Merrily to Berrow

The forecast was for rain later in the morning, and we hadn't got up as early as we'd intended, and the traffic would probably be trying as it was Easter Monday but we went to Berrow anyhow in search of big skies and sand and light.

Looking back at St Mary's with Crook Peak in the distance

over the golf course

'It's busy there today,' said a fellow dog-walker we encountered as we meandered along the sandy lane to the beach. When he was out of earshot, I reminded a concerned Northerner, who'd clearly forgotten there are no cafes, ice cream vans or toilets for miles around, that we usually had the seven mile beach entirely to ourselves, so busy could be as many - or few - as twenty people. 

St Mary's and Brent Knoll

And so it proved. Four horses, a considerable number of dogs, and maybe two dozen people scattered from the gap in the dunes where the footpath ends to the cars parked at the southern end of Brean.  No wreck of the SS Nornen, though, as it was high tide.

Generally, Cwtch isn't interested in fetching balls or sticks, at least not for long and definitely not when we're somewhere with a lot of distractions, like a field with smells and tussocks and anthills and wooded paths and so on, but when there's just sandflats, she's up for a bit of chasing and fetching ... 

... if not surrendering the ball once she's brought it back.

She's still not keen on the sea, though ... 

... and showed no promise when it came to weaving through the wooden piles comprising the breakwater, like those collies who are amazing at Agility do at speed. 

As we turned back, we noticed the rain was drifting off the Quantocks towards us, an hour later than forecast but still heavy-looking and almost certainly wet, so we headed for the footpath at the gap in the dunes - or at least where we thought it was, because it turns out the wreck is the point I take my bearings from and with the tide high and its yellow buoys removed, who knows where along the beach it - and by extension we - were, exactly. We did find it without too much trouble in the end, though it seemed further down the beach towards Burnham than usual.
 

Then the winding walk back under the brush, through the slacks and over the golf course to the Church and the car.

It was a longer-than-usual drive home through heavy rain and traffic (due in part to a (not serious) accident on the M5), my pockets stuffed with translucent shells and a piece of driftwood like a breaching whale and my eyes full of the not-quite-sealight of the Somerset coast. 

 

A break in the weather

The forecast for Boxing Day at Burnham-on-Sea was cloudy and sunny weather in the morning, turning to rain in the afternoon, so I decided we'd best get out promptly if Cwtch was going to have a midwinter run on the beach.

Three-quarters of the way down the M5 it started to tip down, the sort of rain you need your windscreen wipers on full speed for. We pressed on, and by the time we parked in on a side-street off Berrow Road, it had (mostly) gone off, for which we were grateful.

Although it doesn't look it from the photos, the beach, especially near the front, was pretty crowded with people and dogs, but we fancied stopping (possibly) (I mean, let's err on the side of optimism) on the sea front for a coffee (perhaps) if there was a cafe open.  

Cwtch had a run, and a good play-with-a-stick, but after a while, she started to show signs of being a bit overwhelmed - I don't think the hockey players on the beach clashing their sticks were helping - so we abandoned the coffee plan and retraced our steps to Burnham low lighthouse. I blame lockdown in part for this - I think a lot of people (re)discovered the joy of getting out for a walk when all the malls and bowling alleys and cinemas were closed, and they aren't about to stop. 

We walked some way beyond the lighthouse towards Berrow and climbed onto the dunes, but we were still too far away for the wreck of the Nornen to be visible. 

Looking south it was still sunny ... 

... but as we looked northwards, we could see the weather was closing back in.

Back by the low lighthouse it started to rain. A horse and pony passed by and we turned down the lane that led back to where we'd parked the car, with the 100 foot tall high lighthouse ahead of us, securing our seat belts just as it became torrential. A lucky break in the weather, then.

Bimbling in Burnham-on-Sea

It was cooler than the previous couple of days, which saw temperature records obliterated (including here in Bristol), and Son the Younger was in town, and it was the first day of the summer holiday for me, so after my MA tutorial, we went to the beach.

 

Burnham-on-Sea was rammed with holiday makers ...

... so after inspecting the Low Lighthouse (built in 1832 and - apart from a hiatus between 1969 and 1993 - still in service), we headed away from the heaving metropolis, towards Berrow. 

Colour-cordination

For once the tide was quite high, which meant Cwtch got to see what we optimistically call the sea, and even paddle a little, when her desire to play with a frolicking golden labrador briefly overcame her fear of water.

Alas, poor herring gull ... 

Someone had written something rude in the sand

Once at Berrow, the tide was way too high to see the Wreck of the Nornen, but there will be other visits.

Sea rocket and beach rose (Rosa rugosa)

The seaward side of the lighthouse is striped red

Back home, there was time for a cup of tea and something to eat before an evening's poetry at El Rincón in Bedminster. An all-round lovely start to the summer break.