Dolphin Address 17
April 20th 2005
The waves are jumping up out of nowhere today. As far as I can see there is a gentle ripple, a sea restlessly moving out of sight. Nothing that would warrant the pop-ups that start building about a 100 meters before the shore. They approach in single lines and stumble almost simultaneously in turquoise arches, pushing their madcap froth before them over the rebound of their predecessor.
Where the waves hit the terraces there are thudding sounds and sprays sometimes like geysers, leap to the sky, but on the stony beach the sound of the crashing waves is drowned out by the rumble of the stones. By the furious attacks of waves on rock chunks are split off and get to be processed in the stone mills. Roughly there are two versions. There is the stone bed, very smoothly rounded with bumps and deepenings, where the masses are hauled to and fro during the higher tides. And then there are the rock pools and pits, mostly on a higher level, where stones have been washed into holes that were ground out before and that are pretty reluctant in letting them go.
Sometimes they are surprisingly deep and hollowed out sideways as well. As soon as the tide comes in these mills start rolling their rocks. They seem to need the driving force of the wave level. Deeper water does not move the stones anymore, the depth varying with the strength of the wind, the swell, distant storm waves and the like.
On the stony beach, right behind the stone beds, virtually all stones have at least some measure of roundedness. The sizes range from a large marble to a max length of the most rounded ones of half a meter and are limited by the average power of the waves. Of course there are some gigantic exceptions. Time puts in a hand or two as well.
One wonders if the grinding would accelerate when the rock gets rounder. Does it roll over easier or does the water loose its grip? They are so smooth and silken these modified monoliths. They have a human touch, not only physical, they are merely a thought away from contemplation. Never realized a rock could be an alternative for a hard place.
Jan Ploeg, Fanore meadow, April 20th 2005
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