Where mountain meets ocean

We’re nearing the end of winkle picking. Yesterday was really tough, having actively enjoyed the first three days I really hit a wall with it and barely an hour in I was struggling (it’s a four hour ‘shift’ – two hours before and two hours after low tide, you chase the tide out and it chases you back in again, like a salt water based version of ‘chicken’). I was cold, really cold. I’d lost feeling in my fingers and toes, my knees got wet when I knelt down and there was icy sleety rain falling which collected on my hood and dropped onto my nose.

I should have danced and sung to bring my blood circulation back to life. I should have gone and worked next to Ady for moral support and laughs. I should have bloody jacked it in and gone home to drink hot chocolate! Instead I stuck it out and although I was far from my usual 5stone of winkles I still brought home a respectable sack. I felt much better when I looked around and realised all the peaks were covered in a hefty dump of snow and then Ady said he’d found it the coldest, toughest day yet too. Turns out I can cope with being a wuss as long as other people are being wussy with me! A friend then later told me she had been cold all week just going about her normal, mainland, house dwelling business let alone crawling around in icy coastline rockpools so I felt totally vindicated!

Today was much easier. Star even came down and picked for a short while. We are very lucky to have lovely friends living right on the beach who are happy for Dragon and Star to go and watch TV in their house with their children and then make us cups of tea to warm up after winkle picking. Sometimes it’s very hard to tear ourselves away from their house to go back to the croft…

But once we’re home it quickly feels cosy and well, home, again. Friday night is always pizza night here at Croft 3, so music on, fairy lights on, wood burner lit and all is well with the world. Simple needs, easily met.

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