On a lookout at Tenby, across the road from a 700-year-old church that towers over sea-foam-colored apartments, I see as wide a field of sand as I have ever seen. Above the beach a blue flag denotes that Tenby has reached the apex of European ecological standards. On the beach, dozens of boats lie on their keels as if sunning in the sand, a good quarter-mile from the water. The 29-foot tide, one of the highest in the world, is out. So I have plenty of time to grow some nerve, and maybe a few layers of skin, on the long walk from the lookout to the surf. I simply want to get a picture to show Bill that Tenby is still beautiful, the sea is still here, and his neighbor is in it.