I walked along the one-way street towards the beckoning ocean and admired the wide spectrum of pastel colors which accentuated the twists of the road. The clear skies and crisp winter air grasped me in its arms and I smiled as I heard the unfamiliar Afrikaans being spoken. Although so foreign to my ears, the warmth of the people made it seem so familiar. Perhaps this can be accounted to Mossel Bay possessing so many similarities to my hometown. Upon reaching the shoreline, I nestled and wiggled my toes into the sand – I found comfort in such a small moment. I was far from home but the sand still felt like the soft, grainy texture that I had encountered many times in my life. The Point is the rocky coast carved masterfully by the mighty Atlantic with its incessant, choppy waveforms. The water called me and I answered – I was here; the journey into the blue abyss was still an adventure that lie before me however.
As I journey onward, I realized The Point offers a sharp transition from the gentle sand in which your footprints melt like quicksand to a crunchy, shell encrusted shoreline. As I would soon discover, the sea does not touch the shells or the sand unless during high tide but rather bounces between the crevices of the rock perimeter. The brightly spouting waves thrust through the rocks as if resembling the spray from a blowhole. Tantalizing lilac and magenta shells flood the pools that the landscape had so masterfully created. As the waves come in, gently foaming and bubbling they cast an iridescence onto the rocks. On the opposite end of beach, two locals molded the most intricate sandcastles. I watch as one of the men splashes one of his creations with sea water. It was a crocodile lying upon a bed of seaweed, each scale of the amphibian looking more divine than the next. Each sand sculpture embellished with scriptures and prophecies to help lead the mind down the path of righteousness.
In the distance, surfers wait in the lineup for the ocean to showcase their glory in a corduroy of swells. Some took on the challenge of tackling barrel waves while others chose to ride into the shore break. What a metaphor for life itself.
Shrieks of laughter erupted from the main road and I watched the boys from the nearby primary school strip off their uniform, drop their bags and scurry into the water. The sensation of the cool, winter waters against their glowing, sun kissed skin from the unusually hot day seemed to offer them the same joy I felt touching sand. The Point provided each one of us something we did not know we needed until that moment: promise and comfort.
ALL PHOTOS TAKEN AND OWNED BY AUTHOR UNLESS OTHERWISE STATED.