Allastra. White sands at the neep tide. Exposed double horseshoe of fine white shell. Flowing into the Lynn of Lorn. 1.06m, 12.24. Rain. Bright blinks. Kaleidoscope of wildlife & raw sound. Pared back, rock bare. A few hours lost & gained. Walked high over cliffs & woodland to reach. Along ragged shoreline, sheep tracks, dense thicket, the return. A wild, ancient landscape. Lost trails. Old ways, imprinted memories, still the beasts know. Each signed by stone, thick gnarled gateways & wood arch, quiet pointing of the way. Today I found it. Taken 10 years to find the secret path through. Stepping through, bent low, to another world. Altogether. The wilder north shore of Lios Mor. My Daily Raw Swim, Cold Running Tide.