Alnmouth In Breezy Sunshine…
(Visiting the Northumberland village, 1st May 2026…)
Boats leaned and listed, their fastened ropes sagging in the estuary at low tide,
Oblivious to the occasional landing of a martin, which gouged for food
In damp patches of hardening sand, before flying noisily away with darting wing.
There was a dearth of active waders upon the edges of the channels, waterside,
Below St Cuthbert’s cross high upon a grassy hillock, likely a mariner’s guide
And rumoured to be where the saint was elected Bishop of Lindisfarne by a 7th century king.
The ocean began to creep forth towards the grassy topped dunes of soft sand
And the vibrant channel which curled left around the village suddenly streamed forth at pace.
A pair of terns fussed and screamed and plunged for prey with lethal bills of black,
As the waves encroached, twisting and angling over the raised sandbanks which had spanned
The estuary. And with the added urge of a noisy wind, on the waters crashed and raced
Towards the dormant vessels, their mooring ropes wrenched taut from idling slack…
Pete Ray…
1st May 2026…
Alnmouth was a fine place to visit, its village shops worth investigating and the beach was huge.
The tide was well out upon arrival but by the time I left, the surge of the North Sea had begun to engulf the large sandbanks, narrow the beach to a strip of soft sand and spew its tidal residue into the River Aln, awakening the awaiting small boats…
(The monarch mentioned was Ecgfrith, King of Northumbria… )
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