After yesterday's trip down to Fort Cumberland and seeing the Hayling sandflats, we decided to visit them. Ben was busy as a friend was there for lunch. The JBs (whose Dad does not believe in the sandflats - a sandbar agnostic) had to tidy the house. Erin answered the call to arms and most likely pleased her Mum who had forgotten to have pasta before going out with the PuddleMummies last night and only got up at 2pm, and then only to hide on the sofa. As we left, Jof went back to bed.
Collected Erin and hastened it round to the Hayling Ferry where we had to wait ages for the next scheduled crossing. Bud can make stones bounce across the surface of the sea (massive sea current as Langstone harbour emptied itself for the low tide we wanted) and the final spit of land is practically made of flat rocks so we all had a go at skipping stones.
Eventually the ferry took us across and we hit sand almost immediately. But this wasn't good enough, apparently, and we embarked on a forced routemarch like the hostages of those clever FARC gorillas. 
Erin was wearing crocs as directed but these chafed her feet something chronic so there was quite a lot of being carried, most unfair, just because my feet were OK I had to walk. Got to the great sandy desert which stuck out to sea for over half a mile. We tried to find the furthest point of it but eventually gave up. We know it stops somewhere because we could see ships but we didn't find the end. It's not perfectly flat: there are rivers, canyons, pools, lakes, dunes, drifts, the odd shell, some dead crabs (we didn't get crabs) and the odd little bit of deeper water just when you didn't expect it. I was running towards Erin and found one of these hidden dips: I fell in directly in a most humorous fashion and was soaked. Both of them laughed lots at me but I saw the funny side and was OK about it. We were chased by a myriad of hot'n'cold running dogs, this'd be a great place for ErinsDad to 'lose' Dylandog. Gradually we headed back, cold and windswept. Both of us had tired feet and hers were still damaged so there was a certain amount of carrying done alternately on the forced routemarch back to the ferry to make sure we didn't have to wait for a whole more hour. We got there just in time - we got on, the captain lifted the gangplank and drove away all in one breath.
Erin was wearing crocs as directed but these chafed her feet something chronic so there was quite a lot of being carried, most unfair, just because my feet were OK I had to walk. Got to the great sandy desert which stuck out to sea for over half a mile. We tried to find the furthest point of it but eventually gave up. We know it stops somewhere because we could see ships but we didn't find the end. It's not perfectly flat: there are rivers, canyons, pools, lakes, dunes, drifts, the odd shell, some dead crabs (we didn't get crabs) and the odd little bit of deeper water just when you didn't expect it. I was running towards Erin and found one of these hidden dips: I fell in directly in a most humorous fashion and was soaked. Both of them laughed lots at me but I saw the funny side and was OK about it. We were chased by a myriad of hot'n'cold running dogs, this'd be a great place for ErinsDad to 'lose' Dylandog. Gradually we headed back, cold and windswept. Both of us had tired feet and hers were still damaged so there was a certain amount of carrying done alternately on the forced routemarch back to the ferry to make sure we didn't have to wait for a whole more hour. We got there just in time - we got on, the captain lifted the gangplank and drove away all in one breath.
Direct to shower upon return, made me feel much better. Let's hope Erin feels better as well and her feet are OK. Ditto I guess for ErinsMum.
Bonus video: I'm not kidding. The sand never ends. Look out also for local wildlife
That is indeed a lot of sand. Reminds of Kuwait, although looks a little colder and they wear dresses, not lively nice tops like young Mungo there.
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