Too long has passed since I last visited Findhorn on the Moray coast. Not since August, I think. That was remedied on the last day of March when it looked as though summer was back again, with sunshine, a blue sky and a calm sea. Only an occasional cold wind was a reminder of the time of year.
The tide was out, leaving vast expanses of rippled sand. We zigzagged along the beach, seeking out the firmer ground for walking. Flocks of gulls floated offshore and rested on sandbanks, only rising when a dog came too close. Oystercatchers flashed black and white along the sea's edge, almost brushing the gentle waves with their wings.
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Across the mouth of the River Findhorn a dark band lay along the water's edge. Raising my binoculars I saw it was made up of seals packed closely together. Wandering to the river's edge I could see there were a hundred or more lying on the sand. A few were in the water, calling softly.
A dozen swans floated past, serene and graceful. In the distance were oil rigs and the snow-splashed slopes of Ben Wyvis. Findhorn Bay was more sand than water. Few boats had yet been launched and it seemed strangely empty. We sat outside at The Captain's Table with coffee and tea and watched the water and the sand and the gulls. It felt like the first day of summer.
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