On the beach

Ah, on the beach indeed. Not just a reference to my current location, but also had to think of that old Chris Rea song that was a big hit when I has just finished school and was on holidays on Texel.

A lot of history on this island for me: holidays with the family when still a toddler, that holiday camping with a friend just after leaving school, and later I even worked here for a period of two years, commuting from Den Helder on the ferry. What a great way to travel to work that was.

And now, after 16 years absence, I’m back for a visit, enjoying the typical Dutchness of Texel, the picturesque farm houses, the dunes along the coast and the wide and long beaches. But not the sea: the water is still waaaaay too cold to swim in, even if I saw someone braving it this morning. I’ll admit it, I’m too chicken to even try.

Did a nice walk this afternoon, following a path through the dunes, down to the beach. The breeze was still cool and quite strong, so we walked with the wind in our backs. We stopped at one of the beach pavillions and enjoyed a nice beer before continuing our walk. Happy days.

Life is a beach

I’ve been to the beach at Broulee many times and I’ve often wondered what I would find at the end of the long beach. On Saturday I found out: the rocks of Moruya Heads. The weather was just perfect and I had plenty of time on my hands during the Easter weekend to walk all the way there.  I started out at 11am from the Broulee end of the beach and thought “well, if not today then when” and so I walked, barefoot, 6.5km to the other end of the beach and then back again. It was a great walk and while it wasn’t a hard walk, I’ll admit I was placing my feet a bit gingerly later that day and the next morning. Obviously a bit of a princess, and too used to my hiking boots.

Plenty of sunshine beamed down, a few clouds floated over, planes lifted off from Moruya Airport, some unloading flocks of parachutes, ospreys hovered over the scrub, lagoons connected themselves to the ocean, and oyster catchers played catch with me. It was all good.

Why does a walk like this, on the beach, feel so good for the soul and what is it about walking barefoot that makes it feel so different and so liberating? It doesn’t matter why; I had fun and I walked off all those crackers and glasses of wine I had consumed the evening before, which were then of course duly resupplied once I got back to the house and put those sore feet up.