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.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s