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This morning, I began my true career as a rock hopper. I now travel mostly on my feet, stepping confidently on lines of jagged rock edges and across smooth rounded rocks with slate blue patterns, blurred at the edges. I can't say I'm bounding yet, but I'm not reduced to so much bottom-wriggling, unless I'm descending into the sand to cross a rocky chasm.

The sea seems to be resentful of my interest in boundary rock pools, or maybe just keen on reminding me of its power. Whenever I get set to crouch close to the edge, enchanted by a forest of crimson and green sea anemones, a set rolls in, gurgling through narrow spaces and hurling splash up as high as my waist. I don't mind getting wet, but I tend to be a bit protective of the camera. After all, it sees more than I do and I need it to show me things I miss.

However, I did manage to capture a good collection of crimson anemones and a few green ones. The bright sun and the sea splashes lured them into bloom, and suddenly pools were full of their tentacles. I'm waiting for a still, waveless day when I can paddle round the rocks in a pair of old sand shoes and shorts. For now, I'm content with this collection of flower-like predatory animals.


For a quick glance at the range of anemones beyond five rock pools on the north end of Potato Point beach, have a look at