Splash and dash – aquaplaning Brighton’s undercliff

Wave watching is a traditional Brighton pastime – we’ve had no shortage of splashing  spectaculars during this wet, wild winter. A very high tide arrived around lunchtime today, as columns of families and dogs ignoring or oblivious to advisories set forth for the Sunday seaside stroll.

On calmer days Brighton’s undercliff presents a safe, sedate seawall route, a gentle promenade or pedal to savour stunning views. At low water shingle gives way to the chalky floor of the shore – a maze of weedy pools to be explored. But when the wind whips up the water it’s a wild and potentially hazardous way. Waves batter concrete blocks designed to keep high seas at bay, swamping wall and  walkers with foam and spray.  The  council might urge caution but the draw of a besieged shore is irresistible exhilaration for free thrill seekers.

While seasoned tide twitchers set out suspecting soaking is in store, the less sea savvy meet soggy, salty surprise. Skies are  bright but the channel is churning brown from last nights’ screaming squalls. On the uncleared concrete walkways we wade through tossed up seaweed and  dumped marine detritus. Spumes of spray splash skyward, clifftop high – obscuring the horizon with curtains of glinting foam – which plummet dumping salty water on anyone not canny enough to see it coming.

Pebbles are pounded and occasionally hurled  and we pick a way over chunks of chalk sodden by relentless rain, crumbled and  crashed.  Those wise to waves wear waterproofs and wellies – others suffer very soggy socks. Beyond the sea wall pebbles pile up now higher than the path – their inland march blocked – for now – by concrete barricades. Meanwhile the council are considering what more to do in our defence.

But this  is Britain and and the comfort of a cup of tea is never far away for sea assaulted wanderers.  The bastion of the cafe at Ovingdean has stood the storms – and is slipping steaming cups through sturdy shutters – which are sipped while waiting for the water to abate and allow us a safe route home.

It’s  Candlemas  today – and dawn brought yet more deluge drowning drains in rain. This middle of winter or beginning of spring (according to creed) halfway  between the darkness of our shortest day and the equinox  promise – when light and dark break even. However, if ancient lore is to be  believed, the balmy sun is sign that we have more winter wildness to withhold.

If Candlemas Day be fair and bright
Winter will have another fight.
If Candlemas Day brings cloud and rain,
Winter won’t come again…

A revolting year around Sussex

As the date changes and the wind rages its time for a traditional list and last year Brighton and beyond was, overall, pretty revolting.  Across the county students, stockbrokers, pensioners and families were all moved to defy ‘authority’ and protest. Here are Brighton Beyond’s top five revolts in Sussex in 2013 – proving that spoilt (and soggy) southern softies can be brave in the face of British weather and rally behind a cause.

1.The Battle of Balcombe

Before this summer who had heard of Balcombe? That annoying extra stop made by slower trains rattling between Brighton and London.  Then Cuadrilla brought their drills. While the purpose of the test drilling was to poke around for oil, the procedure was also an analysis of the suitability of the area for fracking – blowing holes underground to get at gas.  The locals weren’t keen, and the village made global news as it attracted a protest camp and repeated demonstrations.  The only thing that succeeded in holding up the work, however, was a noise complaint. Even an MP, Caroline Lucas, Brighton Pavilion’s representative, was arrested at the site – along with assorted locals and serial objectors. As the saga continues the impact on this once quietly conservative community has been divisive.  More drilling is in prospect so the battle of Balcombe could revive.

2. Saving Newhaven’s Shimmering Sands

Many might say the run down harbour town of Newhaven doesn’t have a huge amount to offer. Residents would disagree – putting up a spirited fight to reclaim as their own a unique piece of our mostly shingle shore – a big sandy beach. Only trouble is the French won’t let the locals use it. Sounds like a Daily Mail headline? It has been. The struggling port, which links Sussex with Normandy, was bought by a french business consortium, who eventually closed the beach to the due to ‘safety fears’.  Town Council and residents have long been lobbying to reclaim the sand for public use – and this long hot summer townsfolk finally lost patience, launching a prolonged assault,  with an army of bucket and spade bearing kids.  Each night ‘pixies’ broke through the barricades allowing families and children access to the shore…. Then men in black would swoop and re-seal the gaps – only for the pixies to pop out and open a new entry. Hopes have recently been raised that access to the sands could be regained, with proposals from councils for a new path on the foreshore – the fight for the right to make sandcastles continues.

