Dark Mourne

A long stroll along an almost deserted beach at the National Trust's Murlough Reserve near Dundrum, County Down. With just a handful of cars in the parking area and passing only a few people on the 600m boardwalk down to the shore, we guessed correctly that the beach would be fairly empty. This really was social distancing.

Buttoned up against the chill and facing the breeze from the sea it wasn't long before blood came rushing to warm the cheeks. No need for an anti-virus mask here. We took deep lungfuls of the fresh salt air and immediately felt the benefit.

The sand was washed smooth with no previous steps before us and the sea seemed to have deposited various qualities of shingle and stone in lovely gradations. A perfect case study for a school geography trip and a salutary lesson in the organising power of nature. Here and there shells dotted the sand, washed ashore or perhaps dropped by feeding gulls. They lay with their scalloped grooves and ridges upward, the anticipated delicacy downward, reminiscent of dropped, buttered toast.

We walked until a stream crossed the beach and turned back towards Newcastle, surmounted by the lovely Mournes, a scissored silhouette against a brightening sky. Donard will be cold today, we agreed.  

Then silent reflective thoughts.

How often has this untampered scene been viewed before by people long since gone? And recollected or imagined in the tunes of the songsters who extolled its beauty and missed its presence. This beach has been crowded at other times with families and picnics. Long, bright, summer days. Not now though when our talk is of R-rate, regulations and restrictions. 

Sadness for those whose longings have been cut short.

Dark Mourne.