Outland – Morecambe Bay
I knew my long sojourn was about to get more interesting from this point onwards. The coast around the Bay was familiar to me and held much magic, but how would it be should the light not be of my chosen type? I pressed on from Fleetwood and eased my way around the gentle curves of mudflats and desolate seascapes until I reached the double headed peninsula of Walney where access to most of the beaches was barred. Wildlife had precedence and rightly so.
By now I was working to a different tune. It was summer and the days were long and the light was hard so I began my weekly sessions at about 4pm and worked through to 10am the following day, often grabbing a few hours sleep in the dead of night on some quiet beach or, if the weather was bad, in the back of my car.
It was on one such remote beach that I woke in the dead of night to find a guy peering down at me. I’ve never come to my senses quite so quickly. He soon wandered off. Perhaps he thought I was dead. What was he doing out there at that time though… maybe he was a seeker like me.
The sands of the Bay were indeed treacherous. I was never without my tide tables and never took any risk but to hear the hiss as the tide turns and begins it’s relentless smothering of the sands again does make your hair stand on end. Especially when a mile or two out from solid ground.