Sea dogs at Filey

Traveled to Filey on the spur of the moment. After walking past Eller Howe Haven a quick look at the beach reminded us that high tide was only just beginning to ebb. Some stalwart people with a huge Alsatian were determined to cling to a narrow spit of beach.  Abandoning any idea of exploring the beach, we decided to walk up the nearby valley leading to Glen Gardens. Interestingly, at this time, in early September, trees and plants having long gone to seed are preparing for winter. A sudden rustling noise amongst the fallen dry leaves, turns out to be a squirrel searching for food. When it sees us it jumps on to a tree, spreading its legs, it remains horizontal on the lower trunk frozen,  a foot above the ground. Then a ray of optimism, a little surprise, a bright pink cluster of cyclamen light up the drab sloping hillside. The sound of a gentle tinkling stream, on our left, amplifies the serenity of this short diversion. At the top we reach Glen Gardens and, though people are still about, the ‘bucket and spoon’ shop is shuttered, the children’s go-carts, 20p a slot, are gone. On the boating pond, boats are gathered in, moored in a group waiting to be removed and stored. How quickly the season changes, children are back to school and the facilities here are not now in demand. A walk to the hidden cafe near the bandstand rewards us with a scone and tea. Sitting inside, looking at the curving, multi-panelled windows, the lower portion of which dressed with a tucked curtain, the clean tables, lack of muzak, a general ambience of homeliness made it  a reassuring place to be. I begin to fantasise that Miss Marple may walk in, or perhaps Captain Mainwaring. We realise that they needed to close soon, we leave, with some damsons. Walking on, down a steep path  we wave to an elderly gentleman sitting outside his house. It is situated at the top of the steep hill, it has a delightfully kept small garden. He sits in a small  patio area, in his small, rather precarious, terraced garden. The downward path snakes over worn steps to the beach road where we decide to head towards the Nab. Passing Ravine Road, walking by the amusements, coffee shops, grounded fishing boats, their rusty Leyland and BMC tractors seemingly abandoned, we reach the beach. The tide is ebbing, revealing wet sand. We walk on, over sea cleaned sand. Passing large remnants of flotsam we reach the Sailing Club where we sit on a concrete slipway. I get out my sketchbook, quickly draw out the view, sailing club, cliffs and nab (Brigg). Adding colour, I spot people exercising their dogs, quickly I add them. There were two couples, each had a dog. One couple moved off before I could could sketch them, but I managed to include their dog ( the golden one in the picture ). FSD was on a mission to paint rocks /stones. I left my sketchbook propped up, and walked over to find her painting, intensely observing several small rocks of different colours. Later she applied a ‘Jackson Pollock’ technique, interesting and …. er colourful.

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