Solitude

On a cold, blustery and showery afternoon, the coastal path around the headland from Arnside was deserted but for a few hardy walkers and me. The vast expanse of Morecambe Bay is entirely empty of the signs of people, and looking into the light the finger of Humphrey Head projecting into the Bay is silhouetted. This is the nearest we get in England to wilderness in its truest sense.

Wifie was otherwise engaged today, so I went for a walk on my own over Arnside Knott, down through Heathwaite and to the coast beyond Far Arnside. As I descended through the woods, a sparrowhawk dodged silently through the tangle of branches and twigs on a hunting foray, but there were few small birds evident. It was the second sparrowhawk of the day, the first scattered the finches, blackbirds and sparrows that were on the feeders in our garden this morning but with no success. That took my yearlist on to 86 species.

I realised too late that in my tiredness after the big walk last Sunday I had made an error while typing up the narrative - and now I can't edit it.

I've had a couple of days blip-free, and one day I took no photographs at all, the first time in over a year. Perhaps I am really beginning to get my blipaholism under control?