Juneathon, Day Two and I am on the doss already.
Well, actually, it’s cross training day according to Hal Higdon’s Marathon Training plan and, never one to shirk cross training, I whipped on my runners, grabbed Teen Girl and headed off for a walk/jog on the beach.
Much to Teen Girl’s disgust, of course, I brought my camera along. Well, I could hardly resist the colour, could I?
Wildflowers in sand are all about being tough and strong while yet maintaining a delicate demeanour. There is all the intensity of colour but on a much smaller scale and it seems, if they can manage it at all, they’ll lie low, quivering gently amid the marram grass.
Bird life abounds too, Not that you’ll get to actually see much of it. But the journey through the sand dunes invariably sets off the relentless natter of the stonechats. Meanwhile a solitary blackbird sounds his cheep, cheep, cheep alarm call as a sparrowhawk surveys the scene from a convenient signpost.
And there are terns. Lots of them. The sign warns pedestrians to be on alert for tern chicks. They nest on the ground and so are easy prey or the nests themselves fall foul to unleashed dogs or careless pedestrians.
The ship wreck is on its last legs. Grounded in 1984, it stands testimony to the power of wind, rain and sea. Previously ghoulish and majestic as it loomed from the sands, now it barely whispers of its glory days as surrenders to the elements.
And the Juneathon damage? Barely a dent at 2.5 miles. But a grand 2.5 it was, full of wildness, the beat of the sea and the promise of more to come.
Juneathon Mileage: 6.5 miles