Friday.
Sunrise was at 5-41.
Low cloud had claimed it.
Beach Buoy sat Another Dog on the Esplanade Wall as they watched a Ship head out to sea.
The Sun cleared the low cloud as the Ship headed north.
The regular cyclist rested the southernmost end of The Esplanade Wall.
The Surf Rake Tractor travelled northwards, like a mechanised Beach Buoy, collecting beach stones.
The ongoing process of turning the nest site into a "tourist-friendly" beach.
Sadly not all tourist are "beach-friendly."
Some shouldn't be let out of the house, let alone onto the beach.
They walked down the access ramp.
”Morning."
To the Esplanade Cyclist.
Down to the sea.
The tide was well in.
Beach Buoy collected five suitable stones.
In flight entertainment.
"What's with all of the talking."
Others began to head south.
Beach Buoy had used a x30 zoom on his phone camera to see who was heading their way.
In time, two men with Doodle Dogs came and went.
"Morning Mate."
It was 6-34.
Beach Buoy patted
THE
stone.
He added five more.
He topped up the wildlife water bowls.
He sat on the driftwood seat with an elevated view.
Sit and think.
The lady with a Pug called Rocko, sat having a think on the grey rocks below the stack.
She took a selfie then did her exercises.
No Sand Martins once more.
Back to the beach.
Back to the van.
Back to reality.
They passed Team Muzzled Dog.
"Morning."
"Morning. Another day in paradise."
The man who once had four dogs passed by with three.
"Morning."
"Morning. Going to be another hot one."
Beach Buoy beach cleaned glass bottles.
BEACH BUOY.