We approached an area that resembled something like a tide pool from the prehistoric eras of Earth’s early history, a mass scattering of smoothened rocks eroded by the acidic sea, the parts above the waterline wider than the half underneath. Beyond that, rooted in the deeper waters, looked like flooded willow trees, only their crowns rising out of the nearly motionless current. Even further away, were huge natural rock formations piercing the sky. Their bases visually blocked by the increased thickness of fog that hung over this inland sea. The humidity factor significantly increased, but as I expected, the temperature did take a little dip, dropping to 51-degrees C, mainly due to the lack of heavy vegetation that keeps the heat from escaping in other areas. The major body of water here also acts as a heat sink. Of the three of us that paused to view the scene, I took the initiative and slid down the side of a boulder into one-meter deep water, and waded my way closer to one of these “willows”. After performing a few zig-zag maneuvers between the slimy rocks popping out of the sea, the bottom was slowly descending to the point where I then stopped, the hydrochloric-tainted sea immersing me up to my armpits. I didn't put much thought into it when I had dropped down in the nearly steaming liquid and wadded deeper into the sea, and quickly lost the feel of the shore underneath my feet. After stopping to take a minute to examine the nearest specimen, I then regretted that move, my previous excitement pushing me a bit too far. For every other second now, I could feel the chest area of my suit making contact with a spongy frond, then I realized why they had called the plant a “sea scourge”.