Saturday morning.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog walked to the beach.
They set off at 5-28.
From their front door, Beach Buoy could see the Bay's Wind Turbines turning slowly beyond the dunes.
They turned to head down Elizabeth Way.
Trees that so recently stood bare were heavy with blossom.
Another Dog dawdled stopping to interpret wee mails.
It was 5-41 as they turned the corner to head to The Esplanade.
The Sun had only just broke free of the horizon.
A Cyclist travelled south to north alongside the Esplanade Wall as Beach Buoy and Another Dog were about to reach it.
He looked out to sea, across the Little Tern Nest Site.
The wonderful little birds filled the air with their chatter.
Some sunrise seekers stood at the water's edge.
Beach Buoy managed to take some distant photographs of the Little Terns...
Their chatter is one of the sounds of the summer to come.
Like the Skylark's song or the swoop of a Sand Martin, they are all markers, stepping stones to summer.
Someone walked the water's edge.
From a distance it looked like they didn't have a care or a dog in the world?
They made their way to the beach access ramp.
Beach Buoy paused to take the obligatory photograph of the Rising Sun coming up alongside the southern fencing of the Little Tern Nest Site.
Beach Buoy had noticed that the tide was well out.
The Seaton Carew Wreck was exposed.
They headed for it.
Beach Buoy collected five suitable stones as they did so.
Beach Art or Heart to be more precise, by others.
Let's hope they live happily ever after.
More Wreck photographs for the blog.
Every visit is treasured.
One for luck.
Beach Buoy turned to see an audience of nine Crows, waiting for breakfast.
He scattered some seeds for the hungry birds.
Beach Buoy began to walk southwards.
It was a lovely start to the day.
More blog sun rising photographs.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog getting up and out early so you don't have to.
That random pipe.
About a metre high at the moment, at times it is completely buried by sand.
Not exactly crowded but others walked the beach too.
That random pipe.
They continued as southwards.
They headed to the low level route.
Beach Buoy added two sturdy stones to the make-do sea defence at the bottom of the small slope that leads to Stubborn Dog Stack.
"Morning Mate."
It was 6-20.
Beach Buoy added the five suitable stones.
He patted
THE
stone.
He had a sit and a think on the driftwood seat with an elevated view.
A beach fisherman walked the water's edge from the north.
He dropped his heavily looking box of tackle onto the sand.
He had picked a spot directly in front of Stubborn Dog Stack.
That's O.K.
Sometimes the photographs come to you.
Beach Buoy just sat enjoying the morning.
You never know which sit and think is your last.
Enjoy each one as if it were your last.
It was grand.
There was drama on the beach below...
The tide had claimed the fisherman's gear!
His rod cover and fishing gear box
Both retrieved safely.
He set up once more.
That tide kept coming in.
He had to move his gear a number of times.
Skylarks sang.
"See you mate."
He scattered some seeds for the Crows.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog left Stubborn Dog Stack behind.
One of the party was reluctant to continue south.
Team One Black Ear and the Beachcombing Border Collie Couple were to the north.
In a matter of seconds the temperature dropped.
Beach Buoy turned to see a wall of fog coming ashore.
The fisherman fished in bright sunshine but the fog was on its way.
It was a wonderful spectacle.
A wedge of fog headed up river.
Inland it rolled.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog went to Sand Martin Corner.
They returned northwards along the beach.
It was a completely different beach scene from when they had arrived.
It had gone from sunshine shadows to silhouettes.
The fisherman sat on his box/seat in the fog.
The rearranged meeting man marched north.
He must have been wondering who would pick such a foggy venue?
The outline of the fisherman with his line out stood.
He wound the reel.
Beach Buoy paused, wondering if the silhouette of a fish would soon be dangling from the end of the rod? It wasn't to be.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog passed by.
He wouldn't have disturbed the fisherman but it was the fisherman who spoke first.
"Morning Mate."
"Morning, where did that come from?"
Beach Buoy pointed out towards the sea, where the fog had first made its presence felt.
"Supposed to be good for catching fish." said the fisherman.
It could been both advice or a question.
He added, "Its only me second time beach fishing.
I used to go fly fishing with me dad, competitions and that.
Have you got any tips?"
They had the best of talks, it was more than a chat.
They shared their ages.
They shared the ages and circumstances of their Father's deaths.
Beach Buoy told tales of fishing trips out in a boat.
"Did you have a fish finder?
Our lass will take the piss if l go home without a fish."
Beach Buoy realised that a fish finder must be some type of sonar.
He also realised the stories that he was recalling were over fifty years ago.
Back then Dad was the fish finder.
Beach Buoy and Another Dog set off back to the north.
The two men had thanked each other for a lovely conversation.
The fisherman was from Trimdon, thirty years old.
As the fisherman became a distant silhouette , Beach Buoy regretted not saying.
"Your Dad would be proud of you."
He would have been.
The fog began to clear slightly.
Hints of WInd Turbine Towers and Sea front houses began to appear.
They headed back on foot and paw,
along a sloping sandy shore.
BEACH BUOY.
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