This picture, by Artist Marie Cook, really hit home! This is a real place that was abandoned in 1951. The fishing Village is only accessible by boat or helicopter however NO ONE ever goes there. Mired with ghostly tales and rumour's of Peter Eastons gold, it carries an eerie feeling when you step on the shore. It is a long boat ride there and in the open Bay of the north Atlantic which can turn very badly with little notice.
I know because I was often dropped off on that beach as a child because I would get sea sick; while my step dad went fishing in surrounding areas. It was creepy as F&c& as a ten year old city boy. I mean, we buried our dead right in the front garden. Imagine twisted, crooked old eroded headstones with weeds, sage bush and narley trees growing all around the headstones - right out of a Steven King movie! Until you have been seasick you wouldn't understand why I felt that "beach" was the better option even though I was terrified to step onto it.
It was also close to where I found my first piece of Spainish Gold.