitched in the cold; I stuck one arm inside my PFD next to the warmth of my body. No peril or tragedy to be found.

Roe poured out of a old spineless green urchin I smashed on a rock. A meal I have been meaning to have. Aside from throwing them at each other as children we never did bother with them otherwise. It was virtually unknown as a food source at that time. A meal to try later.

A culture of fear exist on newscasts. Full of warnings and foreshadowing to a climax of nothingness. 

No weather forecast would ever describe the sounds and feelings of these minutes. The seconds between the hail. The soundtrack of roaring waves and howling wind.

Tomorrow is beautiful.