We say hello to the old man, a German, with an equally old dog, his wizened terrier, as they make their way slowly along the path to Fisherman’s Bay, just out of Port Elliot.
It’s windy, sunny, cool, cloudy, warm on the leeside. Our dog trails behind, busy with new scents, doplets of stories. We head for Seal Rock and then to Crockery Bay. It’s nice to stop there, the bay, search for stones and sea glass, for greens and blues, or stones rippled with Celtic-like swirls,layered and yet smooth to the touch, calls to story, past lives, different memories.