Distance: 5.27km
Accessibility: Rocks and sand for well over half the journey. Plan for tides.
Landscape: Beachside.
British beaches are the finest in the world.
You cannot beat the pirate ship bit of old seaweed. Dank caves hiding unknown corners of the earth. The slap of wet sand under your feet. Tales of smugglers and thoughts of sea monsters. Better than dry volcanic dust and tacky beach bars.
The huge expanse of Burgstal Gat was a perfect next choice. You might consider the atmosphere gloomy. I love the vast expanse from one mossy cliffside to another. The last stone walls pulling in dreams of wooden ships and bearded sailors.
Plus any large shapes would be visible a mile off. Anything with teeth easy to escape fro
I was happy to get my boots damp.
The weather was an off grey. Poor for August. I assume this was why no one else braved the tide, even this deep were into the summer holidays. Not even a dog walker formed a shadow on the horizon. Thank goodness. I did not want even the smallest paw prints on the sand.
I kept close to the shoreline, and walked towards the cliffs at the far end. After a few seagull cries I was back at those summers with Archie. An ideal space for any four year old. A perfect running arena for burning off energy, without worrying about any obstacles or dangers. 360 safety.
I remember we had a sky blue spade with a skull and crossbones on the handle. Where on Earth could it be? Surely we never threw that treasured item away.
A small stream crossed the beach in a muddy sliver. I splashed across, and clambered over a slippery dune, thinking how many sandcastles had now washed away. Our Butter Mouse Summer Annual special, and the gleeful expression on my character's face. Forever happiness, impossible to touch.
Carnage lay on the other side.
This wasn't the waves of the tide, or the messy remnants of other walkers. Lines and divots scarred the landscape. Heaps of sand formed molehills of disorder. Old fruit cans lay ripped open, their guts spilled in dark sticky patches. A horse fighting a tractor would have had the same effect. The air lost that gorgeous ozone scent, replaced with something stale and meaty.
I glanced around, looking for any sign of the perpetrators of the destruction. But the waves and the seagulls remained my sole confidants.
The size of the beach was meaningless. Safety lay far away, on the other side of the waves.
::Rain is giving me headaches Barbara. Those clouds turned to thunderstorms.
No matter where I go, this thing is there.
I'll call Archie. Tomorrow. From the landline. I'll write down a list of what to say. I will be an adult. A parent. Ask for his advice. All he can do is ignore me. ::
