There’s a set of wooden stairs, but the ocean air has chewed them up. The steps, about fifteen, are helixed, wrung like a towel. Jay starts down, and the first step punches a bolt of pain from his heel to his pelvis. Under this much gear, an eight-inch drop feels like eight feet. He tightens his lower back and keeps going. These steps tilt west. Those steps tilt east. The final step is warped at a seesaw angle. Jay slides down it, off the lower edge. His feet plant ankle-deep in the beach’s distinctive round granules of sand.
