The umbrellas and loungers are busy. They are for sun protection and resting, not for sunbathing. There are also boogie boards for hire. People are munching on snacks. The black crows still look hopeful.
The surf is now crowded with people. There are a few sari-clad women and a few girls in shorts and tops, but it is mainly the men who bathe in the sea. Everybody is clothed. There is shouting and cheering, jumping and diving. There is also whistling, from the beach stewards in their blue uniforms. This can be a dangerous beach, so the signs tell us.
I climb to the top of the lighthouse. The last part is up a ladder. A young girl is coaxed up by her father (pulling from above) and her mother (pushing from below). With bare feet and sweating hands I don’t feel altogether comfortable myself.
From the top I can see the waves falling on the beach and there seems to be an undercurrent there. Maybe the stewards have a point.
From the Lighthouse