Sat 23rd Aug 2025
Duckpool
Three days ago, it was the 19th anniversary of my dad’s passing. It was a date that had gone unmarked. It had strayed from my recollections until I spoke to mum.
I walked up from Duckpool, south. I’m alone. I shouldn’t have been. I was coming camping with you, but you didn’t want to. It kicked off for most of the day as I packed the van.
As I stood on the foreshore earlier, at high tide I heard the distinct rumble of rocks and pebbles as the ebbing waves dragged them back. Contemplating the beauty I was tinged with sadness. The pain of walking away from you, echoes.
It revolved around gaming but it’s more than that. It relates to the situation, to separation. It’s a horrible situation and one of great pain all around. I’m glad I have family and friends to remind me that I’m not the horror I’m told I am. It’s too easy to blame.
Sunday 24th Aug 2025
Duckpool to Sandymouth
Up early. The walk to Sandymouth was quiet and calm. A still morning. As the sun rose, the morning chill ebbed. Cattle and sheep greeted me on the path. A mother and her calf bucked in what seemed joyful play. My mind is at peace today. Although I still carry the burden of yesterday’s trauma. I’m not looking forward to coming home, even though I miss the you. Maybe I’ll stay another night. The prospect of walking north from Duckpool is intriguing. What lies over the hill once the steep path is climbed.
I wish I had someone to share a cup of coffee with, but I know I need to be comfortable with myself before another.
It’s so peaceful sat on the threshold of the van. The coffee is strong. The sun shines in. A slight breeze and sheep bleat. Crows caw. Birds chirp. A bee buzzes by. A Sparrowhawk chases a small bird. The turn of a wing carries on the wind. It escapes. I feel alone but at peace but my thoughts drift to you.
A child beckons.
“Mum, take a picture. Mum, take a picture.”
A coffee pot. A gift from my parents which now acts as a memento mori. It’s functional, 19 years almost to the day after my dad’s passing. I miss him. Life might be different if he was here. I think his death had a profound impact on my wellbeing.
A murder of crows flies up the valley. The sun catches their wings.
The day warms, the carpark fills.
As the tide drops back, the beach becomes exposed and small waves peel right. I feel a spark and a desire to reconnect.
The walk north from Duckpool was a steep long climb. Sweating I arrived at the bench I saw the couple were sat on this morning as I walked south to Sandymouth.
As I arrived at the bench swallows turned in the sky at eye level, sometimes lower. I realised why. A cloud of midges of some description hung low. I was covered. My camera got covered. My bag too. They were all in my hair. I had to cover myself in my shirt like I was photographing large format. I dread to think what tomorrow will bring as I continue to be bitten alive.
Monday 25th Aug 2025
Duckpool to Rane Beach
Strong easterlies this morning which swing south. The sun is shining. Walking the path with a sense of wonder you think what’s around the corner. You get there, and you think the same again, but I must stop walking, stop seeking to look around the corner in anticipation. Turn around and face what you have turned your back on.
Surfed. Amazing.
I think I am going to come home tonight and whilst I long to see you, I am filled with a sense of dread.
1 comment
It’s great to read your words Mark,I didn’t realise it was that long ago that your Dad passed, I see your Mum occasionally but I hope you are doing well mate Rich