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





Tuesday, 28 January 2014

Cumbria: St Bee's to Whitehaven 18/6/2005*


 

Common blue
 
Closed mine, Whitehaven
 
St Bees Head cliffs
 
Wood vetch
We went straight up the cliffs from the seafront at St Bee’s on to the headland.  The sandstone headland is 100m high with an acid-soil flora of tormentil, heath bedstraw, bracken and sheepsbit.  A sunnier day brought out common blues.  The cliffs are famous for their seabird nesting colonies and we saw guillemot, puffin, razorbill, fulmar and kittiwake.  The stench was strong and the guillemots in particular were crowded in huge numbers on the narrow ledges.  A solitary gannet was seen flying out to sea.  Herring gulls were also tending their fluffy chicks.  On the sea were rafts of hundreds of auks, mainly guillemot.  Taking time to absorb the scene we had our lunch here on a seat at the very cliff edge overlooking both sea and cliffs, with gulls, fulmars and cormorants continually gliding past.  To the north, for the first time, we could see the misty coast of Scotland across the Solway.  As is often so, the cliffs carried many woodland plants like great woodrush, primrose, bluebell and honeysuckle.  We skirted an active sandstone quarry and started seeing signs of coal mining.  A small shaft entrance some way down the cliff slope was followed by reclaimed mine spoil, where the previous red clay in the bare paths was replaced by black soil.  Here were northern marsh orchids and plentiful wood vetch.  An old mine had been changed to a chemical works and the sea below was foamy-white with chemical discharges from the bottom of the cliff.  The cliffs started to be lower as we followed them through grasslands past various disused old mines, including one converted into Haig Mining Museum.  We were now in Whitehaven, but the houses were removed from the cliff by the space of a field or two which had been occupied by mines, and it was a surprise to drop straight down to the harbour and the centre of town.  Many of the buildings, such as the coastguard station, were converted from old mining structures, that industry having come to an end in the 1960s.  Various monuments commemorate the deaths of miners and shipping, the other economic mainstay.  Whitehaven was the departure point for Captain Cook, but the only survival of this trade seemed to be the modern marina now occupying much of the harbour.  The history was commemorated in a museum near the harbour that had opened only eight years before, and here we took coffee and a little rest, as well as using the best loos on the coast path.  Even more recent was a statue that had only been unveiled the previous day of a pillar of coal, a miner, a supervisor, another operative and a “screen girl”.  The unveiling had been performed by a former screen girl.  The harbour itself is gaunt and unadorned, affording plenty of space for modern sculptures and festivals.  On the unused (and inaccessible) platform 3 at the railway station a herring gull was raising a single chick.  The train took us direct to St Bee’s via a very long 1.3km tunnel cutting through Bransty Hill. 
 
 
 
Guillemot
 
 
 
New statue of miners (screen lass on right)
 
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