Day 22 – Dungeness to St Mary’s Bay - 11th June – 6.7 nm
Another early start to catch the start of the tide, the wind
had dropped a little but it was still a windy no-go. Back to the campsite for a
snooze; except the man wanted to mow the grass, even the bit under the van it
seemed. Eventually we took the hint and left.
The day sluggishly drifted by, I was tired, ratty and still
a little shaken by the range day, and the chance of getting around on tonight’s
tide hung like a shadow. Relaxation wasn't forthcoming.
We headed back in the afternoon; I sat and watched the
water, intrigued by the large boil caused by the sub-surface outflow from the
power station. I watched it wander and change with the tide – intriguing.
But things still didn't look right to me. No go.
It was time for a good hesitant faff, time to listen to the
instincts. Things were not ready yet, but conditions were slowly changing I felt. At
the same time the clock was ticking; Team Manager, try as she might, was getting
a little impatient at my indecision, and day light was not going to
last forever either. But still things didn't feel right – still no go to me. I had
learnt to trust in my instincts, I couldn't say what time things would be good to go – I would just know when it was.
And then a route started to form on the corner, there was a
gap. The wind was easing, and backing N a little. It was dropping to mid to high 20's now, except for the corner it didn't look too bad out there.
I watched. It felt right now, I suddenly felt good to go. I took a quick walk to memorise the line and then, let’s go, now - quick.
I watched. It felt right now, I suddenly felt good to go. I took a quick walk to memorise the line and then, let’s go, now - quick.
I continued north with an eye on the breakers; it was busy
along the coast as the kite-surfers were making the most of the sunshine and
on-shore winds. Suddenly they had all
gone: Tea time? Beamed up by aliens? The lifeboat man had warned me that there
wouldn't be much beach later in the tide, I realised they had got off before
the sand to shingle ratios had dropped to potential embarrassing incident level.
Too late now, might as well go a little further. St Mary’s
Bay was the destination; I looked for a gap in the nasty dump with no luck.
Eventually it was a case of just get on with it you big girl. Helmet on, tensed
for a soggy, shingly get-out, I surfed in to find the massive dump was... a
foot high – much to the bemusement of Team Manager. Mummy’s Little Hero.
It was a long day to scrounge only 6 nm, but I was around
Dungeness, and that would do for a 48th birthday present.
You can only take so much shingle in one lifetime.
