Hope Cove
by Ian Curtress
I enjoy my
coastal path walks and the weather has to be
really rough to stop me.
Old habits die hard, although retired, still rise
around seven.
Seldom meet anybody walking, too early for most.
I always stop above one particular cove. There’s
a seat well placed for a lovely view of the
Atlantic rollers breaking on the golden sand and
although they can crash violently when weather is
stormy, somehow it remains a peaceful scene.
I never cease to appreciate my good fortune at
having completed my years of labour with
satisfaction I now have time for me.
They say the best things in life are free.
Sitting here with this remarkable view and
gorgeous fresh air, I agree.
On this particular morning when comfortably
seated ready to feast my eyes, I was startled to
see a small figure seated on a rock down in the
cove.
I took it to be a woman as she was wrapped in a
heavy shawl.
Looked so lonely huddled up, black against the
golden sand.
Somehow I couldn’t quite settle so continued
my walk and as usual my mind became full of
memories of a very full life.
Walking back later I glanced down into the cove
and was very surprised to see the figure still
there.
This concerned me as from her position I could
see she was elderly and I felt uncomfortable. I
could not continue without making sure she was
alright.
I made my way down the rough path and cautiously
approached her.
She looked tired, her face lined as if by sadness
but she smiled.
Assured me she was alright and would be leaving
soon and thanked me for my concern.
However, I couldn’t get her out of my mind.
Thought of the possibility of a fall and no one
to find her until too late.
So instead of going straight home I called into
the local police station.
I told them of my concern of an elderly woman in
an isolated cove and that although she assured me
she was alright I thought perhaps it should be
followed up.
I became aware of the desk sergeant and others
giving me strange looks.
He asked me to describe exactly what I saw and
the conversation.
I immediately became embarrassed, wishing I hadn’t
bothered but related the incident in detail. It
was his turn to become embarrassed.
He said about five years ago a walker reported
exactly what I had reported. They looked into it
and found the woman had lost her husband at sea,
in foreign waters but was sure he would return.
Social workers said they would keep an eye on her.
Following the report of the walker they decided
to check on her the following morning.
She was not at home so they sent a policeman to
the cove.
She was sitting on the rock looking out to sea.
The constable climbed down and gently approached
her. She was very still. Too still. In spite of
her heavy shawl she had passed away in the cold
night air.
It had been a very sad time for all those
involved but perhaps it was the happiest for her.
I sit and look down on that cove now with mixed
feelings but don’t dwell on things we don’t
understand.
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