Seals, Swans & Sun: A Walk At Findhorn

Too long has passed since I last visited Findhorn on the Moray coast. Not since August, I think. That was remedied on the last day of March when it looked as though summer was back again, with sunshine, a blue sky and a calm sea. Only an occasional cold wind was a reminder of the time of year.

The tide was out, leaving vast expanses of rippled sand. We zigzagged along the beach, seeking out the firmer ground for walking. Flocks of gulls floated offshore and rested on sandbanks, only rising when a dog came too close. Oystercatchers flashed black and white along the sea's edge, almost brushing the gentle waves with their wings.

Across the mouth of the River Findhorn a dark band lay along the water's edge. Raising my binoculars I saw it was made up of seals packed closely together. Wandering to the river's edge I could see there were a hundred or more lying on the sand. A few were in the water, calling softly.

A dozen swans floated past, serene and graceful. In the distance were oil rigs and the snow-splashed slopes of Ben Wyvis. Findhorn Bay was more sand than water. Few boats had yet been launched and it seemed strangely empty. We sat outside at The Captain's Table with coffee and tea and watched the water and the sand and the gulls. It felt like the first day of summer.

An Afternoon at Findhorn

A kayaker heads out to sea

Sometimes the sea rather than the mountains calls. The wide open space of a vast beach and the surging sea stretching into the distance can feel as wild as any summit. The coast at Findhorn is the nearest to my home and a place I visit several times a year, each time thinking I mustn't leave it so long before I return again.

Findhorn Beach

On this late November afternoon the sky began blue with a bright sun then slowly faded to grey as clouds swept in from the west, thin at first and then gradually thickening and darkening. The tide had just turned and was still high on the beach, roaring against the shingle. Out beyond the crashing waves in calmer water rafts of common scoter ducks floated on the sea, their dark mass dotted with splashes of the white of eider ducks. Oystercatchers ran along the water's edge and gulls soared overhead.

The tide surges

The tide retreats

I wandered down to the sea's edge. The foaming water raced over the sand to lap against my feet then slid back across the barely sloping beach, leaving streaks of white.

By the time I reached the curving shingle spit that marks the curving narrow mouth of Findhorn Bay the sky was mostly clouded, the water pale and shining. A lone kayaker let the racing tide carry his craft out towards the open sea. Out on a sandbank lay the dark silhouettes of seals, their mournfall cries carrying across the water.

The mouth of Findhorn Bay

Findhorn Sunset

After sunset, Findhorn Bay

Days of storm and snow followed by rain and thaw. The clouds low and dark, the wind bitter and strong. December in the Scottish Highlands is usually challenging and fierce and so it is this year. Escaping the savage weather for a while we headed away from the hills to the coast, to the flat sands and vast skies of Findhorn. Here the wind was less severe and less chilling. The coldness was in the grey waters rather than in the air. 

A vast sense of space

Across the stony beach the sea rippled and surged but without the crashing waves of winter storms. Ragged clouds streaked across the sky above. Oystercatchers whistled past and darted over the sands. A long rising and falling melancholy call rose above the sound of the sea. Out on a sand bank the dark shapes of seals were lying at the water’s edge. Across the mouth of the River Findhorn more lay on the beach below Culbin Forest. Their almost-human haunting cries followed us as we wandered round the sand spit to the vast tidal basin of Findhorn Bay.

Findhorn Bay

A lone eider duck floated on the ebbing waters. Wild cries overhead marked the passage of a large flock of geese. The low sun sank behind the dark pines of Culbin Forest and the sky was soon streaked with pink clouds that were reflected in the shimmering water. The first lights were appearing in Findorn village as we left the bay.

Shimmering light, Findhorn Bay