Summer at Findhorn

Findhorn Bay

Sometimes the sea attracts. With a promise of sunshine and thoughts of the freshness of sea air and the spaciousness of a seascape we headed for Findhorn to walk along the beach and round to the bay.

The ebbing tide

The tide had just turned as we arrived and the shingle was two-tone - dark with wetness below the tide line, light and sundried above. The sea was tri-coloured - brown where it ran thinly over the stones, then turquoise, then deep blue. Still sinking down the steeper part of the beach it pounded the pebbles with big waves. Soon it would quieten as it reached the flatter shore before quickly running into the distance, leaving vast expanses of wet sand on which gulls and waders would prospect for food. As sand banks far out in the water started to surface seals appeared, clambering out of the waves to bask in the sunshine.

Culbin Forest reaches the sea

At the narrow inlet where Findhorn Bay pours out into the North Sea the water was racing and surging, rushing fast towards the freedom of the vast ocean. Across the deep channel the edge of  dark Culbin Forest rose along the top of steep dunes, their slopes scattered with fallen trees, brought down by the sea eating into the sand.

A tour boat sped past, fresh from seal watching. Soon Findhorn village came into view and a mass of boats and people around the marina. Here the fresh tide line was green and wet with just above it the last higher one, now dry and dusty. Ephemeral parallel lines, soon to be washed away.

The Captain's Table cafe at Findhorn Marina provided welcome refreshments before we crossed the flower-strewn dunes back to the beach.

Findorn Quietness

With the hills in cloud and the forests and glens midge-infested the coast seemed a good place for a walk so we went to Findhorn to look at the sea and the sand and the sky and the clouds on a day of  soft subtle light. There was a gentle breeze and the air was warm. The clouds were thin but sunshine never quite broke through.

After lunch at the excellent Phoenix Cafe at the Findhorn Foundation we wandered along the beach. The tide was low and the sea calm. Streaks of water ran through wide bands of sand and shingle. Far out to sea yachts drifted slowly. Gulls dotted the sand, occasionally flapping slowly along the water's edge. A tern dived suddenly, plunging gracefully down. Oystercatchers shrieked, breaking the soft silence. Peaceful. It was very peaceful.

As always on Findhorn Beach there was a wonderful sense of space and freedom, a feeling of escape and beauty. We weren't alone. Others wandered the sand, children built sand castles, a few ventured into the sea. But the vastness of the land and the sea and the sky remained. The only jarring note was the sight of the construction of the first beach huts along the edge of the beach. Maybe though, once the machines have gone and the bright colours have weathered and faded they'll sink into the background, overwhelmed by the landscape.