Beach Buoy and Another Dog reached the beach car park at 7-06 a.m.
Two illuminated cyclists had gone as far as they could at the south end of the promenade. The two promenade regulars headed back north, side by side, chatting as they rode.
A couple with a brown and white Spaniel headed down the beach access ramp.
Beach Buoy stood at the side door of the van. There was a defining moment, Beach Buoy reached into his coat pocket.
Out came the torch.
"Won't need that for a while." thought Beach Buoy.
He placed it in the organiser that is attached to the rear of the passenger seat.
The torch may not be needed but the coffee was.
Beach Buoy put the thermal mug of coffee into his beach bag.
Beach book next, alongside.
They headed down the access ramp.
It felt quite mild, although there was a slight breeze from the south west.
They headed towards the water's edge.
A Lady with a white retriever headed south.
The tide was out beyond the Seaton Carew wreck.
The couple with the Spaniel headed north on the water's edge. The squeak squeak of the dog's toy gave a clue as to their location.
Beach Buoy checked the time of the sunrise; 7-50.
Lights still twinkled along the sea front, but it was light enough to see for miles.
Over at the river mouth, a long low ship headed out to sea.
They headed south, along the strand-line.
It wasn't that cold but Beach Buoy had put on his gloves.
Wearing them is the easiest way to carry them.
As they walked along the strand-line, Beach Buoy spotted an odd looking piece of driftwood.
It was colourful, heavy with a large steel wire and history running through it.
The tide was well out.
The beach brought Beach Buoy comfort.
Back when he was a child it felt like it was miles away.
In reality it was only a couple of miles from his childhood home.
Back then it felt further away.
Two buses.
The number 7 or 8 into town then a wait for the number 13 to Seaton Carew.
It was a bit like flying to Amsterdam to fly to America.
Sunrise came unnoticed.
The headed up the Sandy Slope.
Recent strong winds had smoothed the slope.
Only the most recent of footprints remained as a record of people's comings and goings.
It was 8 a.m.
"Morning Mate."
Beach Buoy added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
Beach Buoy drank coffee.
Another Dog went on lookout duty up at Stubborn Dog Stack.
A lady walked the dune edge with two dogs: one white and the other black.
The white one made a run for the beach. It laid down flat in the first beach pool that it could find.
Coffee drank it was...
"See you mate."
Beach Buoy and Another Dog went back down onto the beach.
A couple of surfers went into the sea near North Gare Pier.
They turned and began to head back.
The Sandy Slope was on the left.
Two Gulls and Two Oyster Catchers shared stories of the sea.
For some a beach walk is the dunes.
For others it's the water's edge.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog walked a line in between the two as they headed back.
A dune walker stood with hands on hips, looking down onto the beach, Beach Buoy and Another Dog as though he was disapproving of their choice of route.
A black and white dog trotted by, followed by its owner.
The owner wore a rucksack.
The dog's markings made it look as if it was wearing a rucksack too.
The walk ended over a beautifully patterned section of beach.
They headed back to the van.
