TYNE

Under The Radar

January 2019 

I've generally turned my back on big races and instead seek out small, independent ones.  One of the best I've discovered is here, at the edge of Dunbar, John Muir's home town.  In this place, out of sight of his tyrannical father, Muir had freedom to play 180 years ago. 

The race - the East Lothian Cross Country Championships - has an innovative approach, free of some running conventions and with an irreverent, family atmosphere.

It was a connoisseurs' route - along field and shelterbelt edges then trails though policy woods.  The highlight was meeting the shore, crossing the Hedderwick Burn, and haring along the dune tops.  Course dictates distance,  not the other way round. 

Racing, even at my pedestrian pace, is quite primal - moving as a pack, chasing the quarry of the runner ahead, having a heightened awareness of surroundings.  But it's a narrow vision - seeking line of least resistance, avoiding roots and judging wee inclines to maximise economy.  The frustration is that you glimpse something of interest but can’t stray. 

A warm down, however, gives that chance, so I returned to the back of Belhaven Bay.  It is an expansive wild place, close to settlement, yet broadly hidden.  You could hardly even see the sea or main beach, tucked behind spits of shifting land. It was eerily quiet given the evidence of the force of nature here, with eroded dunes, uprooted trees and snarled or snapped pines.

From old maps the dynamics of the coast are clear, Spike Island wasn’t shown on the first edition OS. In contrast to the flowing elements shaping change over time, the sands are regularly punctuated with the stubs of timbers, concreted in place in 1940 to ensnare a potential silent invasion of German gliders coming in over the North Sea.

On the beach I slipped off my trainers for the freedom of going barefoot. It is difficult to overstate the difference to being shod. You sense your back straighten and tread soften.  My footprints on the sand could have been made by two people.  The barefoot ones half the size - just forefoot and toes, and half the depth.  The feel of sand between the toes was good

Barefoot helped to feel and reveal the diversity of the beach. The flows from the Tyne bring silty soil from arable land, reddish, softly yielding.  Adjacent were beds of cockles, exposed at low tide.  I was cautious with my footing to avoid opened shells.  Closer to the sea, wave patterns shaped the sand, low points held water, whilst the casts of thousands of lugworms created their own spiral patterns and hollows.

There were areas of brackish calm away from flows where I felt the bristle of coarse vegetation underfoot and instinctively moved away, aware of their struggle to survive. 

The tide was quickly coming in and the skies threatened rain.  It was my time to retreat and put shoes back on.