We chose a secluded location at the far end of the beach and took a quick dip in the sea which reminded us that there was a thoughtless and inconsiderate tanker who cleaned its tanks in the water off the beach and Barry, Neil and Nicky got black, sticky oil on the bottoms of their feet. We had to change locations of the tents three times due to the wind. After our tents were almost blown up the mountain, we weighed them down with large rocks. Sitting around the fire in our bathing suits we ate our hot dinner, drank cold beer and soon were bracing ourselves for walls of sand. What was supposed to be a cool and refreshing breeze coming off the water ended up being an merciless, warm wind carrying beach sand along the side of the mountain and pummelling us approximately once every 10 minutes. We would first hear the sound of billions of grains of sand being carried along the side of the mountain and then looking up you could see it coming our way. The sand was sticking to every inch of us and all we could do was hold our breath and cover our faces until it passed. We decided to take cover in our tents. Between attacks I was brushing the sand off my feet before getting into the tent and Barry yelled “Get in, get in! It’s coming!” I lunged into the tent and quickly reached for the zipper which was supposed to stop any chance of sand getting in. I soon discovered the tent was not the sand-free sanctuary I thought it was. The humidity was off the charts and because of the heat Barry and I laid on the air mattress in such a way that no part of our skin was touching and as we laid there we wished to fall asleep before the next wall of sand.
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