Three glorious hours cut off by the tide

Foulney Island, Morecambe Bay This shingle spit provides winter quarters for thousands of eider ducks

The rising tide fetched with it slews of blue sky. As I walked the causeway jumble of rocks, the sea slopped gently below. I was about to be cut off for three glorious hours on Foulney Island.

Saltmarsh metamorphosed into momentary lagoons. Dozens of curlew settled, probed, then lifted at the water's ingress. Due west could be seen Piel Island, its castle all turrets and crumbling towers like an old battleship, halfway to the flattened sliver of Walney Island. Beyond that, windfarms.