Saturday, 25 May 2019


Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog arrived in the car park at    6-40am.
That classed as sleep in, as the light early mornings had been tempting them out much earlier recently.
As Beach Buoy sat with the side door of the van open, a cyclist free wheeled to the end of the promenade, turned and started to pedal back to the north.

Beach Buoy stepped over the low wall to the dunes as an ex- workmate returned to the car park.
"Morning." said both.
Kept walking; did both.

The beach scene was basically a grey sandwich of sea and sky with a zesty lemon horizon thrown into the mix for contrast.

Every now and then the sun would try to break through and turn the grey sea, a mirrored silver.
Beach Buoy was doing his beach clean as he went .
A bottle caught his eye and he placed it in his bag.
The bottle was
a cider.
It reminded Beach Buoy of that Prime Minister on a
grey May day 
and the ship called
Great Britain ; sank.

As Beach Buoy approached the grey rocks  a couple appeared from the south; struggling.
The man (Not Shaggy or Freddy.) walked a large Scooby Doo type dog and also carried a large heavy box with fishing rods attached.
A Lady followed laden down with buckets and bags.
It looked like she had recently won a supermarket trolley dash, but the trolley or a lift home were not included in the prize?
Beach Buoy presumed that they would be fishing at the grey rocks.
Beach Buoy walked on a while to give them fishing space and sat down midway along the grey rocks on the dune edge to sit and think.

He looked across to the north.
The couple and Scooby had continued north.
They were obviously having a bit of a problem.

Starting and stopping.
Stopping and starting.
Beach Buoy cut short his sit and think and decided to see if he could catch up and help.
The Skylark bade them a melodic farewell as they left.
You never know,  maybe they have a Scooby snack to spare.
Or they could do a deal, they walk Stubborn Dog and Beach Buoy would carry all of the bags.

As Beach Buoy headed north on a mission, the 7 am club passed.
Mari and now new regular  (Cloud Dog.) came over for a fuss.
Mari's owner said 
"It must be the after shave!"

Beach Buoy caught up with the tiring couple.
"Can I help?"
The man  said,
"No Mate ya alright, I think we brought too much beer."
The lady (Daphne.) was stood with buckets and bags by her side, hands on hips.
Slightly out of breath, she said "Thank You."
Her body language was screaming
Beach Buoy headed back to the Mystery Machine and headed off.
He'd have gotten away with it too if it hadn't been for those pesky kids.


Friday, 24 May 2019


Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog arrived in the car park at
There was one car in the car park and it was clear that it had been there all night long.

They reached the water's edge.
It wasn't 6am yet but the sun's warmth could be felt.
As the waves broke onto the shore , the white foam cast a shadow on the sand; Beach Buoy loved that.
The waves were breaking a little out from the beach too, if they had been three or four times bigger they would have 
perfect  for surfing.

Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog walked as far as the grey rocks; the tide was up at that end of the beach.

They sat down just opposite the Sea 
Serpent, resting on the dune edge.
Stubborn Dog curled up in the sand at Beach Buoy's feet.
The sun warmed their faces.
They had been here before, done this before, but if this was groundhog day then it was the best groundhog day of all.
They sat.
They thought,
As ships left port.

Stubborn Dog fell asleep.
Beach Buoy thought it was the perfect spot for a cuppa.
Maybe bring a flask tomorrow.
Beach Buoy was sitting with one eye shut and the other squinted in the bright sunlight as he looked out to sea.
Stubborn Dog stirred (Had he brought a cuppa?)..
He stirred from his nap and ... stared.
It was the 7 (6) am club.

Beach Buoy stood up to avoid a face full of poodle as Mari bounded cross.

Scratch done and she was gone.
Beach Buoy sat back down.
Three small dogs from the club appeared including little cloud dog from yesterday.
They were a right mixture, like a dog version of the bash street kids lined up for assembly.
Only the little Cloud Dog was brave enough to come over.
She clambered over Beach Buoy's outstretched legs and wagged and wagged.
Cloud Dog got a cuddle for its bravery then all three were off.
Cloud Dog only had little legs and it stumbled and almost fell as it ran, Beach Buoy laughed out loud followed by a Awwwww.
With the dogs back in the pack the 7 (6) am club headed back north.
In time Beach Buoy and stubborn dog did the same.
A council tractor approached.

It was towing a Barbor Surf Rake; a machine that smoothed the sand on tourist end of the beach and cleared rocks from that part of the beach.
The rocks and stones were dumped down by the grey rocks.

