The water at the foot of the rocks is incredibly blue, striated in bands of deepening colour. No one is here but us. We scope it out and decide to go in from the stone jetty cut out of the cliff rather than off the unpredictable rocks with an unknown amount of their uneven edges hidden beneath the surface.
After a mistaken detour down a very steep, very boggy path, we come out where we were aiming for. The morning is still fresh and early and the water feels cold. It is immediately deep and we duck under a weed-infested rope mooring a fishing boat to the bay. Once out in the perfect blue pool, it is perfect. Waves break out at sea telling of submerged rocks hiding there. Paddling to the other side of the rocky bay, we find shelves of rock not far from the surface, perfect to sit on while the water washes at waist level.
Beneath the surface the water is dark green and clouded with silt. The visibility is nothing to what we’ve seen elsewhere, but it feels wild in this spot, black cliffs rising above us on three sides like a cradle. The sun sends distinct shoots down to us, rays that play across the surface like spotlights. It’s only when we’re out and changed and walking along the cliffs to marvel at the sculptural cliffs and perfect beaches that we see other people. Later on, I’m sure, a spot as lovely as this will be crowded. I feel very lucky to have had it to ourselves, just for a little bit.
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