3. The Defence of Combe Haven

The defence of Combe Haven, a tranquil  wildlife filled valley and SSSI, commenced as the long contested development of the Bexhill Hastings link road got underway.  In January snow protesters perched in frozen trees, pensioners stood against diggers and grandmothers canoed on the flooded site to demonstrate its unsuitablity for development. Support came from national environmental groups  who descended in droves on this  previously sleepy side of East Sussex, guiding wildlife walks  around the valley, using it as a focus for campaigns against road building.  Arrested protestors are currently in court and apparently making authorities’ heads hurt – they have produced a film to support the cause.

4. Occupy Sussex
Early in 2013 staff and students at Sussex University rallied together in a bid to halt the outsourcing of services at the university to private companies. The proposals raised concerns about the continuing quality of service on campus alongside ideological objections on the grounds that it represents a creep towards the marketisation of higher education.  A seven week occupation of university buildings ended ugly and started a year of unrest.  Lively demonstrations gained national support from politicians and institutions  – with a few resits ensuing. Suspensions of students and ongoing demonstrations mean this dispute will carry on.

5. The Grand Old Elm of Seven Dials

Eco-activism spread to urban Brighton when residents in the Seven Dials neighbourhood  rallied to the defence of an elderly elm, which almost fell to an environmental improvement scheme.  Veterans of the Combe Valley protest occupied the elm, cars and buses were diverted and local politicians  and officials wrangled. Despite being punctured by pins from well wishers’ wishes, the lopsided elm  was saved – and now stands overlooking the completed new road layout – which our local paper reluctantly say might actually be alright.

What next?
There are plenty of plans in train to upset us in Sussex –  the biggest of which could be the proposal for a new market town across a swathe of rural West Sussex, the hint that Gatwick still isn’t excluded from getting another runway and the controversial go-head for a big runway at Lydd (OK its just over the border from Sussex, but we’ll be able to see and hear the holiday jets) – it looks like 2014 could be more revolting still.

Sussex slightly sunk under storm surge

Spring tide surprise for flood defence workers – Sept 2012

Last September saw us sniggering at Rye Harbour –  watching workers renewing flood defences seeming surprised by the high Spring tide. Water lapped against cabins, swamped plant and materials, as well as drowning long standing jettys. As workers helplessly watched and waited for the waters to subside, we wondered what might happen if the tide rose higher. Now we know.

This time last week, east coast communities were battening down the sandbags before the biggest tide for decades, brought on by one of our increasingly frequent  ‘extreme weather events’. Some of Sussex succumbed too.  The storm surge swept up the Channel, slightly submerging some of our coast.

Excavators inundated

Wayward weather is a permanently trending topic on this island, and it takes a lot to turn the tide of conversation.  However with a 60 year storm surge approaching, attention was rightly distracted to another country and the flood of feeling at the death of Nelson Mandela. Little air time was left, though, for the pockets of costly catastrophe unfolding along our coasts. For those in areas where flooding was forecast – Environment Agency alerts prevented wider harm.

Although no-one is known to have died as a result of the surge, in Norfolk cliff collapses and lost homes made headlines, along with evacuees helped out of harms’ way.  However while parts of Sussex sunk under overflowing rivers – there was barely a mention even in local news.  It took many minutes of delving online to find out what happened here.

Rye Harbour, Newhaven and Shoreham were, it seems, very small stories, with sea defences submerged as the tide reclaimed and wrecked some carefully managed land. Tens of homes and businesses got wet, main roads closed (albeit fairly briefly),  and wildlife areas got a whole lot wilder.

In Newhaven the tide oozed over the banks of the Ouse – closing our train line for a day, with commuters diverted to buses while tracks were shored back up. Tens of homes were flooded, and the swing bridge remains damaged – a barrier to the business of the port.

The surge swallowed sleeping Shoreham too – closing the main road and airport for a while, businesses and homes  got wet, and the coast road briefly closed.

At Rye Harbour, while no homes were harmed – huge damage was done to a favourite walk and cycle route as the 70 year old road to the sea was swept away  –  filmed by workers on the scene. Many niceties of the nature reserve are lost.  In the centre of Rye flood barriers just contained the tide – with water seeping through walls at the heart of the ancient town.

In the context of recent worldwide weather emergencies this was a moderate disaster – so maybe it isn’t really news? As the highest tide happened late at night, hardly anyone saw it.  The Environment Agency, responsible for flood defence, estimate in Sussex alone their work protected hundreds of homes – but some still suffered seemingly in silence.

