A Day on Swainbost Beach

Of all the beaches I visit, my favourite has got to be Swainbost beach. Now, undoubtedly, part of my bias comes from the fact that this is the beach on which so many of my childhood memories were made. Growing up, this was My Beach.

But I also love it for what it has to offer: the mix of sand and rocks, and sea and rock pools. Places to shelter from any breeze that may be blowing, places to set out a picnic on a rock. I love it all!

Today's visit did not disappoint.

For the first hour, I read and took notes for my Bible study. 

Calum Stewart and my nephew, Ross, were having a wonderful time with their boogie boards, or simply sitting on the warm rocks and chatting.

After we'd been at the beach for an hour or so, some more folks joined us. My Mum - yes, my Mum! - came along with my niece and nephew, Iona and Owen, and some of Owen's friends.

The kids even managed to get Granny to dip her toes into the sea.

It was a very special day for me because the memories that make Swainbost beach such a wonderful place for me were all created with my Mum! Mum hadn't been on this beach since we were children until today, so it was a very special day for her. Today, she made more memories - not only with her own offspring, but with the next generation - her grandchildren.

Even Calum Stewart seemed lost in thought at times.

As the tide comes in, lovely pools form - pools with warmer water than the open sea. I remember playing in this very pool as a child.

Looking north towards the Eye of the Butt from the beach itself, 

... and from the machair. The machair flowers are so lovely at this time of year. To have the wonderful pinks and yellows and purples of the flowers, and the deep blues, turquoises and greens of the sea all in one picture is truly a delight.

Eye candy.

And finally ... just to prove that I did get my feet wet ...

Sunset at Swainbost Beach

Yesterday evening, just as the sun was setting, I decided to jump in the car and head to Swainbost machair to take some photos. See, although I now live in the village of the Builder's birth, Swainbost is where I was born, where I was raised, and the beach is the beach on which I played as a child, had picnics, ran over rocks, and generally gave my mother countless heart attacks. That, I believe, is what childhood is for.

Isn't it?

And so to Swainbost beach at the end of a perfect October day.

Looking South towards Dell,

with the last glimpse of the sun as it sets.

I wish I was able to 'show' you the sounds,

which were as wonderful as the colours you see.

The images did to my eyes,

what the sounds did to my ears.

I saw beauty.

I heard music.

An then it was Time to say Goodbye (can any of you read that and not hear Andrea Bocelli and Sarah Brightman?)

The moon, with some lovely cloud

Looking North, towards the Butt and the Eoropie houses

At this point, I got into the car to head home. I still had to finish making the dinner, so I realized I'd better scoot home quickly. Not that I've ever been known to:

1. rush

2. be late

3. drive quickly.

Lest any of you be under any misapprehensions. 

And then the following happened.

My front wheel decided the best place to go would be into a rabbit hole, which had been dug by a mutant rabbit which was actually the size of a small dog. It went. It stayed. It stuck.

No phone. Nobody around. No choice but to walk. Initially, I headed off with my camera still in the car, but like any good blogger, I went back to retrieve it. That's what bloggers do, isn't it ...

I head across the machair towards Habost machair. You may be able to see the wee car in this photo.

This is the boundary between the villages. This is where the chief of the village may decide not to allow you to cross. He can, at a whim, capture you and present you as an offering to the Great Chief. You may never see your family again. 

Or maybe that's just something I read a long, long time ago about a far, far away place.

I could have walked the extra hundred yards or so and crossed the bridge. But I was wearing my trusty wellies, and a hundred yards is a lot when it is unnecessary, and when you have wee Size 3s. So river-crossing it was.

Some of the cattle, grazing on Habost machair

And home.

Well, not quite. I don't mean this is where I live. One day I will, but in terms of my walk home, the cemetery told me I was almost there.

I could easily walk this walk every day of life if we had this weather every day of life.

As it happens, we don't. So don't be holding your breath for the next one...