Walking on the Sea Bottom

With the moon so close right now, we are getting dramatic tides, and yesterday, I noticed the morning low tide was 0.16m, the lowest we've yet seen. Marcelle and I set out for Wick Beach to explore the rocks to the south of the visitor centre. We've been here before during low tides, but yesterday, the distance we had to walk to just reach the water was astounding! On one of the bigger rocks, which usually are just islands in the surf, two magnificent eagles perched, surveying the surrounding area with their steely gaze.

 

Trudging along the water's edge, and wading in the shallows, we could see red-shelled crabs doing their creepy, yet endearing sideways shuffle, and tiny flounder-like fish that fled from our path and then dove to the sand, becoming almost invisible. A huge living cable composed of multiple kelp strands, evidently spun and twirled by the action of the surf lay across our path, a testament to the power of the sea.

 

A flock of sandpipers foraged along the water's edge, dashing about on their stiff little legs like clockwork toys, poking their long bills into the sand in the eternal search for food. Then, in the blink of an eye, they erupted into flight as one entity, and careened off to some other patch of beach to try their luck there.

 

 

Amongst some detritus, I found a small, transparent jelly, its internal structure of ribbing barely discernable.

 

From here, we thought we'd try our luck at Florencia Bay, and drove over there and made our way down to the beach. Usually, at low tide, you can see some rocks on the beach at the north end of Wreck Beach, but today, the super-low tide exposed an enormous field of normally-submerged rocks, all covered with bright green plant life.

 

At the far end, the area around the iconic boulder that sits atop a rocky outcropping was exposed as we had never seen.

 

Looking up the beach from the water's edge, a marine Cousin Itt obligingly posing in the foreground, showed just how much area was exposed.

 

At one point, we found a wooden pallet that had become completely festooned with shellfish and worm-like plant life.

 

Here and there, I found tiny details that I captured in macro mode. A tightly packed grouping of muscles, each no bigger than the tip of my little finger. And smaller yet again, minute barnacles on their shells!

 

Or an industrious crab that would fit on a Twoony coin, scuttling backwards, creating a long, looping trail across the wet sand.

 

We were literally walking on the sea bottom, across an expanse that would normally be well under water, but for the forces of gravity that allowed our celestial dance partner to exert her pull and draw away an immense mass of water for our viewing pleasure. Life on the edge is a humbling experience.