I’ve often wondered if anywhere else has a weather forecast that people write poetry, stories, comedy and songs about.
The hollow clanging of the North Red Sands channel marker buoy echoes around in the waves, it has a simple and striking clang and will clang around by itself for time immemorial. Its similarity to a funeral bell has a haunting resonance. The tide is going out and there is movement in the water from left to right mixed with a gentle swell and very light breeze.
I’m met by an interesting sea which is a combination of tide rushing around the sandbank, a slight swell caused by the wind and the breaking waves in the shallows of the sandy waters. Deep troughs form between steep peaks which curl and roll towards the beach. It makes for a fun play spot and I push against it to get far enough away to surf back in again