Beach Buoy had headed for bed around 12-40 am.
He woke.
It felt like 6-30 am.
He laid a while before looking at his phone to check the time.
It was 4-50 am.
Time to head downstairs.
By 5-24 am, Beach Buoy, Morrissey and a thermal cup of Coffee were heading for the beach.
By 5-30 am Beach Buoy and the Coffee were stood down by the water's edge.
A Fog-filtered Sun poured a sea of milk.
A Fog Buzzer buzzed; oh for the sound of an old-fashioned Fog Horn.
To the North, two sea swimmers entered the water.
The tide was well in.
He headed South.
The air was still.
The few Wind Turbines that were visible were idle.
He headed for the stack....
A gap in the dunes showed a Red and White Scrapyard Crane as erect as a rocket, fittingly it was pointing at the moon.
The incoming tide shaped the south end of the beach like an arrow head.
Stubborn Dog Stack, the point.
The only point.
He spotted the stack through another gap.
He gathered some stones and headed up the dune edge towards the stack.
"Morning Mate..."
He patted "The" rock and went to sit on the dune edge just in front of the stack.
He had reached the stack before 6 am.
He was grateful for such a glorious start to the day.
He gathered some more Rocks.
He sat.
He gathered some more Rocks.
He sat.
The beach was so empty, it almost felt everyone was letting them have this time together but alone.
Skylark's sang.
The Sea rumbled and tumbled.
Beach Buoy looked out to sea as his rubbed imaginary Stubborn Dog Ears.
A Ghostly ship entered The River Tees.
The beach was empty.
He drank Coffee, enjoyed the sea and the closeness of his old beach buddy.
Beach Buoy closed his eyes, imagined his mate was sat beside him and let the sun's heat warm his face.
The sun came and went as a sea fret swirled around.
He photographed some finds.
6-49 a.m.
An early 7 a.m club were heading south.
Beach Buoy had enjoyed almost an hour with his mate in complete peace.
The 7 am club were lovely people but Beach Buoy didn't think that he could manage to chat; not today.
He rose and walked south to a small dip in the dunes and sat down.
The dip both muffled and funnelled the sound of the sea.
Three Oyster Catchers whistled as they flew overhead.
It was like they were trying to give away Beach Buoy location.
Skylarks sang their hearts out.
The sea sparkled in the areas where the sun had managed to burn through and reach.
Strips of North Sea highlighted like important section of text in a book.
A Cormorant skimmed the sea like a thrown piece of slate.
Promenade people.
Promenade Horses.
Later it was Seaham.
No Beach.
Just
Food
Sit
Nod
Stare
Coffee.
At 7-12 p.m. he was back at Seaton Sands.
The last of the day's sea fret was disappearing over the horizon, looking like a pair of giant rabbit ears.
Tail-ends of days out were being played out.
Most were heading back to their cars.
The Sun had heat.
The tide had height.
A lady passed with two Border Collies on two separate leads, head in one hand. They were trying to herd her in two different directions.
In her spare hand she was carrying a Border Collie Puppy.
Stubborn Dog Stack.
It was 7-37 p.m.
"Hiya mate..."
A young couple were at the water's edge.
They threw stones into the sea and caution to the wind.
Beach Buoy placed the Seahouses and Craster stones onto the Stack.
He said the place names out loud as he did so.
He added some more Seaton Carew stones.
He sat on the dune edge at 7-47pm.
Perfect timing for another quiet beach.
Quiet to the south at least.
He sat with his mate as he looked at a royal blue sea, rippling under a light blue sky.
There was a refreshing breeze off the sea.
Time to go.
He patted "The" stone.
"Night night mate."
He headed back with watery eyes for company.
The north was busy.
Pony and Trap
People.
Dogs.
One group were trying to a photograph of their four Dogs together with front paws resting on some driftwood.
One of the four wasn't keen.
"Luna!"
"Luna!"
Beach Buoy reckoned that the little Dog's surname was tick.
It was dashing here, there and everywhere.
He went to claim sanctuary in the van.
BEACH BUOY.
