The day after a big storm is the moment every beachcomber waits for. The sea has churned through its layers, pulled back its blankets of sand, and rolled its treasures to the surface. It’s a game of timing, luck, and persistence.

Low tide was about an hour ago, and the path around the rocks is clear. I take a deep breath, put on my rubber boots, and head down the embankment to the shore. It’s a beautiful day for rockhounding.