Made a decent start in favourable conditions. Spent the morning reflecting on Scotland, such an incredible experience.
Had to negotiate Holy Island which is only really an island at high water. As I meandered carelessly inside the surfline I looked left and, reminiscent of the Aberdeengate, a wave was inescapably shouldering. Not a whopper but enough to have me bongo sliding towards some nasty looking posts. Luckily got enough purchase with my brace to slip off the wave and hastily retrieved my map and had some stern words…with myself.
I kicked on well and took in the ruined Dunstanburgh Castle. The sun was blazing, so for the first time in days I went cagless. This was absolutely liberating, until the cold wet crash of a wave. No stern words needed, I spent the rest of the day suffering for more meandering.
Exerted but not knackered I rolled into Amble. The first offering, an infinitely long beach with a fairly kind landing and some dunes to camp on. I made the boat safe and hiked a mission to Amble. Past all sorts of washed up debris and a foul smelling dead seal. Eventually I made it to the harbour, only 100 yards from the town but separated by a river. It dawned on me why the beach was so quiet and I realised I was wild camping. Missing my Guinness was one thing but I had run out of water. It was a mile in the opposite direction to a caravan site where I got water and kind Frank ran me into town from where, at the co-op, I furiously purchased anything and everything I fancied.
Not a total loss of an evening and another decent chunk out of the east coast. Tomorrow? More of the same.