A study in grey

I took the dogs to Belhaven Beach on Friday morning.  When we left home the sky was an impenetrable grey and it didn't look as though it was going to lift so, stupidly, I chose not to take my camera with me.  How many times have I done that and regretted it?  I have lost count, but enough times to have learnt the lesson - though clearly not!  I cannot, therefore, show you anything of yesterday's walk, which is a shame because behind me there was a brief but beautiful rift in the clouds and a weak gleam of winter sunshine lit up the sky and brought a sheen to the wet sand.  It would have been a good photograph.  

When we arrived it was low tide.  The beach was vast, a sea mist sitting on top of the waves as they ran over the sand.  They were now innocent ripples, all that remained of the massive mountains of water which were gathering and breaking further out to sea.  The waves were huge.  They were North Sea grey, powerful and menacing.  Amazingly there was a sole surfer.  An inexperienced soul who just didn't seem to have the hang of catching a wave because he missed every one.  

Tilly, the camera and I went back this morning to see if the sea was still churning.  The waves were crashing in, but the light was not in the sky today.  It was grey, raining and cold.  However there were plenty of surfers, a few horses and riders galloping the long stretch of beach, and a healthy quota of dog walkers.  

There must be an attraction to getting in amongst these salty, icy cold walls of water but I can't see it personally.  Tootling about at its lacy edges is enough for me,

even better with my camera in my hand.  Lesson learnt now.