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, 31 January 2014

Essex: Peldon to Tollesbury 1/7/2009***


 

We parked at the Peldon Rose inn on the road from Mersea Island and walked the lanes into Peldon and then through Little and Great Wigborough, as there was no access to the embankments on the north side of Salcott Channel.  Although inland, maritime species like sea barley grew beside the road.  A hot day with no shade, even after one mile we felt it necessary to stop for an iced lemonade at the Red Lion in Peldon.  It was a mile after Great Wigborough that a footpath led off the road opposite the former Kings Head pub, now a private house.  This went alongside a field of white lupin, with some weeds of round-leaved fluellen and many-seeded goosefoot.  We continued along the rough field-edge past crops of wheat until we emerged through a farmyard at Salcott, a small settlement on a road ending at the head of Salcott Channel.  The number of birds here was remarkable, with song and flight going on all the time.  We walked the road to the end, where a footpath led directly to the southern embankment of the channel.  Within about a kilometre we stopped for lunch on the inland side of the embankment, where there was a little cooling breeze.  There was common water-crowfoot in a pool here, surrounded by marsh foxtail.  The streams had a lot of little grebe, which were not as shy as usual, as well as mute swans, tufted ducks and coots.  Flocks of lapwings flew back and forth between the pools and the saltmarsh.  Unfortunately, sitting on the grass, we picked up sheep ticks – we spotted two on Val’s trousers, immediately dispatched, but it was not until the evening that we found one embedded in Tony’s chest!  West Mersea became increasingly close across the yacht-filled channels.  Some of the inland pools had nesting avocets that circled around us shrieking indignantly as we passed.  The border of the saltmarsh had bushes of shrubby seablite, clumps of dittander, golden samphire, and the rare rock sea-lavender Limonium binervosum ssp saxonicum.  As we rounded the point we could see Tollesbury on a slight hill across the estuary, but it was still a long way around all the many inlets.  At the edge of the mouth of the Blackwater River we had a view across to the obvious landmark of Bradwell Waterside power station, followed by a little sandy beach with beached shells and lesser pipefish.  We continued the slog along the embankments, occasionally below them when the grass and shrubs became too unkempt.  As we pushed through the flowers or past clumps of bramble in flower, clouds of meadow brown and small heath butterflies flew up, and many dragonflies and damselflies crossed our path.  A striking large fly with pale-patterned black abdomen was feeding on flowers too, a soldier-fly called flecked general Stratiomys singularior.  The easiest embankments were those where flocks of Canada geese habitually rested and cropped the grass, although it was tricky dodging their large droppings.  We saw a large family of Canada geese crossing the mud to the water and a flock of greylag geese across one of the lagoons.  We were already somewhat footsore as we reached the head of the Tollesbury Fleet at Old Hall Farm, where we were able to turn south and then directly south-east to Tollesbury.  On the way we had to walk round a saltmarsh created when an outer embankment had been breached, flooding the former fields, still marked by lines of white dead trees, the ghosts of former hedgerows.  A large number of boats occupied the channels at Tollesbury, where we emerged on the road close to its end, beside the sailing club headquarters.  There were a number of other wooden buildings here, some beyond the last flood defences, so that they had ladders on the outside reaching to the first floor.  Here we phoned a taxi from West Mersea, driven by an affable chap who gave a running commentary on everything we passed on the drive back to Peldon Rose.
Lesser pipefish
Avocet
 
Golden samphire
 
Flecked general

 

 

 

 

 

 

Salcott
 
Limonium binervosum ssp saxonicum
 
Dittander along embankment
 
 
Saltmarsh by Blackwater River
 
 
 
Dead trees in new saltmarsh, Tollesbury
 
 
Tollesbury Harbour, beyond the flood defences

 
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