Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed to the beach.
Rita the meter maid walked ahead of them as they made their way to the Esplanade.
She would be doing the rounds of the parking meters, checking for returned coins.
It's a fixed route that she would once walk with her dog, a Border Collie.
She walks it alone now.
It was 8-13 a.m. when they reached sand.
The orange pre-sunrise sky that had lit up the bay moments earlier had gone.
A metal detectorist scanned the strand-line.
To the north, brass monkey swimmers headed back to their towels.
More sea swimmers, having left their sauna tent, headed to the distant sea.
The lady who walks the full length of the beach, heads back north.
Up along the dune heights, a family walked.
"It's like hills Grandad."
They followed in a line.
Youngest first.
They sent a Murder of Crows flying, as they disturbed them.
The tide was way out.
Hence the long walk for the sea swimmers.
Beach Buoy headed to the wreck.
The tall man with a Corgi watched as his dog rolled on it's back, on the sand.
The wreck today.
It was such a mild morning.
No hoods.
No snood.
No gloves
No need.
"Morning Mate."
They had chosen to reach the stack via the beach.
Beach Buoy added some stones.
Sit and think at Stubborn Dog Stack.
Others came.
Beach Buoy left, back down the little slope, back onto the beach below.
They headed back.
Beyond the wreck others walked the water's edge.
Back to the van.
BEACH BUOY.
