The view from the dunes at Gullane, with a stormy sky.

Gullane towards Eyebroughy, 20 October

Sunday 20 October was the one year anniversary of Harris’s passing. For us, Friday 18th felt like the anniversary: fifty two weeks since we had held Harris, and twenty six weeks since we had held Bracken.

Last year, the 20th was the Friday, and the journey of Harris’s last chapter is so deeply imprinted within us, in our minds and in our cells, that it could only be the Friday. Each day before had led to that day, the day when our lives changed. I was struggling last week, my mind unravelling, and a friend messaged on Instagram with eleven words that summed up everything I was feeling. Julie wrote: ‘It is hard to relive the feelings of time running out…’

I couldn’t have described this better. Indeed, reading Julie’s words helped me understand how and why I felt so raw. I wasn’t trying to rewind to those agonising days of last October, but my mind and my body were doing exactly this: reliving the feelings of time running out, of witnessing the changes and clinging onto the hope that we might have just a little longer, a little longer… while understanding somewhere deep within that we wouldn’t.

On Friday last week, we had a late afternoon walk at Yellowcraig below a moody sky, with mammatus clouds stretching over the water; an expressive sky over a calm sea. It was the walk we needed on that deeply emotional day.

Then on Sunday, we drove to Gullane for the coastal walk that leads towards Eyebroughy. You may have seen this route here before: I shared this post from the end of July and our first walk here with Raf. This was always a favourite adventure with the lads, and it felt like the right place for this day. Storm Ashley had arrived in the UK with high winds pummelling across Scotland from the west, and even this reminded us of last year when, on this date, Storm Babet shifted our coastal landscapes with the power of the sea.

The view from the dunes at Gullane beach in East Lothian

The windy conditions meant that Gullane beach was much quieter than you might expect from a Sunday afternoon in October, which suited us (or, more specifically, Raf, as we’re still avoiding places where he’ll be repeatedly triggered by people). Arriving on the beach and seeing the clouds out over the water, cloaking the views to Fife, we did wonder if we were about to get soaked, but we headed on anyway. We needed this walk on every level. Getting a few miles in your legs helps, and, for me, taking photos always helps. And for Raf - well, he was loving this, regardless of the wind and the potential for rain.

Miniature wire-haired dachshund Rafferty on a stone bench, tucked into the grassland on the coastal route beyond Gullane.

Wirehaired dachshund Rafferty on a stone bench.

When I looked at these photos earlier, having edited them on Monday, I thought, hmm, does everything need to be lighter? Because there’s always that balance between creating photos that are light enough to appreciate, where the detail of a scene isn’t lost within the gloom, while also reflecting what it felt like to be in that scene. And in these scenes, the light was constantly shifting. I didn’t take many photos as it felt too dark, too gloomy, but I hope you can still sense the mood of this walk. While autumn, the light held the tones of winter.

A stretch of beach, on the coastal route between Gullane Eyebroughy.

At times, we escaped the full skelp of the wind by walking just behind the dunes, while elsewhere we skirted the edge, the marram grasses a frenzy of movement, looking out to sea as the waves crashed below us. This route leads to Eyebroughy beach (I shared this favourite spot here), but the sky promised an early nightfall so we weren’t planning on walking that far. Instead, we stopped at this spot below: the driftwood bench/shelter that’s tucked in behind the dunes, and another favourite place to pause over the last few years - and to literally take shelter from the relentless wind or a passing shower.

I’ve been meaning to bring a few pebbles or shells to leave here, pieces collected on our walks with the lads, and Sunday would have been a good day to do this, to mark the date, but this hadn't been in my mind as we left home. Next time.

The view towards the driftwood shelter behind the dunes, on East Lothian's coastline, near Eyebroughy.

And then, as we left the shelter and turned back to the path that leads along the dunes, the unexpected happened: the clouds split, as if carved apart, and the light of the setting sun glowed through. It was magical. That sense of connection that I can’t explain clearly, but I also don’t feel that I need to. I’ve written about this here before in a thin place. Sometimes there are just moments of connection that don’t need an explanation. You feel them, deeply, and that’s enough.

And so we wound back along these paths, Raf just behind Richard, only caught in glimpses below the tunnel of swirling marram grasses, but I knew he was there, just ahead of me, as he would pause and look up, checking that I was following. The three of us striding along the paths, the dunes bathed in this soft light, until it faded, and we returned to Gullane beach as darkness fell.

This walk will stay with us, adding another layer of memories to this date.