Is there a better way to spend a day of your holiday than at the beach? We don't think so. In fact, we thought it so good we did it twice. Let me explain.
Tuesday always looked like beach day from the fairly accurate weather forecasts, so from when we rose the packing exercise, sandwich-making and gathering began. We strolled off in the warm sun to see what we could sea. Gettit?
Along the line where water greets the land with a wave, we each find the perfect something to spend happy hours doing: 'Stop' draws pictures of the view or hunts for creastures in the pool; 'Staple Gun Girl' trawls the pools for any form of life; 'Guzzler' plays in water, any water she can find, sit in and let her fingers wiggle in the wet sand; 'Candy Girl' shouts and screams with delight at the sight of any creatures; Me? I just drink in the view, the sounds, everything. The beach is a very special place for me.
So there we all were, doing our do. Candy Girl did amazingly well at finding and capturing creatures in her bucket for closer inspection. She caught any number of the tiny, tinniest hermet crabs you could imagine.
I was intruiged on Sunday, during our walk across the small cliffs, by the rocks and potential caves that occupied the far left of the beach before the cliff forms a point and brings the beach to a close. I took off to explore, leaving the others to find, capture and play.
The rocks both on the beach and on the hills were amazing. All colours strewn out across the beach from tiny pebbles to rocks the size of volkswagons. The cliffs, hewn by the water that lapped at my feet, were sharp, rugged and increasignly gold and copper in colour. Breathtaking. As I ventured inwards and upwards, the path before me was covered, litterally carpeted with black grass. Mussells, mussells everywhere. Tens of thousands of them blanketing the route before me. The caves turned out to be nothing more than the work of the sea at a particularly soft spot in the rock, but the explore was more than worth it. Very special. I shall remember it for a long, long time.
The second beah trip later that day was to the front at Val Andre, a wide arc of beach, soft shell-strewn sand, a perfect place to walk in the evening sun. And walk we did, though shell collection was the main pastime for everyone but me and it wasn't long before bags were full to bursting point. The beach was occupied by many, but far from crowded like an english beach would be on a pleasant sunny summer's evening. The sun streamed down, dazzling off sections of the calm sea like a giant spotlight, the clouds being it's filter. Picturesque, pretty, perfect.
The shower points along the wide promenade provided the next source of entertainment. Guzzler, desperate to wash the sand from her feet and crocs (she does so hate sand in her shoes) decided to press the button for the shower rather than the footwash. She'd done so well keeping dry and warm as well.
As kids scootered off along the prom, we walked lazily, turning to admire the view at every chance.