Beach Buoy headed to the beach alone.
Another Dog was having none of it.
She was sound asleep.
It was 6-07 when Beach Buoy's boots touched sand.
There were some unusual contours in the sand.
He headed south as the 4x4 Border Collie Couple returned to the car park.
Just a sunshine shadow for company.
A little slope
Becomes a big slope.
A stream
Becomes a River
An argument
Becomes a war.
He continued southwards.
Three ships left the river behind.
It always seems odd them leaving on such a low tide.
The channel must be very deep?
A Sand Martin swooped, almost tapping Beach Buoy on the shoulder.
As if to say.
"Where's your mate at today?"
Beach Buoy walked the "easy" route.
It was starting to become a little more overgrown as Dune Grasses reached out for the Sun.
It was too late, it was already beginning to do shorter sweeps.
Heading for another season.
6-38.
"Morning Mate."
He added some stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He drank coffee as he sat on the driftwood wedge about a metre long.
Skylarks sang.
You never know when the song will be the last song
They don't say goodbye.
They just fall silent and leave.
The three almost identical ships that left the river took an almost identical route.
Two more ships took aim at the river mouth to replace them.
"See you mate."
Beach Buoy decided to continue South along the dune edge.
Plants bloom at the south end the dunes.
The long underground fingers of Sea Buckthorn have yet to reach this far.
Beach Buoy stepped down onto the beach below.
His hayfever had kicked off big time.
He felt as if he had been pepper sprayed
Beach Buoy spotted an orange plastic bottle.
He went out of his way to beach clean it.
A sea alley was nearby.
Like a thank you from the beach.
It's odd how many times this seems to happen.
North Gare Pier and The Tank Traps from Sand Martin Corner.
Slow walk back.
The man who once had a Beagle but now has a Spaniel walked the length of the beach with him.
They chatted as they walked.
BEACH BUOY.
BEACH BUOY.
