My family and I were on a trip to Scotland, and one bright but chilly morning we went to Dalbeattie Forest. Squirrels were scurrying across branches and chattering excitedly overhead as we meandered through the forest. I also saw the River Urr, a popular salmon fishing river. It flowed rapidly beneath me as I strolled across the senescent bridge on which many feet had walked. As I walked through the woods, I could feel the crunch of twigs under my feet and smell the damp wood after the rainfall.
The next day we walked from Rockcliffe to Kippford. It was a long, wet walk but it had delightful views to make up for it. When we reached the village of Kippford, I caught a glimpse of the breathtaking sight of the beach. With caution, I climbed down the jagged rocks that outlined the beach, like a painting with a sharp border. I bolted as fast as I could to where the sea was, my boots crunching in the gritty, golden sand. The waves, deep cobalt blue and rimmed with white, turned over caramel-coloured sand grains with each surge.
The view was simply spectacular. The sea looked like it was being shaken with shards of sparkles wherever the sun shone. I raced along the ocean coast, spotting piles of moss-green seaweed and strangely shaped rockpools everywhere.
Athira, 10
