Sunday 25 February 2024

Friday 23 February 2024

wandering pace

 23rd Feb 24, Buston, 8am

A beautiful, fresh morning for a run.

On the way back down the beach I had to slow down to a wander to better appreciate the day.

Friday 16 February 2024

pools and puddles

 16th Feb 24, Boulmer to Howick, 8am

I had to avoid the puddles on the path but was drawn down onto the beach for the reflections in the pools on the shore.

It would have been nice to run along the sand but a lot of sand has gone and I'd have been scrambling over rocks round the headland.

Tuesday 13 February 2024

stubborn ponds

 13th Feb 24, Bamburgh, 1pm

The sky was blue, the sea was flat, the only reminder of recent tortuous weather was the extensive flooding in the Bamburgh dunes. 

The pools have been stubbornly refusing to dry out all winter.

Monday 12 February 2024

twixt puddles and the sea

 12th Feb 24, Warkworth, 3:30pm

Squeezing between the puddles and the high tide to keep my running shoes dry.

tide's in...

11th Feb 24, Buston, 4pm

High tide stole the beach but we were happy watching the sudden sunshine spotlight the waves.

Some things hiding last the edge of the path...

Saturday 10 February 2024

after the storm with no name

 10th Feb 24, Warkworth, 8am

A misty start to the day which followed a bleak day yesterday of strong easterly winds that kept me away from the coast.  We've had so many storms with names this winter and yet this one, as bad as the others, had no name.

The tide has been right up biting at the dunes again.  The spray from the waves is stuck in the vegetation 20 feet up the bank.

The sea had retreated for low tide but out in the mist I could hear it raging on.

This little baby was exhausted by the sea and was sheltering and sleeping right up at the dunes.  I marked his position on the beach to warn other dog walkers and called him in to the rescue people.  I expect there's a fair few seals having a rest on the shore just now.

The stormy tide has uncovered more WW2 structures. This one built of cement sandbags with the hessian sacking still there. 
I find it intriguing and moving to think of the men who laid those bags in place in 1940. Those same men (or others) who then manned these positions waiting for an invasion which was expected any day. It must have been a lonely, frightening place knowing that you and your rifle could be facing a beach full of heavy war machines. No more than a slightly annoying fly to be swatted out the way but prepared to make a stand for your family and ‘king and country’ 

They say “look out the window 
Watch the sea beyond the strand” 
It’s a canny wee bit scary 
The thought of fighting on the sand 

But we think about our friends back home 
And we know we’ll make a stand 
For our castle in the distance 
And our mile of golden sand.