The track cuts through the narrow strip where the sea meets the land. The view is enclosed by the dune vegetation. The feeling is confining.
In the low growing grasses hide small, plump, brown-grey sparrows. Their short tails flick from side to side as their stubby bodies hop about searching for seeds and small insects.
At the end of the track the shrubs give way to wide open spaces of pale gold-coloured sands.
I expect the sounds of waves crashing and seagulls but they are missing. Instead all I can hear is the sound of the wind, the cold icy winter wind.