Walking On Water

Walking On Water

So many times have I passed this stretch of coast, promising to investigate further – one fine day. Today was that day – and parking near the local smokery on the ‘wrong’ side of the A75, I walked across. Low and behold – completely invisible to drivers – a beautiful little path onto the coast made itself known directly in front of me.

I’d been expecting having to overcome some wet, and possibly thorny obstacles.. this was a real find. Good start.

I’d driven out from under the pall of a very unusual, for these parts, bank of fog – a real pea-souper. I wasn’t sure how long this seering sun would last .. every hour or so a wind would arrive from a different direction and push the fog-bank nearer.

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I’ve recently seen geese, swans, oyster-catchers, herons, small white egrets, and cormorants along here – from the car. None made an an actual appearance today – although at one point just below the bank seen here – I heard a fierce alarm call repeated over and over .. so I beat a hasty retreat for fear of causing some small-winged-mum a heart attack. In northern Scotland these would most likely be nesting stormy petrels – but I doubt that here.

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It really felt as close to the coast as it’s possible to get. Walking along the shore, below the level of the road, in places, behind me – it must have looked as though I was walking on water. In places, I was.

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Light glimmered. Waves lapped almost silently.

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Millions of small creatures hidden in the sand, mud, water. No humans – except in passing cars.

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Having happily spent the weekend with the dearest of friends in their beautiful house and garden on the edge – of both Edinburgh and the Pentland Hills; nonetheless I know that in my habits I am often a solitary creature myself, enjoying being surrounded by nothing but the land and the sea. It was hard to turn for home .. and back into the gloomy fog-bank.

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As I approached Gatehouse I could see that my garden.. and the lane leading to the estuary at it’s rear were in full sun – while the rest of the little valley town was enshrouded in mist.

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I carried a glass of wine down to the river – not even stopping to strip off my muddy gaiters and boots.

It’s good to be home.

Walking On Water


About largelyhelen

Designer, photographer, writer.
This entry was posted in Life In Focus, Natural World and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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