She stood, transfixed, by the shore.

Traffic, people, conversation round about her: ceased.

There was only the sea, the wide open beach, the crash of the waves on the shore.

She moved, slowly, forward, looking always out to sea.

The wind shrieked in her hair.

Sand stung her cheeks.

She laughed in delight.

She sat down in front of the sea.

Northern sunshine, cold wind, the sting of the sand, the tang of salt water.

Rocks, pummelled by the sea.

Waves, crashing.

She sat, and watched, transfixed.


She wanted to shout.

She wanted to run.

She wanted to fly into the waves.

Energy coursed through her. She knew anything was possible.

She sat watching, lost in the crash of the waves, found in the spray of the sea.

Lost and found.

It was as far north as she could go.

It was the end of the pilgrimage.