So much for an Indian summer! I think it came today, for tonight there is a yellow rain warning. Nobody wants that; it’s worse than yellow snow …
I’m in Seahouses, where I’ve taken the precaution to find a room again as shelter from the impending deluge. I don’t mind really, so long it doesn’t do a Devon on me, forcing me to wimp out of camping the whole week. Tomorrow aside, though, the rest of the week looks fine.
My walk was eventful, following a contrived route along lanes, across a ten foot deep gas hole (the workmen let me reluctantly over their plank at strictly my own risk, of course), over the railway several times, and along field edges. None of this was the official coast path, which goes nowhere near the coast – plus ça change.
Then I hit another glorious beach into Bamburgh, where I met photo fellow Ruari and his wife Pamela under the looming, magnificent castle. I was treated most generously to lunch and a pint – thanks so much both, it was great to see you.
More pristine sand took me along to Seahouses, not before I ran into Basille and Karl, the intrepid couple I chatted with on last night’s camp. Such great people I’m meeting on this journey.
So now to await the rain and see what tomorrow brings. Maybe I need to see the Dreamseller again …