03 JANUARY 2019. SEATON SANDS AND NORTH GARE BEACH.

Beach Buoy slowly slid open the side door on the van as Eight was being struck in the nearby Church Clock Tower.
The car park was cold and empty when they had arrived.
He parked in the North East corner, next to the M/C sign that was painted on the uneven tarmac.
Someone had carefully stood up, an empty drinks can and left it for another to move.
Beach Buoy was the "Another."
He put Stubborn Dog next to the van, hooked his lead over an upturned armrest and grabbed a handful of Midget Gems that were left-over from a recent football match,
two yellow, one orange and one red,; "That's breakfast sorted."
Off they went; heading for a rubbish bin first of all; he was left carrying the can again! They crossed the small patch of grass that is in front of the car park. The grass is still peppered with cardboard pieces that were a by-product of last November's firework display.
The "BIG BELLY" bin opened wide and in went the can.

The Beach was cold and grey.
A couple were  heading north towards the Seaton Carew wreck. The wreck is hidden by the tide twice a day and sometimes is buried for long periods by the shifting Seaton Sands.

The tide was well out.
The wet beach reflected the light that was shining over on South Gare Pier and also the poor excuse for a sunrise beyond Saltburn and Staithes,
It was cold enough for hat, gloves and two hoods up; Beach Buoy had them all.
The beach was clean again today.
Four Seagulls floated together just offshore in a calm spot, behind a bit of a sand bank.
They looked like hook-a-ducks; bobbing about, albeit Ducks in Seagull fancy dress, number Twenty Seven (Only even numbers get prize; sorry) rose from the Sea and disappeared  Northwards, leaving his three mates looking around to make sure that they had not missed an in-coming threat.
"That's odd." they seemed to be thinking.
Correct it is, so no prize!

The wreck that appeared a couple of days ago could be seen again today amongst the  breaking waves.

It felt as if it was becoming colder. Beach Buoy made fists with his gloved hands and tucked his cold finger ends into their warmer palms.

The Sea Serpent was taking a bit of a battering from the sea. The fish in the numerous local fish shops were fairing worse.

The wreck that Beach Buoy had reported to Tees Archaeology a number of months back was almost fully visible today.
It was recorded a new wreck to them and given the number SMR 5090 .
It was around 6 metres long.
Beach Buoy took the opportunity to take more photographs to pass onto Tees Archaeology.. see below.

Beach Buoy hadn't noticed the broken rectangular plate with half a hole before.

Copperwork as bright as a button.

Beach Buoy headed for North Gare Pier and the beach beyond he glanced back at Seaton Sands. You can see SMR 5090 just left of centre on the picture, near to the water's edge.

He ventured along the Pier for a change. The tide was out almost as far as the end of the Pier but the North Sea still rolled in.

A slightly different view of the Sea Serpent marker.
Beach Buoy went as far as the end of the Pier.
A lone fisherman stood on the northerly side, trying his luck as the tide turned .
There was another man with a Jack Russell on a lead. Beach Buoy then wondered if anyone called Jack Russell had ever owned a Jack Russell?
Did Saint Bernard ever have a St. Bernard,
Did a German Shepherd ever.... ah well ... most probably it is a Yes for that one.

As the tide was so far out, Beach Buoy went on a bit of a hunt down by the River Tees. There were lots of exposed rocks to slip and slide over.
A lovely Blue sea alley laid waiting in the shingle that filled the gaps between the wet rocks.
As he progressed, around six Oyster Catchers would take flight for a short distance and then land. They would move again and again as Beach Buoy and Stubborn Dog approached .
It ended up a bit like Oyster-Catch-me-if-you-can.
Either that or they thought he was the Oyster Catcher Catcher!

Beach Buoy and Stubborn dog headed back to the Bay.
The sun came out a little and shone more upon the horizon than it did on the beach. It picked out the white wheel houses / bridges of the ships that until then had been hidden from view far out at sea.
The light travelled  to land and lit up the houses on Hartlepool Headland.
It never did reach the beach today.
BEACH BUOY.

