Infinitesimally small. Isn't it grand?

On a windy afternoon in New Zealand, Drew drove us out to one of his favorite places to see the sun set. We took a long and windy road up and then down a mountain, watching the waves roll in to the coastline as we descended between shrubs and walls of green.

Big pinnacles rose up from the earth and the wind swept the reeds and tall grass on the sides of the road nearly sideways at some points.

We got out after looking for the best views, then decided after a few minutes to head for the sand. Tiny grains of sand hit my cheeks, settling there for a moment then falling away.

The pinnacle in front of us is a sacred Maori site. Somewhere up there is a small shelter or house of some kind:No one really knows, I loved walking beneath it, knowing I would never climb to see.

High tide was coming in and ocean water was streaming in past us. It was too deep, so I just waded in. Shin deep. Some things are too good to pass up.

We went for the sun set, but instead the sky began to cover itself with a blanket — turning grey, and nearly blue, as the wind rushed and dusk settled in. People out on the rocks stood out, so small against Mother Nature.

"I love it when I am made to feel small. Tiny. In the best possible way," i told Drew as we walked closer. "There was this day in Switzerland, where i was surrounded by snow, in the mountains. There were no people, no houses. I was a red dot of parka in an infinity of snow. I like to be reminded how infinitesimally small we truly are out here."

The dusk settled in and the people left and Drew and I walked silently, and standing still to soak it in, and watch the light change each second.

My feet, my pants were wet, sand on my cheeks and if someone looked out from the road or that mountain road, maybe, maybe they saw a black dot on the outcrop, or shuffling their feet through the sand, drinking it in, right where the infinite ocean began.

Awesome photo by Drew Bateman