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





Thursday, 23 January 2014

Sussex: Brighton to Newhaven 10/7/2001**

 
 
Brighton beach sculptures
 
Brighton front
From Brighton centre we went past the already busy East Pier where music was playing and we followed the old electric railway (1892) that still operates at the head of the shingle beach.  The main road was on our left, with a large Victorian wall and arcaded walkways at three levels that had been used to cover (and presumably stabilise) the chalk cliffs.  The stony railway-side was the only place here where shingle vegetation like sea kale and yellow horned-poppy survived.  Some of the bunkers at the top of beach designed to store fishermen’s tackle were being used by vagrants as dossing-places, making it a kind of shanty town.  Crossing to the arcades we found the damp and shade had made the wall habitable for ferns like spleenwort and hart’s-tongue, as well as cliff plants like wallflower.  This part of town was rather decrepit, having sold out its Victorian heritage of gentility for commercial exploitation.  At the end of town was a modern marina and shopping centre, the bare chalk cliffs were at last revealed, rising 60 to over 100 feet, lines of black flints conspicuous.  A concrete walkway ran along the bottom of the cliffs, but was currently closed because of storm damage.  We therefore had to climb to the top of the cliffs and walk along the narrow grass way between them and the main road.  Above rose the imposing building of Roedean School.  At the end of the marina there was access to the bottom of the cliffs again, and it became obvious that the way had been closed solely to facilitate building development, with “safety” being an easy excuse to close the footpath.  We walked down a ramp to the walkway.  Below was shingle and sand with a lower shore of chalk rocks covered in seaweed.  On the cliffs grew plants like kidney vetch, sea stock and Rottingdean sea lavender.  There was also some sea heath just before Rottingdean, where there was a dip in the cliffs and a short walk up to the shops, where we found a good bakery to buy warm sausage rolls and Danish pastries for lunch.  These we ate on a bench on the cliff promenade, eyed jealously by jackdaws and stray dogs.  We then continued to Saltdean where the long walkway ended and high tide was throwing spray over the walls. Fulmars were gliding near their nests high up the cliffs.  We climbed up to the cliff-top grassland.  Most of this was “improved”, but there were still some patches of the original chalk flora including thyme, dropwort, squinancy wort and dwarf thistle.  There was also both common and dumpy centaury.  The wind gusted strongly behind us sufficiently to push us uphill, so that we could just let our legs run and almost fly up with our clothes billowing – great childish fun.  We continued on cliff-top grassland for several miles, only once having to divert around a sewage works.  At Peacehaven we crossed the Greenwich Meridian at a Memorial, the line of the meridian marked on the ground as it is at Greenwich.  Newhaven was extending its housing further west and towards the cliffs, restricting the path, which was also being eroded seawards by landslips.  From the hilltop we could see the Seacat ferry leaving for Dieppe, passing a breakwater with a lighthouse at its tip.  There were a few stems of pyramidal orchid here, and a painted lady attempted to fly.  We had to negotiate obscure paths through scrub surrounding Newhaven Fort, which had been recently restored and opened to the public.  Eventually we found a way down to the road that runs along the west bank of the Ouse.  We followed this north past marinas, housing and more building sites, to the main road to take us over the turntable bridge to the railway station, where we caught the train back to Brighton.  On a timber structure in the river someone had cleverly created a cormorant out of scrap metal.  At night we drove into Brighton for an exciting vegetarian meal at Terre à Terre in The Lanes.
 
Arcade, Brighton
 
Chalk cliffs east of Brighton
 
Saltdean high tide
 
Painted lady
Peacehaven: Greenwich Meridian monument
 
Newhaven cormorant statue
 
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