Beach Buoy and Another Dog set off for the beach on foot and paw at 3-36 p.m.
At 3-38 p.m. the Beachcombing Border Collie Couple passed by as they headed back home.
Beach turned to head towards the beach.
A neighbour was on the opposite side of the road
He was walking his two dogs home.
"Alright?"
"Alright?"
Both men carried on walking in opposite directions.
It was 3-50 when they reached the beach.
A young, friendly, silky White Retriever came running over
It wasn't clear if the dog to say hello to Beach Buoy or Another Dog?
The friendly dog was a figure of eight pattern in between Beach Buoy's legs, over and over again.
One of the Dog's owners came over to fetch the dog.
All was fine.
The big dog ran off to dig for treasure near the dune edge; sand everywhere.
Someone else was on a treasure hunt too.
A Metal-Detectorist headed towards the sea, then began scanning as he walked north.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed south.
The tide was well in, the breeze from the west.
Beach Buoy mulled over work days that would not finish until 6 p.m.
Winter, dark early nights seemed to last six months.
Now 3 p.m. finishes seemed to help make winter and it's long nights fly by.
Here they were, only the second week in January with a spring-like spring in their step.
Beach Buoy knew more cold weather was still to come.
Age and experience has led him to believe February to be the coldest month.
That wouldn't spoil this bouncing walk.
Not today.
The height of the tide meant that the water's edge and the strand-line were nextdoor neighbours.
The sea, rippled by the breeze had no waves as such.
As each swell reached the beach, it slapped down like a winning hand in a card game.
A Red Ship took aim at the river mouth.
Behind it a blue one follow suit.
A lady was up near Stubborn Dog Stack.
She headed north high on the dune edge with her two dogs.
One white, the other black.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed up to the now vacant stack.
Beach Buoy gathered suitable stones as they walked.
They reached the stack just as the Blue Ship entered the river.
"Afternoon Mate."
Beach Buoy added the stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
Beach Buoy watched as two aeroplanes flew overhead, traveling inland.
It was if the stack was now a navigation point.
Like up the coast at St. Mary's Island, where aeroplanes seem to turn inland and head for Newcastle Airport.
"See you mate."
They returned to the beach.
A slow walk back.
No torch required.
Minute by minute
"Getting there."
Silent Gulls glided out to sea, no effort required.
Light faded a little.
Rippled reflections of dockside lights danced upon the surface of the sea.
They passed a seal pup resting just in the dunes.
Another Dog did excited zoomies on her extendable lead
Time to go.
BEACH BUOY.
