A beautiful day, and the last sunny one for some time to come, according to the weather forecast. I have not been to the beach this year. When I was still working, I would often go there in the evening after a day cooped up in a grey, concrete building and go for a long and refreshing walk.
Although the holidays have started and it is midsummer, there are amazingly few people on the beach. The parking lots are not half full and I can even park a 10-minute walk away in a free parking area in the dunes. Normally this only happens in winter. Although the temperature is somewhere between 22 and 25 degrees, it feels rather fresh because of the northerly wind which blows right along the coast. It is ideal for walking in a thin, loose-sleeved blouse to protect my body from the sun. The water seems warm in comparison. although the first touch is always cold. It is clear, in the small creeks even crystal clear. This is unusual, as the North Sea is rather rough at times and so sand, seaweed and kelp make the water often opaque. I go for a stiff walk, three and a half hours with just a fifteen minute break for a drink when I reach the first beach cafe at the beginning of the next town. As soon as I get away from the small access point to the beach where I start my walk, the beach is almost deserted. The gulls make an awful racket when I walk through their territory, places where they congregate and sit, all heads in the same direction. If one didn't know already, now one need to doubt from which direction the wind is coming. It is exhilarating to walk in a regular rhythm on the hard sand, feet in the water. The breaking waves make it impossible to think, and any thoughts which may still clamour for attention are blown away by the wind. Sometimes I have to wade through deep gullies. It is low tide, but when I retrace my steps on the way back tide is coming in and they are treacherously hidden by the water. I know this coastline and its dangers, the gullies with their strong currents out to the sea, and am careful. My feet enjoy the feel of the wet sand. They are given a free reflexology session and foot scrub in one go. I have to cross a nudist beach at one point. Amazingly I only see men, who are parading their pride and glory. Why just men? A bit further on six of them are playing a ball game in a circle, everything joyfully bouncing up and down. And why wear shoes and socks and a sun hat, and nothing else? It doesn't make sense to me.
There are several other things which amaze me. Why do gulls all stay together in one spot, and why that particular spot? And why are there places where shells are heaped up along the tide mark, and long stretches with no shells at all, where one's footsteps seem to touch very smooth sand, virginal almost, the wet grains glistening in the light like small jewels? The answer will undoubtedly be the currents and the dangerous sandbanks in front of the beach of which there are quite a few here. Still is seems a mystery. A bit further on there are shallow footprints in the sand, very large ones and very small ones, some with just the toes and the heels showing, others the complete foot. I try to imprint mine as well, but it seems I am a ghost as I can't leave an impression at all, whatever I try.
Almost four hours later I sink into a chair on a terrace of a restaurant. It is situated on top of a dune with a fabulous view of the sea and along the coast towards Katwijk. Basking in the sun, which is a lot warmer here where we are sheltered from the wind, I revive myself with a glass of white wine and some "bitterballen". When I get up to walk the last ten minutes to my car, my limbs seem locked and I have to order them to put one foot in front of the other. It was a wonderful walk, but they have had enough. It is clear that the "Vierdaagse", a four-day walking event of 40 kilometres each day, is out of bounds.
Summer has really started. This past Sunday our choir sang the last service before the summer break. At the end of the service we said goodbye to the congregation by singing Chilcott's Irish Blessing. We have done it before, but this time I found it rather moving. I must be getting sentimental and dotty.
The Saturday before we had our annual choir party with a bring and share buffet at the home of one of the choir members, a good occasion to get to know each other better, as well as the culinary skills of the individual singers. It turned out to be a great, varied and delicious spread.
Now it is summer, no duties, except preparing for a week of singing in Ely Cathedral, something to look forward to eagerly.
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