Sunday, 10th October 2021
I had a spare afternoon. The sun was shining(ish, mostly). I felt “coast-y”.
Where haven’t I been for a while? I pondered as I got some snacks and a flask
together. Can’t be too long a drive, the
nights are drawing in now. I mused. I
don’t really fancy Withernsea, Hornsea, and the tide’s wrong for Spurn
Point. Brid will be rammed. Scarborough’s too far to be setting off now. Danes Dyke? Hmmm, not enough coast.
The cat just gave me a disdainful look as I filled “that bag”
then she walked off in a mood. She
knows, you know.
I plumped for Flamborough – an hour’s drive away.
I got parked up at the Lighthouse Road car park. £2.90 for all day. I don’t think that’s bad at all. Apparently neither did the 6 million other
people there as well. It was busy!
I’d still not really decided where I was walking – apart from
it needing to include a big chunk of cliff top walking.
I headed inland, back up the road I’d just driven down, passing
the old chalk tower:
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| Chalk Tower |
It was built in 1674 as a lighthouse. Given the way the coast erodes so rapidly on this side of the country, I pondered how far inland it was back then.
I take a left turn to cross a couple of fields. Hmm, so far, it wasn’t looking very “coast-y”
Buuuut, I get to the end of the second field and,
ta-daaahhhhh:
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| The coast, at last! |
Eeeeeh. Stand. Stare. Aaaand breeeeathe.
Another left turn and I followed the cliff top:
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| Cliff Top Path |
A lovely undulating path that is sometimes quite scarily near the edge.
At last! Some chalk:
To give some perspective, some people kindly sat on the top of the cliff.
It’s this area where the clay starts turning to chalk – the
other end of the band of chalk is in Dover.
Inland, the newer lighthouse dominates the view:
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| Lighthouse |
Just before you reach the fog signal station you get to High Stacks. It was here a chap was pointing his camera at a bush. I paused, not wanting to scare whatever it was he was photographing. On closer inspection, there was a beautiful red-breasted bird with a black head sat on the top of the bush. I tried to get a pic too, but it came out as a blurry splodge. After it flew off I asked the chap what it was. A male Stonechat. He seemed really pleased to have seen it and even more pleased that he’d got a good pic of it. He did have a “slightly better” camera than mine though!
We walked together a short distance. He pointed out the seals. I stared and could see nothing but then my
eyes “tuned in” to these grey lumps of rock which I thought was the sun catching
the wet rock. I was a little bit excited
when I finally “saw” them. Loads of
them. I did take a pic:
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| Can you spot the seals? |
Yeah. Honestly, there are seals in this pic. Most of them are on the rocks just getting covered by the sea.
And then I heard them singing
They moo. It’s really
cute.
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| High Stacks |
The seals are just to the right of this impressive soon to be island.
Had the chap not still been walking with me I’d have gone down the cliff side for a poke around there, and maybe had a go at getting to the top of it.
A few more pics of the fabulous coastline:
We parted company at the fog signal station:
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| Fog Signal Station |
It was nice walking with him. Very knowledgeable chap and I felt like I’d had my own private guided tour of the coastline. Lucky sod only lives a few miles away from this wonderful patch of coast and had walked from home.
I neared the newer lighthouse:
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| Lighthouse |
.. and decided to stop for an ice cream. A boring, but delicious Mr Whippy. The first ice cream I’ve had since the summer of 2019. I’d forgotten how good something that simple tasted.
I had a nosey at the toposcope as I schlurpped my way round
my ice cream:
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| Toposcope |
I was technically back at my car. But my legs weren't done with walking yet. So I decided to carry on:
I mean… why wouldn’t you?
Looking back to the fog signal station:
That is some seriously impressive coastline. Right there. But no. I’m greedy. I want more.
Looking back, from a little further along:
Does gorse never stop flowering?
I get to Selwicks Bay and another lump of fantasticness:
I carry on. The cliffs getting higher and the beach now inaccessible:
There are a lot of birds on these cliffs – mainly crows and pigeons. Further up the coast is Bempton, famous for its Puffins. I’ll mooch up there in Puffin season, but not today.
I head further along still.
The crowds long gone. And find
myself a nice little perch for my cuppa and snack.
Looking towards Breil Nook:
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| Breil Nook |
Not sure if you can see but there’s a person stood on the end. Doing what a lot of folks do here. Just standing and staring.
Looking the other way to Breil Head and a precariously
placed fisherman. His pal up on the top
heckling him.
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| Breil Head |
It was lovely sat in the patchy evening sunshine with my cuppa and snack. Just sitting there. Staring out to sea and along the coastline and at the fluffy candyfloss clouds in the sky. Listening to the waves against the rock, the two fishermen heckling one another, a small aeroplane high above somewhere. Feeling the warm breeze on my face. Lovely. Simply lovely
I retraced my steps to the car but did take a little detour
down one of the cliff paths to a seal viewing point. No seals – the tide was almost in here. My route down to the viewing point was more
gentle than my route back up:
I was greeted with a wonderful sunset as I reached the top of the steps. So I sat on one of the many benches and stared out to sea a bit more, until the flashlight from the lighthouse invaded my peripheral vision. I really didn’t want to go home.
I really must get to this bit of coastline more often. It is stunning.
Thanks for reading.