Waves thud against the flat, gently sloping, sedimentary rocks, a continuous pounding. They sculpt the rock, but they also mold me as a person. They help build character as they roll beneath the hull of my kayak. I've felt the serenity of placid moments, the fear of sudden, unexpected gusts, and the thrill of hill-sized swells. I have emerged as a stronger, fuller person by listening to these waves. Their sound and their motion flows through me, like the flow of blood through my veins and arteries. It is like a living, breathing, pulsing being. It is the Atlantic Ocean.


The ocean is a powerful place. The smell of salty brine, the cold feel of splashing waves, the taste of salt upon my lips, it's part of the reason why I'm here. Today, the ocean was too powerful a place for me. I sat beside the ocean, and rock hopped over sedimentary rocks, the symmetrical branching ripples as clearly visible as ripples on a calm day at a sandy beach. I saw brown siltstone with mudcracks filled with debris. These sedimentary rocks are not typical of "The Rock". I have paddled past endless kilometers of volcanic and metamorphic rocks, but here on the Conche Peninsula, a unique geological picture is clearly evident.

Today I saw the finer details of the land I paddle past, day after day, week after week, month after month. I saw the textures of the rock, the ripples and polygonal patterns, the fine layers. I saw the colourful solipsism of yellow and orange lichen blotching these rocks and the hardy plants that have taken root amongst these rocks in summertime bloom including sedums, harebells, sea vetch and others that I couldn't identify.

I watched the wind race over the water, rippling it like the ripples in the rock. I saw the symmetry in Nature, the patterns and textures with open eyes. The exquisite beauty here is almost infinite. I'm glad I could enjoy this beauty as the wind blew over the ocean and kept my kayak resting on a lawn in Conche. I saw it from a different perspective, a land perspective.

Wind is predicted yet again for tomorrow. This is not typical for July in Newfoundland. I've been told that since I arrived here in Conche, the wind has started to blow. It's been settled here for weeks on end. I must wonder. Maybe I should stop telling the people I meet, "Look what the wind blew in!".

Resting at Bridget Carroll's place suits me fine. I'll launch when it's time.