Belhaven + John Muir Country Park, 9 March

Sometimes a walk just surprises us. Maybe a location is quieter than expected and Raf gets to spend more time off-lead, running and running in delight. Maybe the weather shifts and we find some remarkable light, and the sky is washed in glorious hues. Maybe the sunset is breathtaking. Maybe there’s haar and the whole atmosphere of a place changes, as if the world beyond has receded.

And maybe all of this happens in one walk, as was the case on this Sunday early in March. If you saw my previous post, sunlight and haar, you’ll know that we had a long walk on the Saturday at Ravensheugh Sands and around St Baldred’s Cradle, and we hadn’t planned to follow this with another long walk on the Sunday. Let’s head to John Muir, we said, expecting a pretty typical trot round the woods and along Hedderwick Sands. But when we got here, there were a few people on the woodland paths, as is often the case at weekends, so we crossed the salt marshes to the beach, anticipating a walk along the dunes where we could more easily avoid people and dogs, in an attempt to keep Raf as trigger-free as possible.

As we crossed the salt marshes, squelching through the mulchy sections as Raf skipped over them lightly, the low sunshine was glowing through the slight haar.

Belhaven beach with light haar over the sea, in East Lothian in Scotland.

And when we arrived on the beach, other than surfers, there was no one around. This was simply stunning: the glowing sunlight softened by the haar, bringing out the warm tones in the sand; the spray from the waves and the way the light caught the top of each wave as it raced towards the shore. Our long shadows as we walked and Raf’s long shadow as he ran and ran and ran. I shared this reel, as I captured most of this beach walk on video, and at times it felt otherworldly.

As the tide was low, we were able to walk all the way round Tyne Sands - where the River Tyne (seen above and in the first photo heading this post) spills into the Firth of Forth - towards Hedderwick Sands, watching the sun set over Links Wood opposite, and crossing towards the woodland at John Muir Country Park. Again, the combination of sunlight and haar was mesmerising. I always find it amazing how this whole area is transformed by the tides. At high tide, you can stand on the edge of the woods at John Muir and gaze out over an expanse of water, but at low tide you can walk across this same expanse of shore, with only the River Tyne remaining.

Raf was in his element on this walk: joyful at points, calm at others, engaged, completely at ease, just taking it all in. Taking in this vast and empty space (empty of people and dogs, that is, as we were surrounded by birdsong) that was his to explore.

Miniature wirehaired dachshund Rafferty on the beach at Belhaven in East Lothian.

Miniature wirehaired dachshund Rafferty at Belhaven.

Miniature wirehaired dachshund Rafferty at Hedderwick Sands in East Lothian.

Miniature wirehaired dachshund Rafferty on Hedderwick Sands in East Lothian.

The sun set as we reached Hedderwick Sands, the amber glow replaced by this soft pink light. While less dramatic, these scenes were still beautiful. The haar hung gently over the woodland, Hedderwick Plantation, as we walked along the shore below the trees that cling to the woodland’s edge. This stretch of the beach is lined with tree roots, and has been for as long as we’ve walked here, but many more have fallen over that time as storms and very high tides have gulped away the sandy soil, first exposing the roots of the most vulnerable trees before eventually, one by one, they fall. It’s a striking feature of this place, and a constant reminder that nature is in charge, not us. Definitely not us.

I also find this moving, walking along this shore, and seeing these tree roots clinging into the sand. The resilience of this; trees that have withstood storms over decades, that have been battered by the extreme winds of Storm Arwen in November 2021 and then Malik in January 2022, then Babet in October 2023, a storm I will never forget as Babet arrived as Harris left us… and then Storm Éowyn in January this year, the most powerful windstorm for over a decade. These trees are survivors and they know how to dig their roots into this soil. They know how to hold tight. Only this sandy soil won’t hold them. It won’t be the wind that takes these trees, but the tides; the power of the sea as it grabs hold of the land.

But still, for now, we can walk here and admire their resilience.