When I get to the beach, the tide is still far enough out for all the rocks to be glittering, their coating of weed wet and bubbly, catching what little sun there is. Above the pool there’s a huge dark cloud, deep blue, pointed, so low to the horizon it seems to be balancing on the wall of the tide pool. As I walk out, chalk beds protrude from the sand on one side and long strands of weed wash beneath the surface on the other. The water here is milky with chalk.
I lower myself down the ladder and into the cold and I swim toward the cloud. The cliffs and the buildings seem tiny from here, where water stretches huge and empty around me. I touch the other side, turn back. This way the view is entirely different - the sun paints the water silver, blue, swirls and ripples that shift as I move through them. My hands make circles and the water shushes. When I reach the ladder again, I see clusters of limpets on the concrete walls, a thick wallpaper of green silky haired seaweed.
Back on the beach, I follow the bottom of the cliffs. Already the tide is starting to come in, swallowing the shining rock pools. The next bay along has a ramp down to the beach, but the sand is so high the railing disappears into it only half way down. The sand covers the path, too, at the back of the bay. I walk by the water instead as it rushes in, slides back, painting white lace on the wet packed sand.
I find a chalk pebble with a hole washed right through, a hag stone; some say that looking through the hole will show you another world. Like all things, the meanings are many, different depending on who you ask; some say looking through the hole will reveal the disguise of a witch or fairy, some that these holey stones will heal snake bites. I find another round piece of chalk, its edges spikey, and wash it in the waves. When the gravel is cleared away, I can see the barnacles that have clustered like crowns on one corner. The water has loosened the surface of the chalk and my fingers are white and wet with it. I turn back, past white cliffs, geometric crevices stained black and grey, to the pool. The tide is in now, water threatening to break over the wall, to submerge it entirely. The glittering pools, the reef of rocks, the strands of seaweed are gone, swallowed by this tide until the next one spits them back again.
I never knew they were called hag stones! I like the idea they’ll show you another world 🗺️ I’ll tell Liv this I think!