Sarah Sat Nav

I have a new toy.  She's an early "from me to me with a little parental contribution" present.  Timely.  Where was she all my life?  Oh but she is bossy.  I took her up to the valley of the rocks on Exmoor for a little run as I was 7 O'clock restless and knew me and God weren't going to sit and chat anytime soon.  Sarah S N suggested and then INSISTED I turn left - but I went up over Stoke Hill to drive the valley road with its twisty route.  It brings out my inner rally driver, this route up to Lynton.

Daffodils and puddles, sandbags on the doorsteps, boards up along the harbour beach entrance wall.  But instead of a storm, there was sunshine.  I spend some time photographing boats in the harbour and the lumpy chains that hold them down, avenues of posts like some kind of wood henge.  Sunk deep in a sofa in the Lynmouth tourist information cafe with a fluffy cappucino, I read the book I couldn't sit still to read earlier - a second reading of "There are no strong people" by Jeff Lucas.  It's been a tough week. The coast path winds up a steep climb and I emerged breathless and sticky into the wind and deep shadowed green of the coast.  Bent and twisted trees, bright sharp gorse and layered rocks in the sharp clear light of a pre-storm day.

I feel my soul fill up again and a burst of happy joy.  I love this place, it's my refuge.  Down the goat track path to the "alternative" beach with it's deep driven green bowl sides, gritty grey sand and the most magnificent sea with creaming waves, blown sea spume, froth and bubbles.  There is just nothing like the sound of the sea and the sight of all that spray bursting up in front of you to make you relax.  I take photo after photo and watch and listen.