The second trigger word … Beach

Their weary arms drove the canoe on wards with minds numbed by the slow repetitive motions to propel their transport forward through the treacle disguised as water. When they eventually rounded the point the scene before them was a salve to each one’s weariness. Because ahead of them ran a gently sloping beach of pearl and gold sand basking in the afternoon sun.
In grey stark contrast to the ethereal beach were the grey sun bleached remains of driftwood lay scattered in picturesque chaos, cast haphazardly from the cold dark water. The canoe slid onto the beach with a slow wet scrape. The two canoeists simply sat, unable to move from their weariness simply took in the scenery whilst they recharged their energy in the warm sun and listened to the rhythmic soft slap of the tine waves along the shoreline.
On closer inspection the coarse sand wasn’t gold or pearls but rather grains of quartz, amber and alluvial silt which sloped back to a wide flat grassy knoll before the pine and eucalyptus scrub. A perfect place to set up camp, rest and invigorate themselves before their slow watery journey continues across the lake.

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