It was barely 8 a.m. when we hit the beach near Fish Haul Creek on a cold January morning. The wind was howling out of the north at 25 mph, making our eyes tear and faces sting.
The dry surface sand of the beach was moving swiftly past our feet like a white river that we were wading through; if you watched the ground as you walked, you were overtaken by a feeling of vertigo.
Better to look ahead, to peer through the fog of blowing sand and try to locate the reason we were subjecting ourselves to these very un-tropical conditions.