There is a quiet road behind a yacht club. If you follow it, it will lead you to chained off gravel path along a jetty into the bay.
At the end of this path you will find what looks to be the gray and haunted remnants of a lost civilization.
If you listen, you will hear strangely amplified gurgles, trickles, splashes and sighs coming from the many odd pipes surrounding you.
After a moment you stop looking over your shoulder for the ghosts of those who have been lost at sea because you realize you are hearing the Wave Organ.
You spend the afternoon entranced, becoming one with the bay,
taking in the views,
making a forest on a tiny beach one can only visit at low tide,
watching the waves claim it,
then slowly and reluctantly, you return to reality.