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KYST 46 From the car park I walked sodden fields to the start point at Risegård. Despite the gloomy weather forecast the sky was completely clear and the onshore wind was steady rather than strong. The small hawthorn bush that I had ended last week’s KYST trip with had completely lost its leaves and a tangled mess of brambles, rosehips, bushes and trees were silhouetted dramatically against the delicate hues of the new day.
I walked down to the coast and headed west until I found the much reduced outlet of the Rise stream, which I followed back up, through a tiny steep and wooded valley, until I came to the small waterfall marking the divide between the Silurian Slate and the more easily eroded Triassic clays. It is a tiny geological feature, and the waterfall was nothing but a trickle, but it felt wonderful to be alone, surrounded and confronted by physical manifestations of layered time.
Eventually I packed up and continued along the coast, with the wind and sun on my back. I walked along a dynamic coast of clay, shale, siltstone and sandstone. An incredibly eclectic and multicoloured collection of large sandstone and granite boulders lined the shore, collecting in larger groups where the coast jutted out into the sea.
To my right the layers of red and green clay oozed on to the beach, sometimes banded with sandstone or shale, and sometimes forming a steep escarpment or cliff in part collapsed or eroded by the sea. Many of the higher and softer escarpments were riddled with the burrows of nesting sand martins. As I walked along the coast I thought about how every time I visited this part of the coast it seems altered or transformed by the weather conditions, or changes wrought by a storm. I thought about the incessant action of the waves and wind, the scouring and scraping of glaciers, the movement and shifting of continental plates, the subterranean heat and pressure – the action of time and energy through seconds, days, years, and through millennia.
I continued along the coast for a while, eventually stopping under the M60 for a respite from the wind and a bite to eat. Here I collected a random collection of beach pebbles and made some detailed colour studies. Despite the incredible diversity of colours, patterns and textures is there did seem to be an undercurrent of visual harmony.
Already the day was racing away from me and I continued along the broad sweep of the Sose bay. Looking back from where I had been, the low sun enriched the autumnal browns and oranges of the coastal vegetation.
I reached the mouth of the Lilleå, where I sat for a while and watched the sun as it dropped down towards the horizon. I made one last sketch (see top) of Sose bay battling with the humidity and changing light conditions, before packing up and trudging exhaustedly all the way back to the car park.
Weather report = Unbroken sun all day. Temperature between 10°C and 5°C. Wind between 4 and 7 m/s from the southeast. Hours of sunshine: 8.5 hours.
Lessons learned – I took a larger drawing board and was very happy with it. Also, don’t get sand on the bottom of the rubber water cup, it will slide off and spill.
Stops with the M60 = 1
Kilometers walked = 6.37 km
Day lasted = 8 hours, 27 minutes
Birds seen and heard = 18 species (0 new ones = running total 138)
Other stuff = Very few birds today. Strange. I did see some wonderful Long tailed ducks, my first since Spring, which seemed to confirm both the circular passing of time, and how close I am to finishing this KYST project.
People talked to = 2 ( 1 + 1)
In my head – Birdman, the movie, Shallows the song, Tor’s impending visit to New Zealand, BJJ, deadlines, the kindness of strangers