The air smells sulfuric. A dreary day washed in outside my hotel room. Washed on first on a fog bank and then on Pacific swells. I've watched the rain fall since 10 a.m. Tofino needs more rain. More than they got the first day I was here when the rain prevented me from doing much. We're on backup water; the hotel staff warned me that it was safe although it might appear discolored. The backup water system pulls from a different stream and the cedars lining the stream color the water with tannins. The swells ride in from the mist and crash into Secret Cove with a muffled woof. A crack in the rocks channels the water to a narrow point. The waves are directed in and upward when they reach the end, throwing spray and flotsam high in the air onto the rocks. The water drains away, but the seaweed does not. I wonder if it will completely rot away on top of the rocks before the next tide high enough to immerse the rocks carries it away.