A man up ahead squatted down and took a photograph of something on the beach.
Did he have a blog too?
Beach Buoy wandered back the van thinking how good it was that people had an outlet for their photographs, their thoughts and writing.
Was it just a form of vanity publishing?
Did it matter?
Maybe not as long as ...
got something from it.




It was 5-40 am.
The car park was empty apart from a HGV tanker.
it had been parked overnight.
The tanker was chrome-like and reflected the early morning sun.
car park was littered with what looked like a creep of albino tortoises as white upturned polystyrene fast food containers, creeped in the breeze.  

Beach Buoy said "Morning."
to a lady with two Yorkshire Terriers.
"Morning." she replied.
Beach Buoy imagined that the dogs were called 
E by and Gum.
That would be fun shouting them in from the garden.

Beach Buoy walked to the water's edge.
Sand, shingle and back to sand at the sea.
Gulls chatted as Skylarks sang.

There was a slight breeze but there was heat in
 the early morning sun.
Beach Buoy glanced back to see that the 7 (6)am club were on the beach.. times do vary now, with the lighter mornings.

Ten Oyster Catchers left the cover of the dune edge , followed closely by their shadows as they headed off to sea.
He had made a few finds, Beach Buoy laid them on the beach to photograph them and left them for others.

It was 6-20 am.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog sat and had a think.
They watched as the sea would drop a stitch and a line of the Sea Blue Cardigan would unravel before them.
Stubborn dog snoozed, Beach Buoy relaxed.
Beach Buoy stood up, as the large friendly poodle was heading his way.
Hellos were said and Dogs fussed over.
A small white dog from the group came over for the 
first time.
It looked like a white cloud with four small cloud legs at each corner. It was friendly and just wanted to join in the scratchathon .
Beach Buoy headed off leaving the 6 am club some space to put the world to rights.
He headed higher, up the dunes were the breeze was stronger and 
He thought a while and by then the 6 am club were way ahead of him.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog were good at dawdling along the beach.
They were better than Davey Dawdle and his mate Dawdle Dog ; they had been picked to dawdle for England back in 1967 in the Dawdle world Cup... sadly they were disqualified for taking too long to get to the competition!

They returned to the beach later that day it was 6-15pm.
There was a breeze form the west and a hot sun in the sky.

The beach looked like a picture postcard.
it was the brightest of blues and the crispest of whites.



It was 6-06 am.
The Sun shone.
The Sea sparkled.

As for the can... wish you weren't here!

Beach Buoy left the pieces he had found today.

It was a morning to just admire the view, enjoy your time on there.

The Beach began to fill as the sea came in.

Beach Buoy returned to the beach at 7-20 pm.
It was busier than he had hoped.

It was still so very warm.
It was almost 7-30 m and as bright as noon.
Two annoying jet ski riders came too close to the shore ... posing for posing sake.
Out at sea; the proper sea, five yachts were strung out evenly on the horizon. They looked like equally spaced beads on an abacus.

Time to head back... slowly.



5-40 am.
The car park was empty.
The sun blazed down as they headed south.

The sea lapped like a lakeside.
It was bright.
It was light.

The 7 am club were the 6am club today and the usual greetings took place.

Beach Buoy returned to the beach at 6-30pm..
it didn't last long and he was off.

morning beaches are better.


It was another lovely day.

When the walk was done they rested up on the promenade wall.
It was then that Stubborn Dog noticed that they had knocked down the village eyesore.



It was 6-56 am and the 7 am club were on their way...
It was bay of contrasts this morning.
Hartlepool Headland looked faint and distant like the love 
interest in a novel set in victorian times; well, sort of.
In contrast the south of the bay was bright and fairly clear.
Up in the dunes a figure walked three dogs.
The figure was going up and down the undulating dunes as if riding the mad mouse that lived in the fairground that used to stand to north.
(The Mad Mouse was the name of the Heater Skelter
in Seaton Carew many, many years ago.)  
Half way along the beach, it started to rain.
Beach Buoy had two hoods; neither went up.
The rain was refreshing.
The rain was fine.

Beach Buoy and the short short man passed like ships in the night.
Overhead two seagulls had a mid- air battle.
perhaps it was the duo from the car park yesterday; the song and dance act?
Perhaps they were arguing over top billing.
At the grey rocks, the grey sea kissed the sand goodbye for  now as the tide headed out.

