Chasing the moon in Charmouth

If it's the third weekend in April (or sometimes fourth when there's five weekends in the month), it must be roboteering in Crewkerne for Son the Elder and a bit of pottering around in Dorset for me. Like last year, I made for Charmouth to rehearse the poem I was due to read during the Lyra Bristol Poetry Festival closing event on Sunday evening in the sea's hearing. Unlike last year, it stayed sunny all day and was pleasantly warm.

Golden Cap in the middle distance

I also dug around in the shingle while I sat on the beach, amassing a pockeful of sea glass and some pebbles. A mindful trip through time and the rolling waves. 

Later in the afternoon, I decided to walk up the cliff path heading east, to see if I could get a closer view of Golden Cap from the top, and set off following the almost full moon that was just rising.

As I huffed my way up the steep path, I noticed a tiny piece of blue and white hoggin, which also made its way into my pocket.

I climbed and climbed past mounds and banks that reminded me of an iron-age hillfort, but isn't ... 

... and a ruined wall in the middle of a field to my left ... 

... and stunning sea views, with blackthorn and stitchwort, on my right ...

... with a steep drop on either side. 

a close-up of stitchwort

a scattering of bluebells

dog-violets

wild strawberries

first red campion of 2024

shining crane's-bill

gorse and the moon again

After about a mile and a half the path levelled out and skirted inland a little, a line of trees blocking most of the view up ahead, with the exception of the Isle of Portland. Sadly, I didn't have time to follow it or the moon any further, and what's more it was getting dusky, so I headed back downhill. 

Looking towards Lyme Regis and the Cobb

Although it doesn't show up in the photo, I could see all the way alond the coastline to Start Point in Southest Devon. 

more blackthorn and stitchwort

looking down on the River Char and a dewpond

Back on the beach, the last of the sun lit Golden Cap and the cliffs beyond. Maybe next time I'll even reach it.

 

A day out at Charmouth

Last year when Son the Elder wanted me to drive him to an event in Crewkerne, I drew up ambitious plans which entailed walking around a couple of hill forts and then driving a few miles south to the coast at Charmouth. The hill fort experience was amazing, but my son decided he'd had enough by late afternoon, so Charmouth had to wait for another day ...

... and that day was Saturday. No rookie errors this time; I headed straight for the sea, rejoicing in the weather forecast which had predicted rain but was clearly wrong.

Looking west towards Lyme Regis

The River Char crossing the beach

For a moment upon arrival I was confused. I was pretty sure I hadn't been to Charmouth before but it felt so familiar. Then I realised I was thinking of Cuckmere Haven in Sussex, where the eponymous river also crosses the beach, though the cliffs there are of chalk, of course, rather than soft silt, mud and clay.  

It was far from crowded, but most people were scouting for fossils near the cliffs so I plonked myself down on the pebbles and looked for sea glass instead, finding handfuls without even having to move.

Looking east with Golden Cap on the horizon

After a time I started to feel a bit dunched, so wandered along the beach ...

... and immediately found the fossil I wasn't looking for (part of a sizeable ammonite-y thing) ...

... as well as the perfect domed paperweight, grey with a white ring. 

I decided to explore the beach to the east of the Char next, and maybe ascend part of the coast path over the cliff to get a better view of Golden Cap, just as soon as I'd had a drink of Ribena back at the car, but the moment I got there, it started to spot with rain. Sitting inside until it went off, the minutes became hours and the hours became the rest of the afternoon and finally it was time to drive back to Crewkerne to pick up Son the Elder, who hadn't wanted to finish early this year, as it turned out. 

Never mind, I had a quantity of sea glass, an unlooked-for fossil and a couple of interesting pebbles to take home with me.  A good day out.

New Moon at Shaldon

I'm in South Devon for the long weekend with the parents.  It feels a bit funny to be staying down here, now the Biscuit Tin by the Sea is consigned to history. I noticed last year that I see everything differently now my bolt hole is gone and I no longer take what's before my eyes for granted, and this phenomenon seems to be continuing.
 

Last night, after I'd driven the car to the car park, I walked back to the cottage where we're staying and noticed that I could see further along the coast than I'd ever managed before - past Golden Cap and all the way to Portland Bill. 

And the incoming tide was certainly one of the fastest I've seen in years. Due in part, I'm sure, to the new moon.  

This is the notorious Shaldon eddy, which forms a couple of hours before high tide. 

A little later, while the parents watched sports stuff on telly, I nipped outside the cottage onto the jetty to watch the tide turn. 

If anything can be sudden yet stately, it's a ship leaving port on the tide. They remind me of snails, with lit cities on their backs. 

Then I spotted the pilot boat on its way out through the estuary. Another ship on the move. This was the height of excitement for seven-year-old me, waiting for the wash to rush up the river beach. Nearly fifty years later, I still feel a thrill. 

For a while the two ships seemed to circle each other, as if they were about to engage in a sword fight or a somewhat predatory tango. 

Then, one after the other they peeled off and headed south, leaving the harbour empty.