Frequent storms and thaws have pushed a part of the upper grounds into
these gorges, and so their steep slope has grown less abrupt, and one is
able to climb down to the bottom. We attempted to do so by sliding down
like children, holding ourselves back with our hands and feet, and
finally we landed safely on the soft, wet sand.
The tide was going out, but in order to be able to pass, we had to wait
until the breakers receded. We watched them approach us. They dashed
against the rocks, swirled in the crevices, rose like scarfs on the
wind, fell back in drops and sprays, and with one long, sweeping
libration, gathered their green waters together and retreated. When one
wave left the sand, its currents immediately joined, and sought lower
levels. The sea-weed moved its slimy branches; the water bubbled between
the pebbles, oozed through the cracks of the rocks and formed a thousand
rivulets and fountains. The drenched sand absorbed it all, and soon its
yellow tint grew white again through the drying action of the sun.
As soon as we could, we jumped over the rocks and continued on our way.
Soon, however, they increased in numbers, their weird groups being
crowded together, piled up and overturned on one another.
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