Sitting in the dunes it is very peaceful. A huge swathe of golden sand sweeps out before me, curving around the headlands to my right.
A huge grinning bay, St. Ives on one side and Godrevy Point on the other.
The tide has left its markings along the beach, strands of seaweed and shingle patterned by the currents.
The sun is warm on my back but the breeze is cool enough to make the hairs on my arms stand up. Hairs bleached blonde by the sun.
Two fishing boats are making their way into Hayle, gliding up through the mouth of the estuary.