The Cliff of Etretat

The call of the sea drew me south from the highlands of Scotland across green fields and quiet towns past forests and rivers until at last I stood upon the shores of Normandy where the cliffs of Étretat rise like the broken teeth of some giant beast turned to stone beneath the endless sky

The journey had been long and my boots worn thin by the miles but when I saw those white cliffs standing sentinel against the gray and restless sea I felt my weariness fall away The wind that met me carried the sharp taste of salt and the cry of gulls wheeling high above The sky was wide and pale streaked with cloud the sea below churned with foam and spray and the cliffs gleamed in the wan light of the setting sun

I found a narrow path that led along the edge of the cliffs the grass thick and green beneath my feet the earth crumbling in places where the sea's hunger had bitten deep I walked slowly the wind pressing at my back the sound of the waves far below like the roar of a thousand voices I paused often to gaze out over the water where the horizon blurred into mist and the world seemed endless and without border

As I walked I came upon the great arch of stone carved by wind and wave over countless years The sea rushed through it its voice loud in the hollow chamber the spray rising like smoke I stood watching as the tide came in the water dark and cold the foam bright as snow against the rock The gulls cried and the wind sang through the arch and I felt as if I stood at the very edge of the world

That night I camped upon the cliffs where the grass was soft and the sky was deep with stars I built a small fire sheltered by a hollow in the rock and listened to the sea's endless song The waves crashed below the wind hummed through the stones and the night air smelled of salt and rain The stars wheeled slowly above cold and clear and I felt the vastness of the world the weight of the sea the strength of the cliffs that had stood against the water's assault for ages beyond counting

The dawn came soft and gray with mist clinging to the grass and the cliffs The sea lay quiet for a time as if resting after its night-long labor I walked down to the narrow beach at the base of the cliffs where smooth stones lay heaped by the tide and small pools reflected the sky I found shells worn pale and thin by the sea's hand driftwood bleached by sun and salt I walked until my footprints vanished behind me washed clean by the waves

For several days I remained among those cliffs exploring their folds and crevices watching the play of light and shadow upon their faces at dawn and dusk I saw the sea in all its moods calm and silver beneath a quiet sky wild and dark beneath storm clouds white with foam beneath the lash of wind Each day I felt the cliffs speak in their silent way of endurance of patience of the long battle between stone and sea that would continue long after I was gone

There was a village near the cliffs a small place where fishermen lived their boats drawn up upon the shore their nets drying upon poles Their faces were lined by the wind and sea their voices quiet but warm They shared with me their bread their fish fresh from the water their stories of storms and shipwrecks of great catches and lean times I sat with them by their fires and listened as the night fell the sea's voice always in the distance

When at last I turned inland once more I left the cliffs with a heart filled with their memory I carried with me the sound of the waves the scent of the salt air the vision of the arch and needle of stone standing against the sky Now as I sit beside my fire at Lake Siljan and hear the wind in the birches I remember the cliffs of Étretat and the sea's endless song and I am humb

led and at peace