Nothing really beats the fresh salt air from the sea, here at Seton Sands. A woman says to me, "You don't see that very often."
I ask, "What's that?"
"A cycle on a beach," she says.
"Best place," I tell her.
And I think, the last time I remember cycling on a beach was on the island of Tiree, from the ferry with my son, Om. We landed at Scaranish and cycled along the coast past Crossapool to Balaphuil just short of the giant 'golf ball' that guides the planes to the mainland as they come across the Atlantic. That summer was hot with blue skies and the atmosphere so pure and unpoluted that we burned. Don't think I'll ever go there again. No reason to now that my friend Dan has moved from his house to the mainland.
What is it about the sea that so attracts me? A combination of sensations: the salt air; the sound of the waves; the birds feeding at the edge of the water; the multitude of shells; the clean sand; the shiver of a rip tide; children on their cycles; the clouds over the horizon; the sun as it sinks in the west and rises in the east; the soft dunes; and the rush of the wind in your face.