02 JANUARY 2019, SEATON SANDS, HARTLEPOOL.

Beach Buoy and two dogs left the house at 8-05am.
Only one house in the street was festive enough to still be showing flashing its lights.
The street lights were all out apart from which stood alone illuminated, defiant and proud or maybe just a faulty switch?
Beach Buoy pulled into the car park.
Two Seagulls stood having a shouting competition.
It was a draw.
It wasn't as cold as it looked but was fresh all the same.
The sea was grey, lumpy and roared.
The sky was grey and full of swirls.
Beach Buoy put two hoods up over his Hartlepool United Dut as he headed south.
The hoods didn't last long all they succeed in doing was to push Beach Buoy's hat over his eyes.
Two Oyster Catchers hugged the sea as they flew North just above the surface.

There was hardly a breath of wind but the sea was wild.
Beach Buoy counted seven steps of breaking waves going right out into the bay, even beyond the Sea Serpent. It was so rough out there that the horizon looked uneven with the sea's peaks and troughs.
In complete contrast, mirror flat water laid on the beach.
It reflected the greyness of the day. 

There was a vast expanse of wet sand to the north, reflecting the village onto the beach.

At the Gares, the sea was a foaming mass.

At the anti-tank blocks something made Beach Buoy look up; it was a Kestrel just hanging there directly above him.

The Blue lagoon was sheltered from the increasingly colder and stronger wind. The dunes muffled the roar of the sea in the bay slightly.
The force of the rough sea, sent barrels of waves rolling into the river mouth; the combination of an in-coming tide and rough to boot.
When Beach Buoy reached the river, the rain started, it followed the strengthening wind and  the drop in temperature..

Beach cleaned item.

They returned to the bay and headed back following the route that a horse and rider had taken.

They leant on the promenade wall.
It was a chilly, quiet morning.
BEACH BUOY.

01 JANUARY 2019. SEATON SANDS, HARTLEPOOL.

As Beach Buoy closed the front door of the house, he could hear the not too distant Church bells strike 8.
He started the van at 8-01 am.
It was a minute later than the same task yesterday.
Some of the street lights again turned off as he passed underneath them.
He had a short detour to do before it was beach time.

Detour completed, he headed for the beach. He had Stubborn Dog and Sweep for company again today.
It was New Year's Day.
As they drove down Station Lane, an obvious party-goer from last night's celebrations had turned into a home-goer but still with last night's party attire on.
"Must have been a fancy dress party?"
Beach Buoy wondered.
Another of last night's lost was sat on the low wall outside the Supermarket that stood just beyond the Railway Bridge. He was talking into his mobile phone and looked as if he was asking someone for a lift home?
A dependable looking Mother scuttled out of the shop.
With a "Its open; I have milk!" look about her.
Beach Buoy pictured her house, packed with overhung people desperate for tea or coffee before they too, headed out into a Brave New Year, in fancy dress.
"C'mon Spiderman time to go!"
"And take Charlie Chaplin with you!"

A car went by with just one side-light working in the slowly brightening morning light.
"The Bobbies might stop you for that?"
Beach Buoy thought.
"Then they might ask what time did you last have a drink?
Next thing you know- over the limit from last night"

Beach Buoy drove to the Car Park behind the Rock Shop for a change.
It was a shop that sold Rock; the edible type, not Music or Stones or even the two combined as in The Rolling Stones.

As he parked up, a World War Two Tank drove in and parked nearby.
Well, at least that is what it sounded like.
In fact it was a Ford Fiesta with a blown exhaust. It wasn't an old tatty car as you may have expected; surprisingly, it looked almost new.
It definitely didn't sound it though.
The occupants of the shiny, audible car didn't seem that bothered about the noise. They just sat talking, looking at their mobile phones with the noisy engine running. 

As they locked the van, Beach Buoy glanced at the Clock-Tower.
8-20.....
 the art deco styled tower stated as the Church Bells struck for 8-30.
Beach Buoy mused ;
"Some time difference that!
 They are only a couple of minutes walk from each other.
Someone could end up late for Church."
He checked the time on his mobile phone.
It was  him that was late for Church!
About forty years too late.
He stopped going when he left the Boys Brigade.
Typically he had been measured for the uniform, but never did get it. Now there's an idea should he ever get that New Years Eve fancy dress party invite. He could spend the whole night explaining what he had come as.
 He could hear the conversation now. 
"No! Not Thunderbirds!... Boys Brigade!"

