The beach is a stimulating in its varied texture. Even in Bermuda we notice the tang in the air as we approach the beach. We walks from coarse sand to smooth, from dry sand to wet. The water is cold initially, but soon feels warmer and luxurious in its massage of our skin. The sun plays in and out of the clouds, warming exposed skin as the winter breeze chills it. The fine salt spray dries on our skin and lips, the wind whipping whorls of sand to sting at our calves.

The beach is full of life. Sandpipers run to and fro like little wind-up toys, curious and wary at the same time. Crabs scuttle for cover as we approach. The sand gives up impressions of life from a running child's footprint, a dog's heavy paw, an adult's peaceful tread, and the sandpipers' trace racing lightly everywhere between. Portuguese Man-o'-War lay stranded, their turgid blue-purple and pink translucent float sacs helpless under the unrelenting bleaching sun.

As we continue to walk, we encounter the soft, bright green algaes on rocks exposed at low tide, lying flat like wet hair to prevent drying-out. Normally we are used to seeing a blue-grey, green-grey or white on stripped beach rock, however when the rock formations of this beach are denuded they are often a most un-Bermudian bright blue below the sand and green algae line from cyanobacteria.