Finally, we reach the tide mark. White salt on black sand. Sea spray of fog-like proportions from the sheer pounding of the Tasman Sea. Disappearing footprints in the quicksand. Biting, whirling winds.


It reminds me of an old Crowded House song called Fingers of Love, which was incidently recorded in a house behind this beach. It captures the mood of this beach perfectly.

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