A deserted sandy beach is my all time favourite place to be. It is an environment where I can clear my head, breathe easy and think fresh thoughts. I don’t care what the weather is like although given a choice I would prefer wild and windy to still and hot.  Given these preferences, Orkney is a great place to be.

My children love beaches too, but we have rather different agendas. Theirs is to find a good digging spot as fast as possible and then stay there and dig…for hours. I like to walk the length of the beach, combing for treasures and staring with tireless fascination at the sea. These would not be mutually exclusive activities if I could be sure that the boys would stay on the beach. But they cannot resist the lure of the sea. Seemingly undaunted by any weather conditions, Fenning is always the first to dispense with his clothing and leap naked into the freezing waves. Miles and Dale do that most annoying of things: run in to the water fully clad then run back up the beach to peel off their wet clothes and dump them in a sandy heap. The last time they indulged in a skinny-dip was earlier this month. I laughed at their sheer madness (safe in my cocoon of warm clothing) and ushered them back to the Landy, where I now keep a permanent supply of towels and spare clothes.

This week the boys are still away with their father so I can enjoy some beach trips without the worry of hypothermic children. I make several trips to our nearest beach on Chuck. To begin with he was extremely suspicious of the sea. What was this beast which roared and rushed toward him? My niece was riding him and I watched as they pranced their way along the sands, dancing to the rhythm of the waves. Chuck’s hooves left the pattern of a heartbeat along the waterline as he leapt further up the beach with every approaching wave then moved cautiously back down again with the water’s retreat. Now he is happy to visit the beach and only occasionally snorts at a pile of seaweed, an old fishbox or an abandoned boot. We follow the strand line, cantering into the wind and both loving the freedom.

Today the island is enveloped in a low mist so I decide to leave Chuck in his field – he would spook at every fencepost in this weather – and take Swan (our collie pup) to a different stretch of coast. We leave the Landrover where the road peters out and wind our way through a narrow strip of sand dunes. Swan is distracted by myriad rabbit burrows. I reach the edge of the dunes and can just make out a fabulous sweep of pale sand through the mist.

Two ravens fly up from a rabbit carcass at the sight of me. Cackling gulls wheel overhead. Swan and I go down to the water’s edge and she leaps back and forth, allowing the waves to chase her. Walking east we can suddenly make out the dark forms of about 50 seals hauled up on the sand. They stay put until we are within 20 metres then lunge and plunge into the sea.  This beach may be devoid of other humans, but deserted it is not. I feel I am intruding on the privacy of its inhabitants.