They reached the car park at 8-12 am.
A late beach for Beach Buoy but he hadn't found sleep until after
3 am.
Beach Buoy cracked open the van window a little to try and gauge the wind direction.
He wanted to park the van back-on to the wind.
He confirmed the direction of the wind by checking which way the seagulls were stood as they always face the wind.
The wind was cold, hail was flying across the car park and promenade beyond.
The access ramp to the beach felt a little like a wind tunnel.
Sand and Hail blasted Beach Buoy as he carried his beach mate beyond the wildness at the start of the walk.
It felt as though the sea was angry with them for being late.
The sea itself was wild, high enough once more to hide the horizon from view.
It may not have been a mountainous sea but it was definitely a little hilly.
It's peaks and troughs filled the bay with shape and dull shades.
The Heugh and North Gare Piers were being slapped on the back like an old friend by the frantic sea.
In reality the Piers and the sea were more foes than they were friends; a constant battle of protection and destruction.
They stacked the stack with five beach stones plus two others as requested.
The hail started and stopped and stopped and started.
Hands went from frozen to warm and from warm to frozen.
Although it was cold, Beach Buoy was keen to go to the Pier and at least look at the the River beyond.
The hail gained strength as they headed south; the bitter coldness returned.
Beach Buoy held a hand up to the side of his face for protection from the blast, as though he was whispering a secret.
At that moment a jogger ran nearby by in the dunes, holding a hand up at the side of his face too as he ran.
Beach Buoy pictured a game of Hail Chinese whispers where
'Am on Beach.'
became
' Buy some bleach.'
They went to search down in North Gare Pier Corner.
Beach Buoy had made lots of finds in this particular spot.
He sat on a rock and watched the wild sea do its dance.
Stubborn Dog was having a canny day.
The sea was coming ever-closer so they made a move.
The Pier was taking a battering.
The dune grass turned away from the blast of the wind.
Stubborn Dog was enjoying the shelter that the dunes provided.
They headed back to the beach.
Beach Buoy collected this home made float.
A bit of research later, showed
WY 833
was a boat called
The Wild Cat
from Whitby.
Fishermen often use old Plastic containers as floats.
So many times Beach Buoy has found them with broken handles, where the ropes have worn through the plastic at that point.
He then collected the one shown above.
He had seen it earlier-on during the beach visit.
He had placed it out of harms way with the intention of collecting it on the way back to the van.