On the promenade wall a lone Pied-Wagtail stood watching the three file past, one pulling, one holding and one dragged, like some odd Conga dance troupe that ranged from too keen to really can't be bothered.
It was Pied but there was no wagging going on. The bird's gaze followed the beach-bound group as they went by and disappeared down a ramp to the sands.
Out near the water's edge, the 7 am club were way behind their usual schedulele. They were still heading south; maybe it was a combined New Year's resolution ?
1. MUST HAVE MORE SLEEP-INS?
They stopped the walk short, to chat to another Dog-walker, then headed back north as one; they were a good twenty minutes short of their usual destination.
Beach Buoy pictured another addition to their resolution list.
2. MUST DO SHORTER WALKS?
They came alongside Beach Buoy and his two Beach companions.
 The large friendly poodle came bounding over for her neck scratch. As Beach Buoy had two dogs today, the coming together was less than organised than was the norm.
She got her neck scratch, but there was a mass of legs, dog-leads, heads and tails.
" You've got another one?" the club asked.
"It's the daughter's." came Beach Buoy's standard reply.

The three headed south. 
It was just about a no glove day.
The fresh wind came from the north with a chill that said, "You'll never guess where I have been!"
"Flipping Iceland!"
 thought Beach Buoy.
He decided it was a glove day after all and put on his emergency gloves.
a.k.a Pockets!
Out at sea the sky was, oddly enough, Sky Blue.
To the south, the sun tried to break free from
the clouds.

Up near the dunes a Jogger ran north.
He was completely black, apart from a white "Go faster" stripe on each arm. Even his face was black.
He was wearing a Black Balaclava over his face as protection against the biting wind from the North.
As that Jogger passed, then another appeared.
No word of a lie; he was running backwards!
Beach Buoy studied his technique, wondering that if he filmed it and played it in reverse would it look like he was actually jogging normally. He came to the conclusion it would look fine; it was a good technique. He wasn't even attempting to glance back and check for any possible collisions!
Beach Buoy also came to the conclusion that he may had forgotten his balaclava and that was indeed why he was running bum first.

A lady with three small dogs, all on leads had reached the Grey Rocks.
She was wearing bright red wellington boots.
They looked like they could be made of red liquorice; they were that shade of red.
She took the dogs off their leads, then they and her went into the sea a little.
Perhaps she was testing the waterproof capabilities of the liquorice? Perhaps hoping it would a suitable Plastic or Rubber alternative. 
Beach Buoy was going to leave them be and turn back earlier than usual but when he glanced again, the three dogs were back on their leads on and they were heading north.
Welly test complete!
Beach Buoy continued south as far as the World War Two anti- tank blocks looking for damage and any floating red liquorice...
"That Ford Fiesta must have got in somewhere!"
he thought. " Maybe it was parachuted in?"
The sun came out fully as they headed back south, it sent Beach Buoy's long narrow shadow
(Oy! --- the sun does that!)
it sent his shadow running north, to the shops to buy an ice-cream, stopping it about half-way along the beach to add "Get Monkey blood on mine (Raspberry Syrup.) and one for yourself too!"
The shadow paused, nodded and carried on... meaning it continued north.
It did not not "Carry-on" and start make a flying bird shape, a barking dog head or a Palm Tree (Just a hand.).
Beach Buoy played the shadow catch-up game as he headed back North, never getting any closer.

The morning was spectacular.
Almost a perfect day.
Beach Buoy paid little attention to others as the beach started to become busy.
He eyes were drawn to a man in a red liquorice coat,
"They must be testing the full range today ?" Beach Buoy pondered.
The man was stood directly on the water's edge and seemed to be recording the sound of the sea on his mobile phone?
Or maybe he was having an argument and had just said .."Yer? ....well tell to to the sea!"
 and was kindly holding the phone out for the planned discussion to take place?

Beach Buoy's walk was nearly done; the beach belonged to others now. 

They passed the Clock Tower at precisely 9-50 am or maybe 10am; depending on which clock you went by.
The Church clock struck ten.....
BEACH BUOY.