Of the many times I have walked out to the island of Lindisfarne the walks done by the light of the moon are particularly memorable.
If one can time it, and I don’t know how often it does happen, the recession of the tide, the moon’s rise, the phase of the full moon coincide. If the weather permits, at that time something truly magical is possible, a walk, by soft moon light to the island of Lindisfarne upon a thin, glassy film of sea water. It exhilarates the senses. Once one has grown accustomed to it the pale light, it is apparent that the moon’s glow is reflected and enhanced by the water running on top of the sands giving one enough light to safely navigate. The moon rises over the dunes at the north of the island allowing one to make out its hazy form, artificial lamps dash splinters of coloured light onto the watery distance to give one a bearing on the village a over a mile away. Then the experience becomes even more extraordinary as one steps out from the security of the road and walks on a film of water out towards the direction of the receding tide; a walk on water, always ahead is the distant slap and rush of the sea. Out of the gloom the posts start to appear, one by one, giving the confidence to continue forward, then dropping back into the darkness behind one, retracting the possibility of returning.