Introduction


When we started walking the coast of England we had no intention that this would become a major lifetime project. Having to make a last-minute arrangement for our summer holiday in 1987, we said "Let's go to the nearest piece of coast and see how far we can walk along it." It turned out well and we started adding further stretches of coast, initially once every two years, but soon annually, or even twice a year.

We had always enjoyed the coast - there is something refreshingly "edgy" about having the sea always at our side, and one of us was into marine molluscs. We also enjoyed long-distance walking and had long been involved in general natural history recording. This project enabled us to combine all three interests.

You soon discover when embarking on a project like this that you need a few rules, which evolve from the first experiences. Our main rule was that we should walk as close to the coast as possible, which meant beach-walking whenever we could (unlike the official coast paths that largely remain above shore, recognising that at high tides the beach may be inaccessible). The route should also be capable of being a continuous walk, so that when we came to an unfordable river we walked inland along its banks to the first place at which we could cross, whether a bridge or a ferry.

We only carried light packs, so that at the end of each day's walk we had the problem of getting back to our car where we started. Initially we walked back, but soon realised we would be walking the coast twice this way! We used public transport whenever this was available - buses or trains, sometimes adjusting our start and finish points to make this easier. Failing this - and it was often not possible - we would phone for a taxi (an increasingly costly option over the years). Having our car with us gave us more freedom as to where we could stay at night - and after a day walking and only light food we were usually ready for being spoiled by a good meal and a comfortable bed! Even so, we stayed on the coast itself whenever there was a decent option.

Each walk was made for enjoyment, it was not a route-march to see how quickly we could get it finished. We therefore took it gently at times when passing through pleasant scenery or where there were many plants or creatures to record.

In terms of biological recording, we systematically noted every bird, butterfly, creature or sea-shell that we came across, sometimes spending time searching for the shells. We could not record every plant in the same way - there are too many common ones - so we were more selective, noting all coastal plants and any others that were not run-of-the-mill.

In our daily posts, edited from our original diaries, we include a star-rating from no star to **** according to our subjective estimate as to how special that day was from the point of view of natural history. This score (and our daily records) will, however, have been affected by the weather - it is difficult to appreciate the environment fully, for instance, in torrential rain, and there are many more butterflies and other insects to be seen in warm sunshine!

A summary of all our natural history records on the walk can be found using this link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1LLGD55lKRHYXd1SGU1QndrcUU/edit?usp=sharing





Friday 13 December 2013

South Devon 6/8/1994 Dawlish Warren to Shaldon




Turritella communis
 

 
At Lympstone this morning people were decorating the village for their “Fête and Furry Dance”.  From the Warren we set off along the shelly beach of Dawlish Warren and a long barer stretch by Dawlish, the two separated by an outcrop of red cliffs and sea-stacks that we could negotiate with care at low tide over the algae-covered rocks.  From here the intercity railway runs along the coast to Teignmouth, at the head of the beach, occasionally tunnelling through intervening cliffs.  This hinders access to the beach and is a constant source of noise and pollution.  Central Dawlish had fast-food outlets and “amusement” arcades, but also a river descending through parkland over a series of low weirs, with black swans.
     At the south end of Dawlish Bay there is a short rise to Colyton Bay, again busy with holidaying families at the northern end.  The emptiness of the southern end was explained when we arrived by the sewage smell.  The coast path then goes inland and there is no access to the coast because of housing.  We could next descend to the beach at Holcombe, down cliffs with silver ragwort, rock samphire, rock sea-lavender, sea campion and thrift, and via a smelly slippery way beneath a railway arch.  We faced the tall red sea-stack known as Shag Rock – but the birds belied the name: they were all cormorants.  Holcombe Beach is a long narrow strip of sand totally covered at high tide.  The embankment at the top, right beside the railway, provides a walkway above the waves until we passed Sprey Point, where we were confronted by TEIGNMOUTH shouting in large letters on a cliff-top hoarding.
      In the centre of a mile-long sandy beach we were surprised to see a wheatear strutting along the sea-wall unconcerned by the surrounding bustle.  The far headland extends into the Teign estuary.  On the inner side were moored long lines of boats beneath combined boat-houses and beach-huts, where families sat and played.  Here were masses of tower shells Turritella communis.  The ferry across the river docked as we arrived, and this carried us into Shaldon where their annual water-festival was in full swing – Punch and Judy and all.  We walked on to Ness Cove.  The exit from here was an incredible passageway of stone steps and brick walls through the cliff, leading to the top where there were shops and a small zoo.

 

Black swan
 

Shaldon Water Carnival

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