The items above were found and left behind.

The pot / stone train was .... a keeper.

These were also left behind.


Thursday, 23 May 2019


Back to Seaton Carew.
It was 6-50 am.
Two Seagulls walked side by side as if rehearsing for a rendition of 
Give Me The Moonlight.
The tide was well, there wasn't a breath of wind to be had.
Then they had 
passed the golf club its flag was draped, covering the top of the flagpole like some german tourists towel claiming a sunbed.

The was a greyness about the beach today.
It seemed a darker shade or two after all of the last few weeks brightness.

Beach Buoy spotted the net and rope separately.
They soon became tangled as he dragged them along to the rubbish bin.


Wednesday, 22 May 2019


It was the last morning.
The weather summed up the mood perfectly.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog crossed the bouncy and now wet bridge to the beach.
Beach Buoy stood looking out to sea.
He had finally figured out north and south...
The Isle of Man looked faint and almost ready to leave.
A bright red fishing boat crossed the bay from 
right to left
aka north to south.

Down on the beach a lady threw a ball in the sea for her dog to retrieve.
To be honest it looked more than a little too far.
The dog must have carried out an on-site risk 
assessment and headed back without the ball.
The owner encouraged it to go further than the dog was comfortable with.
The dog was willing to please as we all are at times and went that "Extra mile."
The lady cheered as the dog approached the 
beach; ball in mouth.
She held her arms aloft as though they had won the World Cup.
Raindrops began to fall more 
heavily on Beach Buoy's hood.
There would be no open top bus parade today!
On the beach worm casts  spiralled upwards; they would soon be flattened by the in-coming tide.
Random dog walkers walked their dogs.
Up behind the promenade, lights in the long narrow beach side tearooms twinkled in the rainy grey morning.
Beach Buoy looked back to see the FA Cup
 winners leave the beach 
with trophy in hand... and ball still in mouth.

Buoy watched as four waterproofed hikers
went to the water's edge.
They were attempting to touch their boots in the water, but not get their boots wet.
Were they beginning or ending their journey?
The wet boot squad dripped their way to the lifeboat station.
He watched as they tried to take a decent group photograph by means of a timer set on one of the groups mobile phones; it wasn't working..."Excuse me. would you like me to take a group photograph for you?" asked Beach Buoy. 
The group were very grateful for the offer.
Beach Buoy chatted after taking a couple of photographs for the hikers.

They were off to Robin Hoods Bay.
Beach Buoys roots are there; his family tree roots.

The old Church's graveyard is full of them.
They said their farewells and wishes of good luck.
Beach Buoy noticed two cyclists wetting their bike tyres in the Irish Sea; a start or finish?

They took turns taking each others photographs.
Beach Buoy was just about to offer the same group photograph option to the pair when one of the four hikers broke free and did so...
passing on the favour.

Beach Buoy sorted the van,
sorted himself and left.
It had been special.
Beach Buoy had been Beach Buoy

first time in a long time.
He hoped beyond hope that he would 
get the chance to Beach Buoy again
and again
and again.....



It was the last full day/night of the stay.....
Buoy and Stubborn Dog 
wandered down onto St Bees Head Beach after a short walk on the small promenade.
The sun was shining down 
and there was a lovely breeze blowing down the Irish Sea.
The novelty of staying overnight just a minute's walk from the sea would never fade.
Today the tide was such that it allowed them to go beyond the groynes.
now that's a good title for a book.
Beach Buoy.

Not to be confused with
(Thats a different type of book altogether!)

They walked south for around fifteen minutes or so.
Beach Buoy had only found a couple of pieces of sea glass.
There wasn't much at all and there is no way he would call it a hot spot by any stretch of his limited imagination.

He looked around .
There was no short short man, no Mari the poodle.
Every beach is different but they all have their regulars, faces and silhouettes that, in time, would become familiar.
The woman with a Retriever that was as white and almost as big as a Polar Bear and dare we say almost as stubborn as Stubborn Dog. (Almost.) 
The girl who appeared down the hill with a collie dog and headed for the sea, walked the beach and headed off to who knows where? 
They and others with a set pattern of the day and of their beach visits.

After a shower and a tidy up, Beach Buoy made a coffee.
He sat smug with a mug.

What an idyllic spot!
Beach Buoy sat and made notes in his notebook to use as reference later when blogging about the adventure, every now and then he would look at the view, check no one had stolen the isle of Man and continue.

