Sandwood Bay

Each time I see the gate, that takes me to the track, that leads me to that stunning beach. I pause and thank my lucky stars for wild places such as these and an ability to still stagger unceremoniously over the bleak blowy moorland to what lies over that final ridge.

When at last we arrive, our senses go into overdrive. Sky, sea, dunes, the wind and noise. The broad blue Atlantic seems angry today. The ghosts of crofters long gone share our space. The savagery of this wilderness all too apparent on the beach of bones, being swallowed by sand.

 

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