The first of the season’s storms has stomped its way through the North West – but which season? A fair question and I’m wondering just that. It does already feel like we’ve skipped our way into late autumn here.
Our own outside weather station recorded winds of 69.1 mph on Sunday afternoon, during the height of the storm – probably while I was on the beach, as I could barely stand, let alone walk into the wind. It seemed as wild as I’ve ever seen it and I began to think I was quite mad to be out there in the full force of it!
I soon realised that the lower I was, the better defence against the wind and I sat on this sand ledge, which had been carved by a combination of the highest tide and the winds. In a matter of minutes, the left hand side of my face was raw – sand-blasted by the ferocious gusts whipping up the grains of pink stuff and flinging them against my skin and onto every unprotected inch of me.
But if you could sit still and take it all in, you soon saw that the wind had an artistry of its own. It had sculpted new, miniature and surreal worlds of cliffs, gorges, ravines and valleys, at times resembling a desert sand storm, as I’d imagine it…