Out of the back window he could see that it was slightly fresher today. Random white horses appeared on the sea.
The tide had come in a little, the groynes were partially covered... His mind began to wander... (It always, always wanders but this was an extra wander, then add two foot). A Horse racing commentary style voice spoke in his head...
"And here we are now, already  for the 10 o'clock Groyne Hurdle from the St Bees Course.

by Life's a Beach. Here is the betting.....
Ocean  Spray 15 -1
High Tide 12-1
Isthatadolphin 5-1
Shesellsseashells 2-1
Squids in 2-1

Cat (a meringue).... evens

Beyond the races, a steady stream of hikers began to climb St Bees Head.
Some dressed as mountaineers, some in beach wear.

Some with rucksacks, some with babies. The Seagulls that soared above the head on the up-draught had no doubt seen it all before.

Beach Buoy reached for the map of Cumbria.... 

Should he venture out?
Even though a day of just sitting would have done.

His finger travelled the coast, like one of the soaring seagulls
deciding just where to land.

It was 12-15pm
It was indeed Maryport.
Beach Buoy maybe should have consulted a map of the town too?
He parked up early on in the docks system, not realising it was all a bit of a walk down to the pier.
He went up and down a number of quaysides as he headed for the pier light.
The harbour had boats of all types and state of repair.
Some rusted.
Some busted.
Some worthy of the sea.

A raised dock gate didn't help it the sort cut department! 

Nets dried in the baking sun.
Part of the quayside is gated, leading to a small stop for caravans and motorhomes and the like. It consisted of the two barriers and a number of electric hook up points and water supply; that was it.
It did look a little out of place to say the least.

A steady train of white vans driven by a steady supply of white van men tootled around the quaysides.
(Beach Buoy was later to decide that "Tootle." meant going slow because they were lost.)

Beach Buoy went beyond another tall wall and still no pier.
it seemed like a dead end?
An ambulance with flashing lights but no siren approached the same dead end.
"Well if they are lost, what chance do I have?" Beach Buoy said to himself.

Phone out.
Google maps!

Back to van for a more a more calculated attempt to reach the summit.
aka Pier Light.

Beach Buoy joined the procession of white vans travelling the quayside in his ... white van!

Finally Beach Buoy reached the light.
 Sadly Richard O'Brien was not there to present Beach Buoy with his crystal for competing the maze.
Beach Buoy parked up near to the light and walked the narrow jetty that led from it.

There were only a few parking spaces and they felt a little vulnerable as a convoy of bright orange trucks rattled past to be loaded with gravel by a digger that was down on the beach to the south of the jetty.

Beach Buoy may not have received a crystal for his endeavours but a cuppa with a view of Scotland would suffice.
Beach Buoy got the map out again and alternating between binoculars and book was picking off the Scottish landmarks.
Thoughts of more travels filled Beach Buoy's head; travels with  borders to cross.

The light stood proudly in the bright sunlight and looked magnificent.

Beach Buoy did see a boat with a wind- tattered BREXIT 
In its battered state it read BREXI
which ..... sounded Italian and seemed slightly ironic;
to Beach Buoy at least...

a trip to base camp and a 8-30pm walk on St Bees Head Beach finished the day.


Monday, 20 May 2019


It was Wednesday already.
Beach Buoy was really getting 
into a routine; a wonderful routine; a routine where the sea was a minute away and the weather was fantastic. A routine where he could walk a beach whilst thinking about where to visit later in the day.
No matter where it was it would begin with B and end in each.
It was liberating letting worries go and becoming a beach bum for a week.
Back to van.
Bed mode to beach-mobile.
Off to Ravenglass.
Beach Buoy had been to Ravenglass many years ago and had vague memories 
about it.

Beach Buoy parked up near the Railway Station.
He went on a beach hunt and ended up walking down a Staithes like street to what looked like the sea but was in fact the River and its estuary.
A heavy metal gate stood at the end of the street to protect when the threat of flooding raised its white 
wavey head.
A rusting anchor lies in the estuary just beyond the flood gate.

Beach Buoy walked to the water.
The sea lay beyond a dune island  to the north and the south side of the mainland.

The colours were 
almost  perfect.
It was a nice place but Beach Buoy just wasn't feeling it
They wandered 
along to a narrower, more grassed section of  the riverbank and had a sit and think.
Nearby, a local sat on a public bench and read her book in the sun.
motorcyclist dismounted his stead, well Honda to be more accurate. 

