Excerpt:
“The tide was coming in. It was late February. The beach eroded around and beneath you. A simple misstep off the slimy rocks or embedded jumble of jagged-edged timber or getting caught in the sinewy, bulbous sea grass and you ‘d be sucked easily into the fearsome undercurrent. The rough pounding and spreading burst of cold surf along the Straits of Juan de Fuca were relentless.”
