I wake up to more clouds and rain. Sometimes I wonder if someone is trying to tell me something. Trying to tell me to slow down…why do this? Why not just relax somewhere with a glass of vino and a pool in the sun? Why go through this….torture?
During these low times it’s hard not to concede that maybe the voice is saying something worth listening to.
I get started. The beach is wild and grey. Not quite as windy as yesterday, but not calm. I see a patch of blue and take a photo, evidence that sunlight does exist.
This is not easy. I’m being drenched by scudding rain making it difficult to try and schedule in breaks. Who wants to sit in the sand when you’re fully clothed and saturated, large, sodden grains sticking all over? The sand is soft, even though I’ve timed it right for low tide. Sinking down with every step, weaving all over the shore trying to find the most compact route. And the waves themselves are tenacious and tricky. They are once again breaking way out the back, a line of froth and foam. The surge up the beach is incredible and unpredictable. Not for one minute can I become complacent about not being chased by waves. Many times I need to actively sprint to avoid being blasted by an incoming surge.
It’s tiring business. Even the birds don’t seem to be interested in being there today. I see a couple of small gangs of hooded plovers, a few pied oystercatchers, some sort of petrel shrieking plaintively into the wind. But these sightings are few and far between.
I’m very pleased when the track leaves the beach, only to be met with a series of huge sand dunes, stark and bare. Apparently this area has an active dune buggy club that races through these dunes. Today, there is nobody. The huge campsite is completely empty.
I stumble into the walkers camp and eagerly sit down for a break. Tent up and I slide inside, locking the world out as I go about my beloved cleansing routine. A wash down with moist towels. Moisturiser rubbed in, paying particular attention and care to my workhorses, the feet. Change into my warm camp clothes. Lie down on my bed, feeling clean and warm, eating a snack and reading my book. Snoozing if the idea takes me. Bliss.
The sun comes out, warming the tent even further. Luxuriating in this unexpected warmth, the idea definitely takes me.
You have every right to be whingeing, Lin! Your tenacity in such conditions is extraordinary! And despite it all, you are still looking for that colour, that wildlife, that patch of blue… a real braveheart!!