On the day before the flood – the budget confirmed 15% cuts in our front line flood defenders.  Fifteen hundred workers will be lost from the Environment Agency before next winter’s storms.  In 2012 flooding cost the UK £800 million – with a weakened workforce and flood threats increasingly frequent – will these cuts come at additional cost for Sussex and beyond? Some commentators think so.

A walk on chalk – Hope Gap

Receding grey on the first December day surprised us, as we arrived at Seaford Head. Hats and scarves were shed by kids unleashed who screamed towards the beach.

Seven Sisters

At Hope Gap hopes are realised where the South Downs meet sea. Low tide reveals the rock pooled shore ready for small adventurers to explore. Dipping between cliffs we shuffle down steep steps to trip about on chalky flint and fossils.

Grown ups take quiet time to sit uncomfortably  on rocks and stare – at Seven ancient Sisters seeing their bright white faces in sea so still it barely laps the shore. The intertidal playground pulls younger girls to tread the seaweed slippy rocks – soaking socks and shoes in salt.

With the tide still down we stumble round crumblings of Cretaceous cliffs, tramping over ancient shapes in stone, to the canal carved two hundred years ago that takes the Cuckmere river to the sea. This channel is caving in as cuts and climate  conspire to change the water course.

A sea-change is set to come within the haven. The human hands that formed the current view are due to leave the storms and winds and tide to shunt the shingle – making meadows into marsh.

Heading back up hill we gaze on geese that graze by the meanders – that morph with wind and rain and tide. We walk now on chalk that was once the den of dinosaurs – and may soon be reclaimed by the sea.

Cuckmere Haven

Plastic and ponies the Woodingdean way

As the sunshine remained settled no settling at a desk this week. Once again the Downs beckoned and off we trotted to another well trod peri-urban path. Setting out from the dog-eared dog poo decked car park on top of Falmer Hill past ditches brimming with rogue rubbish. We find a deflated dinghy marooned with a cargo of beer – 600 feet above sea level….. a sign of very poor navigation or a very high tide indeed?

Once past the reach of not so furtive fly tippers,  the track forks down the steady curve of Bullock Hill. The Downs frame the sea and sights of Rottingdean, as we follow a sheepless path to  the quiet depths of Standean Bottom. The sounds of distant Brighton disappear, and a lone hawk hovers on no wind.  Picking a way on a path booby trapped by badgers with ankle busting burrows, the trees now bare, in the bottom, fringe a half planted field of winter green.

Broken buildings guard the gateway to Castle Hill. The only sign of life is some scrappy shavings of sheep. The rusting remains of redundant farmyard tools look alien in this landscape. The valley fields, that in August glowed as Brighton’s bread basket, are now fringed with churned up chalk.

As the sun sinks behind the hill we start a slow ascent, and swing round past gorse and grazing ponies, who watch, and munch.

Tucked in a valley corner, where the sound of cars creeps in, a dew pond reflects the sounds above as contrails cross the sky, surrounded by a Blair Witch thicket.

A steep and not too clear a climb, on narrow pony pitted deep mud tracks, leads up towards the more popular path. And, as the sun sets over Woodingdean, we can barely see the signs that we are heading home – an empty bag from Cyprus Airport duty free, and other dumped detritus, mark the trail to ‘civilisation’.

Woodingdean winter sundown

Shots of sunshine in Stanmer Park

November is now properly nippy but a burst of low level sunshine makes a wood and downland wander irresistible. How lucky are we that within Brighton’s boundary we can make a break for the hills?

Stanmer Park provides a vast varied space for kids and dogs and sports to play outside. It’s also easy to escape the weekend hordes for a quieter stride to bottoms and brows.  Meandering through Millbank Wood passes a dew pond filled with sky and trees form gold grounded tunnels while other amber leaves resist the rage of autumn storms so far.

Out on open fields, we wend a way to where walkers string along the South Downs Way, and ruminate with cows.  In the park for cars, the optimistic ice cream van sits stubbornly, enjoying the view – whatever the weather.

Turning east along the ridge, a faint growl rises from a groaning A27, connecting what look like model villages below. At Streat Hill Farm we track back towards the distant sea, serenaded by the sound of shooters. Shielded in a hillside copse – stags, hens and other parties pay to gun down (clay) pigeons and, apparently, throw axes.  The sharp shot sounds fade, replaced by crying crows, as we dip back down beneath the trees to face the last blast of early afternoon sun.

Cod Almighty – sunshine and sea life

Saturday saw glassy seas and sunshine on the shores of seaside city.  After recent bottom churning weather it was odds on that the fishes might be hungry. The boat was dispatched – about four miles offshore – to seek something for tea.

