Beach Buoy had been to work.
It had been "One of those Days."
He works around six miles away, next to The Tees Transporter Bridge.
He used a Transporter of a different type to head back to Seaton Carew; a VW T4 Transporter.
He traveled down Tees Road, a road built by Italian Prisoners of War.
Part of it feels a little like a Tarmac Tombolo; water on both sides.
Beach Buoy had been told many years ago that one side was fresh water, the other sea water.
The point was proved a couple of days ago as one side was frozen solid, the other, the sea water side had rippled small waves and grateful birds.
As he drove the route he passed sheep to the right.
A bridge takes him over Greatham Creek, the tide was a fair way out.
Lots of Seals lay in the chilly winter sunshine.
Waiting for the tide to tempt them back down the Creek that leads to The River Tees and eventually the North Sea beyond.
There were around twenty resting today.
Once upon a time the Creek was home to a community of house boats.
Now, only random odd timbers protrude from the creek to show just where some of the dwellings had once stood.
Beach Buoy wishes they were still there.
He passed a field of Cows and a yard of scrapped installations from the North Sea Oil Industry.
He called in at base Camp, grabbed a coffee and a Stubborn Dog.
They reached a busy car park at 3-48 pm.
Cold air drifted across from the west, hardly enough to call it a breeze really.
The tide was well out, the whole scene was as bright as could be.
The sea had left its mark on the beach that it had exposed behind.
Ripples ran to the North and South.
Before he said farewell for the day, the sun let their sunshine shadows beat them to the water's edge.
They walked the water's edge for a while before heading for the shingle that was beyond the rippled sand from earlier in the walk.
Two joggers jogged by.
They ran together but with completely differing running styles.
One ran as if running up hill almost shouting
"C'mon faster faster!" as he leaned forward.
His running mate ran alongside, but he in complete contradiction looked like he was running downhill almost shouting
"Woah slow down man!"as he leaned back.
Together they ran a completely level beach; give or take a ripple or two or a hundred.
A dog-less man walked southwards.
Two dogs ran from a nearby owner and sat at the dog-less man's feet as though they were old friends.
Or maybe he just had biscuits?
The dog-less man made a fuss of the two dogs then carried on with his lonely walk.
He headed up to the dunes and disappeared from sight.
Just like the Sun had promised, the Moon began to glow across the Bay, a guiding light for people with rockets and a liking for cheese.
Beach Buoy collected four large stones for the stack.
The stones were cold enough to store a vaccine.
He and Stubborn Dog climbed the frozen dune edge.
Once more the stack had been scattered.
Beach Buoy made good some repairs and added today's offering to the marker.
They stood a while and surveyed their surroundings, well to be honest Beach Buoy did whilst Stubborn Dog sniffed the chilled fresh air.
It was going to be a cold night, much of the sky was clear.
Some low cloud hugged the horizon, almost as if it was scared of heights.
A couple of beach walkers had turned back to the North.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn followed suit, heading back with the sea for company.
The Sun hadn't seem to make much difference temperature-wise , but now it had set, the temperature seemed to fall even more.
As Beach Buoy and his mate walked North, Gulls passed overhead, heading East, out to Sea.
Some went by silently, then ten went over making the noise of a hundred or more.
Meanwhile Cormorants had chosen South as their destination for the night, the river waited for their arrival.
As they approached the end of the dune system, Beach Buoy checked the time; 4-44 pm.
It was still light, the sun had gone but it was still light!
New arrivals arrived as new arrivals tend to do when they arrive.
They headed for the shingle and began beach-combing in a light that was destined to fade.
They reached the van at five.
It was much darker by now.
People sat in cars with engines running, headlights on, pointing at the promenade people as if they were expecting them to put on a show.
There has been times when Beach Buoy has walked the promenade and has been confronted by idiots sat with headlights on, pointing out to sea like ship-wreckers of old.
He has made a point of walking to the car in question, walk around the back of it, then return to the promenade.
That's just Beach Buoy being Beach Buoy.
They headed back.
The marked lane for leaving the car park was blocked by two BMWs.
The cars were parked at bizarre angles.
A parking bay was too good for them, they were BMWs after all.
The male owners stood at he rear of their vehicles.
In a you show me yours and I'll show you mine stance.
BEACH BUOY.
