It's been another hot day. We cycle along the coast from Arbroath to East Haven beach as a group of four, grateful for the breeziness. I'm bringing the antenna with me to make the most of this borrowed time NOAA-15 has been having, and with company keen to listen. The sky gets cloudier as we arrive, just as most people are leaving the beach, dragging paddle boards and picnic blankets away. Here we meet another pair, who quickly get caught up in hearing about NOAA-15's imminent pass. The tide is quite far out, but on it's way back in, and we've got time for a quick and quiet swim. I was in the sea closer to the town this morning at high tide, when the sun was stronger, floating ontop of the salty water and squinting with the glints catching on the waves. The water is warmer and darker for this evening's dook, or it's the effect of the air feeling cooler in comparison. We hear curlews, oyster catchers and gulls, and as I emerge from diving under am fooled by my friends joking they saw a dolphin. The sea is pretty clean with flecks of sea lettuce, laver and gutweed floating (I think: I've been trying to get better at identifying seaweeds). East Haven was first recorded as 'Stinchendehavene' in 1214, also known as Stink Haven, I believe on account of the stench of rotting seaweed. These days it's well looked after by a local environmental group. We emerge from the water in various states of cold - one person has Raynaud's syndrome that effects their hands, another is prone to catching the shivers. We layer up and share a few snacks, in Scotland this is called a 'chittery-bite' or a 'shivery-bite': something small and sweet to stop your teeth chattering. Back on the dunes we set up our ground station, seeing what local radio we can pick up before NOAA-15 is due to arrive. We bop to some dance tunes, maybe on Tay FM, find Radio 2 and a few unknown channels: one broadcasting dour Christian sermons, the other a radio play. Pointing the antenna out to sea NOAA-15 comes in, and we pass the antenna between four pairs of keen (and cold) hands. The other two are content with watching and listening, chatting and laughing among the group's glee. A wasp lands on the antenna and stays a while. It's a long pass, the sky wide and open. With it's end our group disperses, most are cycling onward to Dundee. Aaron and I turn back to Arbroath, into a bit of a headwind as a thick haar comes down over the town ahead of us. Rabbits dash out in the fields as they hear us coming, and small birds emerge from the gorse that narrows the path.