Tuesday.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog reached the beach at 6-28 a.m.
The lady who once fell off her bike was walking The Esplanade with her companion.
They walked to the southern end wall before returning north.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed to the sea.
The tide was well out.
There was a cold wind from the north.
Two hoods were up.
Fingerless gloves were on.
It all looked a little four seasons in one day out in the bay.
The Broken Yoke.
Beach Buoy collected five suitable stones for Stubborn Dog Stack.
A man walked up along the "easy" route in the dunes.
His pace suggesting that he was late for a bus.
Two hoods came down.
Beach Buoy felt warmer.
"Morning Mate."
It was 6-52.
Beach Buoy added five stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He sat briefly on the driftwood plank with plenty of rust.
"See you mate."
They continued south, through the dunes.
Along dune pathways and passages cut by footprints and seafront winds.
Despite the strong cold wind, a Skylark hung above the dancing dune grasses, singing the sweetest of songs.
Across The River Tees.
Back to Seaton Sands.
They cut through the Tank Traps.
Back to the village.
The Sun shone.
Shadows joined them.
The sea was rough.
The walk was bracing.
Mr. Gunn/Lunn and excellent dog Alfie were heading south.
They stopped to chat.
Alfie trotted over for a neck scratch and ear rub.
They went their seperate ways.
The man with three dogs who once had four.
"Morning."
"Morning."
"You alright?"
"Yes. Fresher today !"
The wreck today.
Almost fully reclaimed by the protective sands.
BEACH BUOY.
