During the course of the walk to the lighthouse, I was drawn to this beach.
I could see a large log that had washed up, and I began to salivate at the other possibilities. I am always drawn to the sight of beach debris, especially a remote ocean beach like this. It provides a link to mariners adventuring on the high seas, and makes me feel, for a short while at least, a little wilder and freer myself.
This one did not disappoint.
This rusty old drum was interesting.
Here we have some plastic bottles, a lovely length of rope, and a vast amount of netting.
The log, as I suspected it might, proved to be the jewel in the crown. It was solid and sound, with the ends rubbed round. I found that, with some difficulty, I could lift one end.
The sheep kindly made way for me – with a little protest – as I clambered back up the slope above the beach, and made my way back home.