I didn’t notice he was watching me to begin with. Hazelnut iced latte in one hand and a cinnamon bun in the other, I was happily kicking my feet from the rock I perched on, thinking about nothing at all. Something tickled the back of my neck. A feeling. One of suspense, of anxiety, of eyes resting on you. My heart dropped – I was alone, a young woman, sitting on the edge of a very big rock. If someone were to push me now, there was nothing to stop my neck from breaking upon impact with the rocks below. White foam frothed beneath the soles of my walking boots, an angry stew waiting for the key ingredient: me.
No, no. The sea is not my enemy.
My enemy is men.
Slowly, cautiously, I turned, coffee braced in self-defence. If he has a hazelnut allergy, he’s done for, I thought to myself. Strength isn’t a weapon in my artillery, but coffee? Bring it on.
There were eyes on me. I was right. Well…almost. The eyes were large and dark, filled with a soulful longing, the expanse of the universe contained behind them. A large huff, and the eyes vanished as his almighty head flopped back onto the seaweed-laden rock he had chosen to enjoy during low tide. A grey seal – a large male, sure, but what a friendly man to come across!
The sight of him, so close yet so companionable, ignited a childlike joy in me. I squealed (literally) in excitement and bounced to my feet to take photos. He continued to watch me, an anxiety coming across his face as I got closer to the group. Okay, friends from a distance then. I can deal with that.
Retreating to my perch, my view limited to only the original large male, I smiled to myself. Wildlife, right there. The sea under my feet, calmer now that it wasn’t about to consume me. Sunshine was warming my arms against the slightly relentless sea breeze. Combined with an (amazing, may I add – thank you to Greyhope Bay cafe!) iced coffee and a cinnamon bun the size of my face, I was in for an incredibly pleasant afternoon.
It’s rare to come across a coffee companion with whom you can sit in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and exchanging nothing more than friendly looks. I can safely recommend Aberdeen’s grey seal population as the perfect date. I hadn’t expected to come across seals here – Torry Battery is known for dolphin spotting. Greyhope Bay Centre, the providers of my fabulous snacking, was set up by marine scientist Fiona McIntyre in 2012 (the cafe was opened to the public in 2022) to connect the community with nature. The cafe overlooks where the River Dee meets the North Sea, a favourite meeting spot for local dolphin communities. Listening to cafe goers whooping with joy as dolphins whip and flip through the air is as enjoyable as the wildlife itself.
But this isn’t about having coffee with dolphins. No, no – this is coffee with a seal. Very different.
Back on the rocks, I was thrilled by past me, who had thoughtfully packed my trusty black notebook. Turning to a fresh page, I started to observe my seal friend. Armed with only a fineliner, I focused on his lines and texture. There was nothing sharp about him – it was as if he was made of marshmallows and candyfloss. Slick, thin fur coated his huge build as he ungracefully huffed about the exposed rock. A second seal in the water moved as though part of the sea itself, revealing a stark contrast of grace. The true cost of being warmed by the sun? Becoming nothing more than a chubby boy.
Sounds mighty familiar to me.
It’s all just a matter of our natural environment. Watching this creature of grace and speed, a killing machine underwater, flop about in such a cute, ungraceful state, made me realise how massively incorrect environments can affect us. Put me on a rock with a coffee by the sea, and you’ve never seen a happier girl. Mental illness? Never heard of it. Now, put me back in the university library and force me to read academic jargon? I’m a wreck, I’m a mess, please don’t watch me cry. It’s not ‘like a fish out of water’ – that’s extreme. I now much prefer ‘like a seal out of water’ – not dying, just not quite in the prime environment for peak performance.
If only life were so easy that I could sit on the rocks with the seals forever. Debt-free, no rent due. I mean, I guess I could, but I’m sure I’d die of exposure pretty quickly. Hey ho. Life moves on, and tomorrow I’ll see if there’s someone new to have my coffee with.
I highly doubt that any coffee date could possibly beat this one, though.
Alfresco Diaries is Braw Magazine’s new monthly column, written by Alice Pollard, exploring personal connections to nature in an attempt to narrate frequent side-quests in Stirlingshire and beyond. Travel, soft adventure, and nature writing combine to reveal the story that comes from every trip beyond our front doors. You can read more here.
Featured Image by Alice Pollard
Journalism student at the University of Stirling & BRAW Magazine editor 24/25 and 25/26 🙂
You can see my portfolio here: https://www.clippings.me/alicepollard