He took off his helmet and hung it on one of the bike's mirrors
  He walked to another bench, unzipped his leather jacket, reached inside and produced a book.
He sat and read.
It all seemed a little like the scene from a spy film.
He could see it now.
Scene One.
Lady pauses, looks at watch and gives a fake shock look.
She stands and walks to nearby car and drives off.

Scene Two.

Close up of the book that she has left on the bench.
Its paperback front cover flapping in the slight breeze coming down the estuary.

Scene Three.
The Motorcyclist stands up.
He places his book back inside his leather jacket and zips it closed.
He walks slowly down the river bank as far as the book bench and sits a while.
He glances around as if admiring the views, but it is fairly obvious he is checking to see if he is being watched.

Scene Four.

Close up of the biker's hand as he reached for the "Forgotten." book.

Scene Five.
He stands and returns to the motorcycle and flips up the seat and places the "Found" book into a void in the motorcycle's frame.

 Scene Six.
The biker makes a call on his mobile phone.
He puts on his helmet and rides back into the direction that he had arrived in.

Scene Seven.
A view from above.
The motorcycle passes under an old brick built railway bridge.
Not far behind, a car, a large 4 wheel drive also passes under the same bridge.
The motorcycle doesn't emerge from the underside of the bridge; the car does.

Scene Eight.
A train crosses the bridge.
Credits start to roll....

Ravenglass has a roman and a railway heritage.
Combined with the river that made the place the 3 Rs.
Beach Buoy headed over a railway bridges he had seen sign for a cafe.He thought he would support the local shops rather than a cuppa in the van.


Beach Buoy and a banned Stubborn Dog headed back to the van...
They had put £4 in the car park meter expecting to stay longer than the little over an hour that they did.

"Thats it." thought Beach Buoy.
He started up the van and began to drive; unsure of just where they were heading to be honest.

Beach Buoy followed the signs for Seascale.
He stopped at a very small Co-op shop to buy something for lunch.As with all shops there are certain sections where the very same thing happens....
Beach Buoy stood to the side of the small narrow sandwich section.
A workman and a lady stood looking at the selection on offer as though the fare was made wild and wonderful contents that they had never heard of before. 
They both had same blank look as they tried to imagine what a Yeti and moon dust sandwich would taste like... you know what I mean?
Finally they had made their "Exotic" choices and moved on, no doubt to the yoghurt section and do the very same again.
"Unicorn and mist yoghurt!"
Beach Buoy stood in front of the sandwich selection.
"This won't take long."
A couple of minutes later, there he was with the very same blank look on his face......
He gave in and just grabbed  the nearest one.
It turns out, the moon dust compliments the Yeti perfectly.
It was tasty, not at all abominable.

 He drove down to the sea front car park.
the sign stated
it added
it continued.

Beach Buoy dropped a couple of pound coins into the slot that had been made in a small brick structure.
He sat in the back of the van looking at the beach filled scene ahead.
He was very pleasantly surprised.
It wasn't a massive place.
The beach stretched for miles. 
Beach Buoy made a cuppa in the van and ate the sandwich.

A large Black Dog ran by with a lead attached to the dog but no owner attached to the lead.

The car park was busy.
It was very warm.
Along from Beach Buoy, another white VW camper owner stood by his vehicle. The man had a long beard and plenty of tattoos. All of the available doors were open on this van as its owner stood alongside talking to another beard man.
A lot of pointing was taking place. 

Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog headed for the beach.
The tide was way out and the sun was hot.

They walked along the promenade that eventually led to the beach itself.

A little further south was an interesting looking house and an old section of sea wall?
Some of the cliffs had slipped meaning that sections of the fencing had ended up pointing out to sea instead of standing upright; another take on sea defence as they looked like guns ready to defend an attack.
Beach Buoy turned to head back north

The beach was impressive but as with others nearby it looked very tidal. So maybe a check of the tide tables before a visit would be a good idea.
It was such a clear day.
The Isle of Man could be seen from the beach.

They headed back to the Promenade and admired the view.

Beach Buoy liked Seascale.
He was feeling very chilled.

They drove back to St. Bees Head.
later that night
an evening 
stroll took place 
Beach Buoy had unwound.
Jeans became shorts.
Boots became shoes.
Hoodie became T Shirt.
He was tanned and hadn't shaved all week.
He felt great.