Low tide, minus one point two
The tide tables had this one circled for a month. Minus tides in early September land at a civilised hour here, and a −1.2 opens up the lower shelf that is usually under a metre of surge.
I got there at 6:15 with a headlamp I didn't need for long. The first twenty minutes are always the best: the rock is still streaming, and everything that lives low is briefly, grudgingly exposed.
Lower shelf
Ochre sea stars in purple and orange clumps, more than last year, which is good news after the wasting years. Giant green anemones closed up into rubbery knobs, a few still open in the deeper pools with that unreal green. Under one overhang, a single Hermissenda, the striped nudibranch, no longer than my thumbnail. I spent fifteen minutes lying on wet rock to see it properly and was soaked to the hip.
Two black oystercatchers patrolled the edge, shouting at each other and at me. Their bills are the exact red of a traffic cone.
Rules I keep
- Step on bare rock, not on anything living.
- Turn rocks back the way you found them, slowly.
- Never turn your back on the water during a minus tide; the sets still come in.
By 7:40 the shelf was gone again. The whole window is about ninety minutes, which is part of why it feels like a visit rather than a walk.