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| It was a day off. Beach Buoy and his mate Stubborn Dog reached Car Park at 7-10 am. There were three cars in the vast Car Park, one in Beach Buoy's favourite spot... The wind was from the North. Rain threatened but not materialised. They headed for the water's edge towards a Snarling Grey Sea. Sea Birds stood huddled close to the sea. Beach Buoy thought as he walked towards the South... The Beach. The Gym he doesn't pay for. The Blood Pressure Tablet that the doesn't take. The Anti-depressant that he doesn't take. The hobby that is free. The Sea Birds that did attempt to fly, had to flap to keep in the same spot in the strong wind. A pause in flight would send them curving away to the South. Sea foam caught by the wind went rushing for the Dunes, resembling ghosts of long lost sailors desperate for land after so long in the Sea that had claimed them. |
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| Beach Buoy followed the ghosts with some of his own and placed a couple of stones on the Dune Stack. He headed back to the beach as two Cormorants flew North into the strong wind. The determined birds looked like heavily laden bombers setting out on a mission, the strong wind seemed to have little effect on them. Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog headed to the Grey Rocks via the Dune edge; the tide was blocking beach access to the Pier. They had a look at North Gare corner. The recent rough seas had stripped the area of every grain of sand. Beach Buoy turned to head back....... Nope..... Stubborn Dog was keen (Now there is a collection of words you would never expect in the same sentence!) He was keen to carry on South, over the Pier and to North Gare Beach. More than keen; determined. ... and Yes North Gare Beach was to the South ..... What awaited them? The sight of Mermaids sat at the water's edge, combing their seaweed-like hair? A Pod of Dolphins putting on a show? A group of Kite surfers putting on a colourful and acrobatic display just for them? None of the above. The Beach was more than enough reward. They had the wind on their backs so far. The North Gare Beach was sheltered by an arm of sand dunes that swung out from the Protective North Gare Pier. When they turn to head back they will have to face the music; The Wind Section. |
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| They set off on Beach Two. Beach Buoy was hoping to check on the driftwood shelters that fishermen built down by the river. North Gare Beach is quite tidal. At high tide the strand line is never far from the Dune Edge. Beach Buoy had checked the tide times as they can catch you out if you are heading for the riverside; all was good, low tide would be in a couple of hours. They carried on. |
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| The rough sea had uncovered a rusting riveted pipe. A ship sailed out of Port, between The Gares. People and dogs came and went. The beach was so wide, thanks to the lowering tide that it didn't matter. A Man appeared from the East with a Small Black Dog, he was wearing a quilted Lumberjack Shirt..... the man. He picked up a piece of driftwood and examined it as he turned it in his hand. He initially rejected it and walked away but then returned examined it once more and again rejected it. His small Black Dog dropped its ball and found a smaller piece of driftwood. He ran after the lumberjack, stick in mouth as if to say " Will this one do Dad?" That piece was rejected also and the little dog was sent back for the ball. Beach Buoy neared the riverside. The sand was soft, his feet sank in, as if he were walking in a snow drift. He soon realised that the Driftwood shelters had been reclaimed by the stormy seas. Nothing lasts forever; nothing good that is... the bad stuff can keep a hold. |
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| They headed back. Life between The Gares looked stormy. |
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| They said farewell to North Gare Beach and headed back to Seaton Sands. A Blast of wind greeted them back to their regular beach. They walked the water's edge and before too long, they were back at the van. Life's a Beach. BEACH BUOY. |
