So I decide to drive 280 miles to Dungeness, it’s the longest day of the year, it’s Wednesday, it’s hot, it’s 35C, empty and all mine.
The coast fascinates, it pulls with some invisible force. We go as far as we can, to the edge of our land and congregate at the border. Some step across, just a few feet, before retreating to the security and familiarity. But what brings us? Why do we gather at such a place? I have my list of reasons and when I think about them on a cosmic scale they feel pretty silly. Because it’s beautiful. Because I like the sound of the ocean. Because that is where all the roads end.
But I wonder if there is something deeper that brings us. I have no clue what that is though.
And like everyone else, I gather here and linger, pulled by something far older than myself.
I trudge the gravel, photographing anything that sticks out.
The faint smell of oil oozing from dozens of decaying engines on rusted frames
Once used to winch boats onto the shingle.
Scattered shacks break the desert landscape, all with a presence that demands a photo to be made.
Tide and time
Take a step, you move in time
And it’s not always back
It’s a magical place. Once there, everything becomes simpler.
A journey I will remember for a very long time. In fact I guess it will stay with me for all time.