The plan was to be in Seaham for sunrise.
It didn't happen, not today.
The tide will have been a little too high for Beach Buoy's needs.
(He has a plan.)
He started the van engine as the sun rose.
Minutes later he was on the beach, the sun had already cleared the horizon.
It was 6-20 am.
Typically after three pre-sunrise visits in a row, all with a hidden sunrise, today's was as clear as a bell.
The air was cold and not quite still.
The tide had not long turned from high.
Two Kayakers carried their craft down the access ramp and headed for the sea as Beach Buoy had done moments earlier.
The light was gorgeous, the sea was beautiful.
Beach Buoy watched the kayakers.
They followed a wave out and plonked their kayaks on the exposed sand, hoping the next in-coming wave would carry them out.
Nope.
The next one?
Nope.
The next ?
Nope.
They began to try and shuffle towards the sea.
They looked like some bizarre plastic duck / human mutation in an experiment that had gone horribly wrong.
One floated off, paddling furiously to go beyond the breaking waves.
The second kayaker wasn't having as much luck.
He dug his oar into the sand like it was a crazed sand castle build competition.
Eventually they were two.
The pair raced in, like surfers with a seat, riding the waves.
Then back beyond the waves and repeat....
As Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog watch the show, the sea almost reached them.
White foam running towards them.
"Seas gunna get yer."
a lady said as she passed with her dog.
Beach Buoy had stepped back to avoid wet boots.
"Morning, thank you."
he said
He was fighting the temptation to add that the sea got him years ago and never let go.
Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog headed for the dune edge.
The beach wave lady and her mother passed at the water's edge.
Distant waves were exchanged.
Beach Buoy had made two thermal flasks of coffee.
He sat with one, a Stubborn Dog and a "FUN." sized Mars bar.
There is a whole blogpost right there,,
"Fun." sized!
It was 7 am
somewhere down The Tees a factory buzzer sounded out unheard, to Beach Buoy at least.
They stood and headed south.
A one man 7 am club caught up, moments after his dog had.
He owned Mari the big friendly poodle and a white scottie dog.
Mari had had her obligatory neck scratch.
Beach Buoy and her owner discussed beaches and the past.
They went their separate directions.
Beach Buoy stacked the stack.
They stuck with the dunes and headed for Sand Martin Corner that was still minus the Sand Martins at the moment.
Stubborn Dog had made himself comfortable and was not wanting to move.
He did
"That" look,
looking down his nose, past imaginary wire rimmed spectacles.
All as if to say
"Not going anywhere mate."
As they walked back, the Skylarks took to the airwaves.
Beach buoy likened them to the first / last cottage they had seen yesterday.
Every time they sing it is as special as the first time he recognised their song.
Every time they sing it is as special as the last time he will ever hear them.
They had a slow walk back.
A Dead Seagull lay up near the strand line.
It resembled twists of old style fish and chips newspaper wrappers.
Its small head was resting on the sand perfectly as though it was sleeping on the worlds most comfortable pillow.
No more winters.
No more long cold nights.
No more life....
They went to the van after Beach Buoy had recorded the finds.
Beach Buoy located the spotty teacake toaster and toasted a spotty teacake.
(With lashings of butter.)
Beach Buoy..
