You feel summer’s early morning warmth on your back. Looking down you see the square stone steps.  These steps offer a dog-leg route down to the bay. There are 58 steps, to be exact, (you counted them once on your hike back up).   At high tide, you can’t access the beach without their help and they just know how important they are   When the tide ebbs, they silently sulk, no longer having that monopoly.

The sand is still cool at this time of day. Within hours it will burn underfoot and the “down from London” day trippers will arrive. Crowding the beach, with never enough sun cream, making so much noise that nature retreats.  Huge family gatherings squeezing into the tiniest of patches that they lay claim to.  The dogs they bring with them, pant for mercy and search for shade. One of the few beaches where dogs are allowed all summer. You know that because you’re a local and you would never bring your dog here in the middle of the day. You try not to be smug or judgemental, but you are both. You will be long gone by the time they arrive, escaping to the oasis of your garden. Nature’s loan, just for a short time, this bay and this beach.

Gaze to your left and the natural arch in the cliff yawns open, as if taking no notice of you but, secretly hoping you wander through into the next bay once the tide abates.  The sea created that arch and it decides when to offer you that free pass through.

Just above the arch overseeing that side of the bay stands the Captain Digby.  Its short squat form, now a listed building. The survivor of a devastating fire, and a fall into the sea when a strong storm took exception to it.  It stands on guard, fearlessly scanning the English Channel, as if expecting a rematch of the Battle of Trafalgar.

To the right Kingsgate Castle glowers down from a commanding position on the headland. It still defends King and country from all seafaring invaders since the late 18th century. Its underbelly softer now, having been converted into private residences, its grim, determined exterior remains, permanently set for a fight.

Out to sea, the wind farm blades smoothly rotate as the waves roll in and roll out on the shore.  The sea following its own breath, its own flow. Subconsciously your breath begins to slow and follow the rhythm of the waves, rolling, in and out, in and out. The herring gulls bob up and down on the waves.  Just a few more minutes of this bliss of the present moment.

Turning back, you begin the climb up the 58 steps who are still in control of the bay’s access, for now. At the top a final glance back and did those steps just mutter?

“Have a nice day, see you tomorrow.”