The nomadic winds cooed under the wide sky, roving through the floral escapade towing me toward the sea. Deepening my aloneness, the shallow cool of the setting sun devoured my slouched shoulders as I watched a rich white blanket of cloud engulf the horizon – cold set in. The ground catching my trembling feet pulling me away from the crashing sea in what felt like a hurricane under my bare legs.

Staring at the tower of rock laid ahead darkening my path to its bottom. The oceans presence conjuring deep seated discomfort overcoming my trembling figure: 

Never have I felt content by the sea, it is as though we are by the ends of both earth and ocean but when on the edge leaving it carries fear. 

Trailing through the shallow brush, my feet out of my sight, swallowed in the floral sea of native beard-heath scaring my dry shins with vibrant scabs.

Warm blood trickling – slowly – down my leg colouring my light woollen socks with deep red stains. My sight drifts off my feet causing a gentle stumble as I near the edge of the towering wall – its shadow making my skin speckle.

Up.

The blankness of my mind, numb to thoughtless thought screaming with a wild untamed urge to climb. Fearing another snake hiding in the rocks crevasses I set one foot, one hand, one foot, one hand; up I climbed. Holding the shifting rocks, fearless, I rose above the sea. 

Staring down I could feel the rising waves following my lead – up – swallowing the land I was only just standing.

Camp is not far.