Beach Buoy, Borrowed Dog and Another Dog reached the beach at 7 a.m.
It was light.
There wasn't much of a breeze on the beach, but out in the bay, the Wind Turbines spun and spun.
They headed south.
The 7 a.m. club were already to the north, heading back.
A dune walker bobbed his way to the north too.
Beach Buoy had his old orange coat, luckily it had a large pocket.
Large enough to carry a thermal mug of coffee for later.
Gulls seemed to surfing the breaking waves.
Beach Buoy sipped coffee as he looked out to sea.
He looked to the south.
Today.
Today would be the day that
Another Dog
would see
another beach.
"See you mate."
they headed south via the dunes.
The tide was still too high to allow beach access to North Gare.
North Gare Beach.
aka
The Blue Lagoon.
Another Dog had her first sighting of the extra beach.
North Gare Beach.
Her first visit.
They headed towards the river in the footsteps of a smaller man who was walking with a walking stick.
Once they reached the edge of the river, it became obvious just why the Wind Turbines were spinning so quickly.
The breeze was a wind here.
It blew and blew down the river and out to sea.
Beach Buoy pulled two hoods up.
He drank more coffee and told that inner rush to go.
After a short mooch along the riverside they headed up to North Gare Pier.
It was like walking the deck of a battle-damaged air craft carrier.
They headed back towards dry land.
A jogger jogged by on his way to run the length of the Pier.
Beach Buoy raised a silent hand of "Morning."
The jogger did the same before carrying on.
Yes, the Jogger did stop and turn around.
More Gulls.
The tide was going out, but the sea rolled in as though it hadn't received the memo.
Before too long they were back on Seaton Sands.
Beach Buoy waved to the stack as they passed.
High in the sky, Geese headed inland from the bay.
It was windy down on the beach now.
A man sat on a driftwood bench with folded arms.
As they passed near to the man, it was plain to see that the man with folded arms had a dog with a wagging tail.
Snakes of dry dune sand wriggled its way out to sea
Beach Buoy stuffed his cold hands into warmer orange pockets.
The sound of the Village Church Bells, ringing out for 9 a.m. drifted across the beach.
Good riddance to the parking charges.
They made their way back to the van.
Beach Buoy drank more coffee as he watched the Promenade world go by.
BEACH BUOY.
