Beach Buoy had gone to bed after midnight.
He woke and reached to check the time; 2-53 am.
It was one of those times when you just know you are not going back to sleep.
In the dark distance he could faintly hear what nowadays passes as a Fog Horn; a Fog Buzzer was sounding across the Bay.
The sound was complimented by what sounded like the Tees Pilot Boat (aka The noisiest boat in the world.) chugging around in the Bay. Normally these would have been comforting noises, like rain on the roof .
The hint of a foggy bay set Beach Buoy wondering what the beach walk and its photographs be like?
He stood, picked up he bedside book.
THE COAST ROAD
by
PAUL GOGARTY.
Beach Buoy is a very v e r y v e r y slow reader, so easily distracted.
Saying that, he had almost ran around
THE SALT PATH
by
RAYNOR WINN.
But
THE COAST ROAD
had been a slow journey.
Started well over a year ago, Beach Buoy was marooned on page 128.
The book is about a man travelling the English Coast and at the present rate Beach Buoy could have walked it quicker than he was going to take to read about it.
Not the authors fault, Beach Buoy has no right to comment really as he knows his own short comings when being able to string a few words together wondering if his punctuation skills are up to scratch?
Book in hand and a Stubborn Dog under his feet he headed downstairs.
Kettle on.
Coffee made.
Beach Buoy grabbed a couple of biscuits and placed them on the book; looked like they are stopping at page 128 for a little while longer.
(Must be a good view.)
Beach Buoy flicked on the TV.
He doesn't watch much TV at all.
The news came on.
It looked like America was going to have a new President.
Beach Buoy had randomly Googled Paul McCartney's Farm, yesterday (When all my troubles..... STOP!)
He had wondered exactly whereabouts it was.
Goggle had told him it was 6 hrs and 33 mins. away.
They could be there by Lunchtime....
If it wasn't for this pesky lockdown eh?
There a few bucket list places to go to in Scotland if the Hook of this
*!#** Virus doesn't claim them first.
They set off for the beach at 6-33am.
They walked.
The air was damp with a hint of mist.
It showed more under the LED streetlight, like foggy cones attached to the top of the lights.
Stubborn Dog walked the kerb stone like a tightrope as he so often does.
A Cat sat in an illuminated front window.
He watched the pair's slow progress with interest.
A Cyclist passed silently; lights flashing.
Beach Buoy trudged through damp dark brown leaves that lined the perimeter of the Cricket Club as Stubborn Dog took an age to sniff at every opportunity.
Beach Buoy has to be careful when writing this blog as the PC changes words. He just wrote interest and it changed to interstate's
a word he has never written until now.
He doesn't always see them straight away, so there may be times he writes one thing and the blog will say an Elephant..
They passed the Golf Club.
The Golfers were snookered; closed due to the lockdown.
They had parked a trailer across the gateway to stop entry.
Par for the course nowadays.
They eventually reached the beach car park at 6-53 am.
Four Cars were parked.
It was light enough to see the sea and a grey on grey horizon.
The air seemed full of Gulls and Mist.
The headland and Wind Turbines could not be seen due to the fog.
They headed south.
The sea delivered some sea pottery
it would have said
west haRTLEpool
stoNE
ginger BEER.
The misty morning seemed to muffle the sound of the sea as they continued south, checking each patch of shingle for finds as they went.
Odd how the sea delivers the shingle in almost equally spaced patches along the beach.
Almost as if a tipper truck had delivered them.
They gathered some stones and stacked the stack up in the dunes.
They paused briefly.
Beach Buoy spotted a new marker, deeper in the dunes.
A Driftwood marker.
Someone had gone to the trouble of dragging in inland a had made a good job of standing it upright securely.
They carried on south in the dunes to North Gare Beach
aka The Blue Lagoon.
The tide wasn't fully in, so much of the 'Lagoon' was empty.
The driftwood creature from the Blue Lagoon.
Ease yourself into the weekend.
Beach Buoy rounded up some ghost fishing gear.
He contacted the local Nature reserve about them.
They collected some the sane day, they would return on Monday with a pick up trick the remainder; they were heavy.
Well done @TeesmouthNNR
Thank you.
They headed back to the Bay
riding the rollercoaster dune system.
The photograph above doesn't really show the eight metre or more drop.
Beach Buoy ran down, digging his heels in as he went.
Like how he has lived his life really.
(More digging heels in than running to be honest.)
BEACH BUOY.
