Beach Buoy and Another Dog set off on foot at 7-11 a.m.
It was still as dark as night.
They left a frozen van parked up on the drive.
The pavement sparkled with frost.
Overnight, large random snowflakes had fallen.
Their patterns were frozen as they fell.
The pavement laid out ahead looking all the world like a Dappled Grey Horse.
As they turned to head towards the beach, the beach combing Border Collie Couple were heading into the street.
They were chatting as they always seem to do, in a good way.
They live nearby to Beach Buoy.
It was still cold.
An overnight flutter of snow had brought a "warming" blanket of cloud.
The air wasn't biting as much has it had been for days now.
Not having any central heating or hot water for a few days didn't help.
In the distance, beyond the Golf Club a dull red glow hung over the hills, towards Redcar.
Not the glow of a busy Steelworks, just a tired Sun, after all it had just done a shift giving a Summer's Day to Australia.
They reached a Slippery Promenade
at 7-27 a.m.
They gave the beach access ramp a try.
It was ok.
Gulls headed West, crying as they flew.
Moments later a larger lone Gull flew directly above them, "laughing" as it did so.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed to the water's edge.
The wintery white part of the beach had been soft underfoot.
Another sign that the temperature was warming, if only slightly.
They walked towards the contrasting strand-line of snow and sand.
The light had increased as they had been walking.
Beach Buoy could see both ends of the beach clearly.
There was a large patch of shingle near to Stubborn Dog Stack.
Beach Buoy reached for his torch.
The pin point light would help locate finds.
The tide was more in than it was out.
The sea was just up as far as the Grey Rocks.
Waves broke three or four steps out.
Even though it was a touch milder, Beach Buoy had three hoods up.
So it was a muffled "Morning Paul "
that headed their way.
It was one of the Distant Wave Lady's Group, minus the Distant Wave Lady.
They chatted a while.
Warmer weather on the way ?
13 degrees next week?
T-shirt weather ?
Beach Buoy would be sticking to the Orange Jacket.
They went their separate ways.
Three Cormorant flew north towards Hartlepool Headland.
Moments later three more followed.
They looked like shadows, caught off guard, trying to play catch up.
Beach Buoy turned to face the dunes.
A half moon looked down on a pallette of pale colours.
A small gull-like bird, possibly a Tern flew by erratically.
It looked as if it was trying to fly in three different directions at once.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog walked to and up a frosty sandy slope.
Beach Buoy added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone cold stone.
The chill from a slight breeze up on the more exposed dunes ensured that the dune sand was still frozen hard.
Beach Buoy drank coffee.
Beach Buoy looked out to sea.
"It's what Tiggers do."
"Bouncy bouncy."
Meanwhile back in the realms of reality,
Two Confident Crows walked the water's edge.
He looked South, watching the clouds change shape and colour.
The wheelhouse of a partially hidden ship looked as if was off for a walk along the North Gare Pier.
It was the Pier itself that was hiding the vessel's hull.
In a few minutes the ship was complete once more, heading out to sea.
To the north the beach looked nice and quiet and quiet and nice.....
The sky to the south was gorgeous.
It was chilly, the colder air searching out idle bones.
"See you mate."
They headed back down to the more sheltered beach.
The sea seemed to have woken up?
It seemed more lively as the tide claimed the beach.
Three Oyster Catchers walked the water's edge in the reflected glow of a wonderful wonderful winter morning sky.
It was a slower than usual slow walk back.
Beach Buoy stopping time and time again to look at the sky to the south.
A man with a beach bag and a Beagle overtook them.
He stopped again.
He drank the last of the coffee.
The contrast of the warm coffee inside him and the North Sea ahead pleased him.
A lady and her friendly little dog headed south.
The northern, usually non tidal part of the beach looked as if was locked into a different season to the south.
As they reached the Promenade, the village church bells rang out for 9 a.m.
The Bus Station Clock Tower stated 1-38.
Beach Buoy headed into the village.
It may be cold but the light was so welcome.
Beach Buoy glanced at the clock once more.
For a moment it looked as if it was telling the correct time.
The clock reading 1-45 at 9-10
The Corect position.
Just the wrong hands.
BEACH BUOY.
