Beach findings...

We went in search of beach on Saturday and found it off to the left down a tiny side road over Harlech way. Stopping every half mile or so to reverse back, letting other beach searchers pass, we wondered if they’d found what they were looking for or were coming back disappointed from a dead end.

It was no dead end. Sometimes I can’t believe that these places aren’t signposted, they rarely are, you just happen across them by chance.

Huge dunes stretched before us as we parked the car and walked along the winding, wooden, walkway through the grass covered dunes. We knew it was going to be special before we got there and it was, the wide beach stretched before us for miles as we emerged from the dunes, the sun sparkling on the white tipped waves. We’d found what we were looking for.

The beach, almost empty despite such a beautiful day, was clear and clean, with almost no break to the flat expanse of sand. No plastic bottles, no cans, but there’s always something washed up by the waves, so we went for a wander, eyes glued to the ground, looking for finds.

Now a find can be anything, a crab’s leg, a shell, an interesting pebble, a piece of driftwood, a feather – finding finds isn’t hard, and once found they can’t be left behind.

This time it was iridescent oyster shells, a small collection, a memory of a beach.