northam burrows

No cliffs here. And it's only occasionally really deserted, given the proximity of several overlapping communities nearby, and road access. A lot of sand and a deep foreshore, prone to winds and sky. As the tide retreats extensive pebble beds are exposed stretching across to the South Gut but there is no bedrock to be seen alongside the channel down which the Taw and Torridge rivers finally reach the sea.

Then, one day while walking out to get exercise and enjoy the big skies, we were caught by a violent storm far out on the beach, saw colour sapped out to gun-metal grey, rearranged. The soaking was worth it, the post-storm brilliance quite singular. At my feet I found the theme of this place for me, which is how these pebbles lie in the sand. Almost every time I go there (in winter, when the north light really works) I find another aspect of these beds, another expression of the land sea sky interface. I can make or miss an image here in seconds.

It is often time itself that is the hardest dimension to handle because things can happen in an instant. I saw this stone receive its crown of foam from a retreating breaker. Within seconds the crown had disappeared for ever. Unremarkable maybe, and repeated again and again up and down the pebble bank, but never again at that precise moment, lit that way, with me hanging over it to record it. I took another, similar, I took lots, but never quite saw this again. I missed better ones, just as I miss them every day it is happening and I am not there.

Another visit, when a walk on to the South Gut sands was to blow away after affects of new year celebration, clear cold sunlight on sand infrequently exposed by the tides revealed a number of wonderful pool-studded ridges and banks of wind and water-tempered sand.

There are long views, large sandstone pebble fields and even some wild fowl in winter on this strand. Big skies, long fetches . . . and rather a lot of dog walkers (but it is a big place) . . . and if one looks down as well as around, there is always something to like.
There's an album of my last visit here: Flickr joy of shape by northam 

somerset levels

The Somerset Levels have a close association with the sea through the rivers which discharge from these low-lying pastures, marshes and fens. The water world of the Levels this winter is not as extensive as it was two winters ago. We are able to get to places and do not need to go the long way round.

The Parrett river is just overtopping its levée this afternoon and pouring into the adjoining meadows; the bridge we walk over to cross the river is scraping the top of the water heading seaward.  The short winter day wears on so we take minor roads from Muchelney across to Grey Lake Bridge and visit the bird reserve nearby. It is satisfying to find it deserted although very recent reed and coppice cutting is in evidence.

Our walk along the King's Sedgemoor Drain to the far-most hide is heavy going and surprisingly quiet as far as wildfowl are concerned.We return and branch off to the main hide, negotiating a pair of mutes and their seven adolescent cygnets who have settled on the edge of the reed cutting that has been in progress hereabouts. As we reach the hide, the sun gets out from under the cloud edge and the whole area is gold-lit. This is where they all are.

From within the hide we watch the reserve regulars present in numbers. They are flighty, performing flocking manoeuvres, fly-pasts and evasions specifically it seems for our delight. All the usual suspects are represented but widgeon and lapwings are in particular abundance. The whole scene is briefly re-orchestrated by a marsh harrier after which there is a general settling down as the light levels dip and dusk arrives. Late starlings pass by to get to their roosts on the other side of the ridge.

I've made a short album of the few pictures I made: flickr january somerset
There's another album from january 2014 here: flickr wet levels