Philip Stone, a British Geological Survey geologist we met in Stanley, had visited 10 days earlier and left us a note with the gift. The beach was loaded with fossils, he wrote. We couldn't miss them. And he was right. Within a minute of stepping onto the cobble and shale beach, John spots a black, shiny concretion, then another and another.
Hammers start breaking rock.
Out pops the alien-like head of a huge trilobite, out pops the fanned outline of a brachiopod. The concretions are like Easter eggs filled with surprises. One by one, we add our discoveries to the same rock ledge where Phil had piled his. The collection grows quickly. But the weather is miserable.