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 10 January 2014

Devon: Plymouth 13/8/1996***


 

Juvenile herring gull
 
Watling Street thistle
 
Beadlet anemones
After the last few days of remote walking, Plymouth’s traffic and crowds were something of a culture shock.  We found our B&B for the next two nights, The Old Pier in Radford Road near the front at the west end of town, named after the now-fallen pier that once jutted into Plymouth Harbour.  We walked eastwards towards Turnchapel along the front with its concrete walkways, steps, swimming pools and even, in one place, a concrete beach!  People were fishing, paddling, sunbathing or just sitting around.  Whilst easy to pass through, the overall effect is ugly and such grass areas as remain are kept trimmed as if to deny any intrusion by nature.  Walls and natural cliffs were draped with rock samphire, silver ragwort, red valerian and ivy-leaved toadflax.  Above the front is a famous hilly area, The Hoe, well mown but with an interesting relict flora of clary, rough clover and knotted bur-parsley.
      Beyond the Hoe we passed the Citadel and the harbour for the water taxi from Turnchapel.  Historically Plymouth has been well fortified given its strategic naval significance.  Next we passed the Mayflower Steps where that ship was launched in 1609, along with many other sites with commemorative plaques for historic voyages such as against the Spanish Armada and to the New World.  This was the haunt par excellence of the herring gull, with its voracious appetite for just about anything.  Behind the Harbour is the Barbican, an area of old houses, tourist shops and interesting little streets.  We lunched here on ice-creams from one café and melon baskets from another. 
      We walked back westwards through a barren area of streamlined roads, impersonal shopping centres, offices and other commercial premises that lies behind the seafront development, eventually reaching the bank of the Tamar and the major international docks.  Access to the sea is very restricted here and we wound our way through garages, derelict buildings and other wastelands to the far point where we suddenly came across sunbathers on the rocks and concrete reinforcements of the estuary.  At the point itself, on top of a low limestone cliff, we discovered the rare Watling Street thistle, a relative of sea holly, as well as garden parsley, wild leek, the coast variety of rest-harrow ssp maritima and the variety compositarum of common broomrape.  Pools of the lower shore had beadlet anemones and sponges.
      We dined that night at Chez Nous, a restaurant long-established in one of the soulless shopping parades, the only location we could find for good cuisine in the city.
 
Plaque celebrating 400th anniversary of the 1588 Armada
 
 
Waste ground with buddleia
 
 
Plymouth Hoe
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