It wasn’t just the fisherman out enjoying the sun – a pod of dolphins (about ten) – thought it fun to distract the serious business of fishing with some boat side and acrobatics. While dolphin displays frequently frighten fish – maybe these were doing the fishermen a favour.  The playful by pass of of this pod precipitated a ratchet run (fishing speak for a big tug on the hook).

Tempted by a cuttle snack a hefty 27lb 7oz cod – the biggest the boat has seen to date – took the bait.  While our beaches and sea remain roughed up with rubbish – it’s reassuring to see signs of life at large in the water – and an unexpected haul of free range food.

Riders on the Storm – Sussex Style

With news reports of Brighton braced for storms – the wilder of side of Sussex embraced the waves.  Big weather events aren’t all disaster and destruction. Winds whipping up water on Southwick’s Saturday shores saw pre-storm riders  running before the wind. Windsurfers race the tides along the coast, while surfers hang out for sheltered swell inside the harbour wall. Thirsty for their thrills the neoprene tribe trot past the coffee crowd around Southwick’s hidden secret.

Waves might be clean today but the beach below is dirty – and litter pickers scatter, plucking pieces of tossed up  plastic in an effort to protect the sea life from more harm.

Today, in post stormageddon Brighton the beach patrol buzz by – warning people out of wild waves’ way.  A  boat is battered up the Black Rock beach. How has a hapless seaman missed the gaping marina mouth? i Not quite Athina B but big enough – to pull a small crowd of half term kids and dads.

As the wildest winds blow over, a swelling shoal of surfers forms, tucked in beneath the marina’s eastern arm  – to ride the rising tide. Meanwhile seagulls are seeking shelter, silenced by the screech and rattle of masts – as the wind wails east leaving heaving swell behind.

Balloon bounty on the beach – more crud at Camber

Another day, more drifting deadly debris on the tide.
Still more beached balloons are bobbing in the breeze – celebratory bubbles yet to burst and present a not so happy meal to choke any gourmet fish or gull – tempted by exotic imported morsels.

The menacing menu can be washed down today with reclaimed refreshments – a bottle of beer or a guilty looking juice.

Its no wonder stranded creatures look unwell.

As well as picnics on the beach, there’s scope for seaside sport. An abandoned football chucked up by the waves is next to a knobbled knee pad.  A tennis ball has shed its skin – a fluorescent sea slug on the shore.

Its not all playtime at this seaside though – close scrutiny reveals a micro office mingled with the shingle – a rubber, pens and the lid of of a usb.

Among the trash we do find  treasure too – a store of tiny tools to take-away.

Camber Sands, cockles and cotton buds

pretty lethal pickings

Smart glass fronted holiday homes on the shingle ridge of Camber face the far horizon, but a near shore scan reveals a gallery of gruesome goods abandoned by the tides.

Beach combing for treasure here throws up a trove of toxic trash that mingles with marine life. Do cockles clean their shells with cotton buds or celebrate big birthdays with balloons?

latex lunch for fish

abandoned butts and party pants

Every few feet deflated remnants of celebrations are shredded to sea anemone shapes, their gaudy plastic tails tangled in washed up weed – lasting far longer in the food chain than the days and years they celebrate.  This lethal legacy of holiday haven parties has potential to tangle and strangle local birds and fish.

Are shredded pants, abandoned butts, beer cans and bottles battered by the waves remnants of wild nights out?

condiments for crustaceans?

brand wars on the beach

cast away coffee

Alongside the cockle and razor shells cast aside by snacking gulls and oyster catchers, detritus from human diners drifts ashore. Near the closed for winter cafe there’s no escaping brand wars on this beach. Empty Coke and Pepsi cans compete for attention, alongside long forgotten fermenting juice and freshly left coffee cups – tasty.

While shed shells play their part in shaping shifting sands, there is no safe place for shreds of nets and tangles of line lost or dumped in the hunt to find our fish food. Washed up wings could be the sign of  seagulls snarled in line?

Has a desperate doggy made the dive to doom?

The lead of a hapless hound lies at the top of the tide – has a dog despaired of modern living and done a Reggie Perrin? Or drowned doing doggy paddle? Should I dial 999?
There are signs on shore for us – smoking kills and wind and tide can trap. But no alarms for sea life warning of the snares we set. Most victims die invisible, although the occassional corpse washes up onshore. Like this strange seahorse found drowned – seemingly strangled by its manufactured plastic mane.