Unbeatable

The waves were strong and relentless. Along the shoreline, they were picking up logs and hauling them out to sea, only to toss them back on the rocks with the next roller, like so many sticks from a game of pick-up-sticks.

Five logs on the way out.

With each wave, the stones on the beach rattled and rumbled, rolling down, being thrown back up. An unexpectedly high wave pulled the stones out from under my feet, tossing me back on my tail end in the wet. It was lucky for me that the stones felt soft, as they slid loosely in the surf. I was not hurt, much.

And coming back in.

And yet ... and yet ... Among the rolling stones, I find fragile pieces of shell, sea critters, even spider webs, holding their own against the pounding waves.

Molted carapace of a small kelp crab.

Soft sponge

So fragile! A piece of hydrocoral, tangled with seaweeds. Found half-buried in rolling stones.

Molted piece of crab belly plate.

And last, above the reach of the waves at the moment, but still within their spray zone, an old stump, torn and battered, and sheltering, among other things, a community of spiders.

These shells and stone were at my elbow height above the beach, and above the high tide line. Somehow they've been tossed up here, out of the reach of most waves. And if you look closely, there are at least two spider webs tying the stump together. I'm not sure, but I think there's a greyish spider in the centre of the main one. Do you see it?

I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, ... ; but time and chance happeneth to them all. Ecclesiastes 9:11, KJV (just because I like the KJV language.)