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

Norfolk: Cromer to Happisburgh 9/9/2008

 
Cromer Pier
 
Cliffs & groynes south of Cromer
 
Happisburgh beach
We parked at Cadogan Road, Cromer, walked to the front and descended to the beach.  We got as far as Overstrand when frequent groynes, collapsing sea defences and piles of rocks hindered progress.  The cliffs were high and made of wet clay that was continually slumping downwards – impossible to scale without a path, and what paths there used to be were now almost all gone from erosion.  Groynes led to accumulations of shingle to be circumvented, but at least provided a habitat for common limpets whereas the beach was otherwise almost completely shell-free, apart from the occasional mussels.  We passed underneath Sidestrand and Trimingham, the latter so close to the cliff edge that sooner rather than later it will be lost to the sea.  With no way up we were forced to continue along the beach, and we eventually arrived at a concrete “promenade” approaching Mundesley, a relief from continuous sand-walking.  Beach Café provided a chance of lunch in some shelter from the wind and occasional rain.  We kept to the walkway to the end of Mundesley and then we were walking the beach once more, again with groynes.  Although we could hardly see it, we were walking beneath Bacton Gas Terminal, surrounded by huge security because of its vulnerability to terrorist attack and we spotted cameras by a tall tower that rose above the cliff-top.  We later learned from our taxi driver that armed police patrolled the roads on the other side of the terminal and a frigate stood offshore to prevent a seaward approach.  Plans of the terminal had been found in the possession of terrorists whose trial had just been concluded.  Fortunately we were largely unaware of the fact that we were no doubt being closely watched and were able to enjoy the knots of waders (not knots) ahead of us working the edge of the retreating tide – oystercatchers, many ringed plovers, turnstones and sanderlings.  At Bacton the cliffs ended for a while and we were again able to follow a firm path along the top of the sea defences all the way to Walcott.  Until now there had been very few of the saltmarsh flowers we had become so accustomed to over the last few days, and shrubby seablite had certainly finished, but the banks at Bacton had some sea-lavender, grass-leaved orache, lesser sea-spurrey, a good amount of sea wormwood, and even some patches of sea heath.  They also provided some garden escapes to bolster a low species day.  At the end of Walcott we had to resort to the beach once more under a line of much lower cliffs that might have been scalable had the need arisen.  Just before Happisburgh we passed an archaeological dig at the base of the cliff, where a large hole had been excavated for half-a-million year old implements and bones.  Past here we soon descended to the B1159 road and could phone for a taxi from Mundesley back to Cromer.  The driver bemoaned the government decision not to maintain the sea defences along this stretch of coast and while such work might be unreasonably costly (and ultimately doomed to failure anyway) it was true that the loss fell unfairly on the small number of people who thereby lost all their capital tied up in properties that would fall into the sea within a few years, some houses now selling for just a few thousand pounds. “Happy-sburgh" it is not.
 
 
 
 
 
Limpet
 
 
 
 
 
Sea wormwood
 
 



 

Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)