Friday 07 August
I am fascinated by our relationship with the coast. Not the sea, that is something I don’t have a real connection with, although I appreciate many do. I also love the fruits of whatever is harvested from it. No, its the coast that I find wonderful. The final mile or so of the dry world before it slips beneath the water.
This morning I watched a steady stream of brightly (but slightly) covered people of all shapes and sizes carrying what they could along the path to the beach. It makes me smile and is a wonderful sight. We are somehow, almost universally, drawn to the beach. This is despite sand getting everywhere, minimal access to water, toilets and the pre-struggle to get everything ready and lugged all the way there in the first place.
What I love so much about the beach is that once there, the only things to do are what you have brought with you or what you find there. No wifi, no distractions, nothing to buy. What I love in particular, about these Norfolk beaches, is the amount of space. The massive length of time it takes to walk from towel to sea, even when the tide is in. The beaches here are mirrored by the amount of sky above.
I love the trinkets that you find and bring home. Reminders of ‘that great day at the beach’. I used to have collections of these from numerous trips when our children were smaller. Coming back to me with a shell they had found. I used to set challenges to find the smallest shell, the largest, the prettiest, the most magical. I used to whisper wishes into shells as a child and take them home. We have a string of driftwood sticks threaded together from our memorable time on ‘la Spiaggia Bianca’. My sixteen-year-old daughter brought a shell back to me at our beach ‘base’ when we were there earlier this week.
Then there’s the tingly feeling of sun prickled skin, tightening, as you walk back to the car or wherever. The salty, tacky feeling of hands and hair and the warmth radiating from faces.
Our love of and for the coast is varied and deeply rooted. Far too many to explore in this single post. But the special memories that are made, handed down, and replayed on our beaches as children and as adults will go on and on.
The Bald Birder 