A few hours after noon and barely enough cloud cover to make a difference.
The sun glares, as if in blame, at his back whilst the sweat slides from his body, every pore weeping for catastrophe. He wipes his brow and resumes digging, idly timing his strokes to the collapse of the beaching waves. At this end of the beach the sand is so fine that most of the grains blow back into the hole before his next assault with the shovel. Still that won't be a problem a few feet down when the sand will turn hard wet and heavy. He begrudgingly accepts that it would be a good hour or two until then for the hole is far from the shore and the tide is low. At least then the unforgiving sun will be dimming below the horizon's wall.
A turtle slides through the break in the coral reef, paying no heed to the swimmers who point and shout with glee at this unexpected visual bounty. She will stay here for a few hours, happily eating from the many fish that frequent the calm waters under the reef's protection.