Dripping wet but back to the (false?) safety of the shore, high up on the sand dunes looking back out to sea, I wished I had some fresh water to rinse my salt and sun crusted face and to clear my blood shot eyes. But mostly I was glad to be back on dry land. Something was coming from the West. Tsunamis, radiation, global warming, melting ice, rising sea levels, earthquakes, fracking induced disruptions, butterfly effects? The ocean’s inhabitants seemingly had had enough and they were letting us know, loud and clear. The sea was teeming with never seen before levels of activity. Dive bombing birds, charging sea lions, launching fish and then the whales. Up and down the coast, dozens of them. Erupting spouts, spraying the hazy air and then dissipating like formless ghosts, gargantuan mammalian bodies, breaching the water to silhouette against ominous skies. Cracking their goliath tails on the once glassy ocean surface, thunderous booms, echoing across vast distances, delayed by the speed of light, awakening what?

The sun, an ungodly orange waning before its time.

And then I had a beer and everything was fine.