(06.13) Morning meeting with Dürten and Paul, then lunch at the CC. I craft a proposal on my exchange with the Foundation, email it off. Ali Sun returns from a long walk; I am ready for a break and head off past houses, caravans, sheds doubling as shops, giant Scotch distillery barrels recycled as homes.
I skirt the edge of the forest, parallel to the coast, turning north with all four wind turbines in my view. The turbines produce more power than the Park uses, excess is sold back to the county. Yellow gorse borders the path, intertwines with the young pines, gives way to dunes, smooth rock, hearty stunted brush.
The ocean appears, it roars as its modest waves pound the rocky beach. Two giant pilings from WWII rest in the water, unmoveable unless a tug boat is ever involved.
A man walks by, a collie says hello. I return through the remarkable, wind-carved landscape, enter the forest, stop for a silent moment where Eileen Caddy’s ashes were spread.