Sunday.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog arrived at 6-40 a.m.
It was sunny and warm.
A lazy hazy mist stretched across the bay.
The Headland was as faint as a distant memory.
The 7 a.m. club head back north along the water's edge.
Very distant waves were shared.
The tide was way out.
There was a pleasant breeze from the south west.
They ran to the sea.
It had been and gone.
They headed south.
Beach Buoy collected five suitable stones.
More Taprogge Balls washed ashore.
Beach Buoy beachcleaned a total of seventeen.
A man filmed the sea and took self-conscious selfies as he headed south.
Team One Black Ear were heading back north.
They stopped to chat.
They went their separate ways.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog headed to the low level route.
Up the small sandy slope.
"Morning Mate."
It was 7-14.
Beach Buoy added the five suitable stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He sat on the driftwood plank with plenty of rust.
Beach Buoy had a sit and think.
He was delighted to see the first Sand Martin of the year at the stack.
The little bird swooped around before disappearing as quicky as it had arrived.
Back to Sand Martin Corner.
The dune grass bent in the breeze.
The sea sparkled like a girl's best friend.
"See you mate."
They continued southwards, to Stubborn Dog Stack.
Sand Martins at Sand Martin Corner.
Beach Buoy placed his beach notebook on one of the Tank Traps.
It was the perfect height and angle to rest upon.
The man who once had four dogs clambered over the grey rocks to reach the dunes.
He only had two dogs today.
Before they disappeared into the dunes, the man turned, giving Beach Buoy a distant wave on the beach below.
Beach Buoy stretched his arms out.
The three and nine o'clock positions.
He raised them to noon in response.
They headed back.
Gulls whizzed by overhead.
Their sunshine shadows travelled the sands.
Their inner-crow.
Team Muzzled Dog stopped for a lovely chat.
Dasher, the Muzzled Dog that dashes, almost skidded on the sand as she quickly carried to change direction.
They went their separate ways.
A Jogger headed north wearing a plum-coloured top.
Possibly trying to lose a stone?
A young lady with a backpack, headed north along the water's edge.
Her small black dog trotted alongside.
( On the sandy side.
Not the sea.)
Mr.Gunn/Lunn and Excellent Dog Alfie had arrived on the beach.
The two men chatted under the chatter of the Little Terns.
As Beach Buoy and Another Dog reached the beach, a ship entered the River.
BEACH BUOY.
