a secret beach

It was a 5 minute walk down a track. We parked at the end of (the very aptly named) Beach Road. I was expecting a stretch of beach, a few moments of fresh sea air and then an about turn back to the car. Very good.

The track ends and there are several benches all facing out to sea. Perched atop a cliff looking down onto the open sea, sand as far as you can see and not a single soul in sight... A beach of ones own.

Look at the water. We need to go, I said.

We looked for the path and we saw two souls; a lovely old couple snuggling on a bench with a flask of tea between them. Lovely. I wish I had some tea, I said. We didn't need tea though not with a whole beach. There was a plaque tacked to the cliff in commemoration of the man who carved the path down to the beach. He was a good man. We said a quick thank you and then made our way down the path. Let's gooooo.

Apparently I can't run in a straight line...
Photo by L. Stokoe

I dropped my bag, took off my shoes and ran to the sea. It felt good. The only footprints in the sand. The water was freezing. The North Sea in March is very cold. Makes you feel alive. Your toes throb red in the cold and you find yourself squealing and puffing with the cold. ALIVE. I highly recommend it, but you'll have to find your own secret beach.