Thar She Blows

Headlights on a distant hill drew my attention. The lighthouse was busy with cars. It was dusk on a cool and windy evening... it was mid-week. There could be only one reason for the numerous headlights - the blowhole was showing off. My blinking indicator showed my intention as my car pulled off into the turning lane. By the time I reached the blowhole, there were only a handful of locals. I was greeted with the screams of a boy, still in his school uniform. He screamed again - delight and excitement in his high-pitched sounds. He was standing by the fence and was being sprayed by wave after wave of cold sea water. The water was rushing under the rocks. It was hurtled into the air, where the gale-force winds whipped it across the car parks. A briny smell filled the air and a grin spread across my work-weary face. The winds lashed my face, stray strands of hair whipping my cheeks. Giant waves kept rolling in as the sky darkened against the night. I turned my back on the blowhole, a smile on my face and returned to my car to continue my journey home.