Kingswear

I woke up early at 6am in my old childhood bedroom at my parents’ house in Exeter, as I was visiting ahead of the second Covid19 pandemic lockdown. The morning sky was bright with the dawn sun tinging the clouds read as it rose unseen behind the family home. I did my daily nature ritual connecting with the kingdom of plants that day. I took my breakfast outside into my parent’s well tended garden, and sat on a stone step by the large garden pond, with deep orange goldfish slowly stirring below the reflective surface, under the lily pads. Goldfinches twittered and chattered to each other in the large hawthorn tree growing just beyond the garden fence. A robin landed in its gnarly branches and struck up his beautiful, melodic song. He was rudely interrupted by a ring-necked dove landing heavily at the top of the tree’s crown, which sent the robin darting for cover. A solitary crow flapped his black, fanned wings as he passed overhead and seagulls circled unusually silently in the sunny sky with billowing storm clouds forming around. The deep red leaves of a small acer tree were strewn across the rockery, and various plants still flowered hopefully in the late Autumn, as the first frost was yet to arrive.The day already seemed filled with natural gifts as I decided to use the better than forecast weather to visit one of my favourite beaches, Scabbacombe Cove, nestled snugly in a coastal valley in South Devon between Brixham and Dartmouth.

I packed a lunch and set off in the mid-morning sunshine, although the darker clouds suggested seasonal showers would be dowsing and fertilising the land during my walk this day. I arrived at the National Trust car park in good time. The low sun was still shining as I embarked down a stony path, with classic Devonshire, high sided hedges on both sides. Rounding a corner, I was treated to a grand view of a steep sided, grassy valley with a deep blue sea beyond, broken up with wind-whipped, white-horse, waves. Such views of the open sea always evoke wistful thoughts of travel and adventure in me, and invited my imagination to spread out into the wide world.

I reached a very wet and muddy section of the path, just before a gate into a field, and this felt like the time to take off my trail shoes and let the cool mud seep up between my toes. It was wonderful to feel the cool Earth beneath me, and another treat for my foot soles to feel the wet-dewy grass as I descended the steep field into the valley leading to the cove. I rounded the hill into a wide vista of the sea, with Scabbacombe cove beckoning below. The sea waves gently sighed onto the beach of mixed sand and shingle. High headlands on either side of the cove seemed to soar in the white light of the late morning sun. Another steep and slippery descent brought me to the top of the beach, fed by a stream, tumbling it’s bubbling waters onto the flat worn rocks on the beach, and twisting down to meet the sea like a child returning to its mother. I walked out onto the beach over the flat rocks, with the clear stream water cooling my feet and ankles. I reached that magical place where the stream joyously mingles with the sea waves. I let my feet sink into the sand as the gentle waves lapped onto my lower legs. The water felt pleasantly mild as the cooler Autumn had not yet penetrated the sea’s great, summer warmed, body.

I was soon followed onto the beach by a couple and their three children, that I had said ‘hello’ to back up in the car park and could hear their youthful and happy family chatter behind me as I had walked down. I walked on across the beach to visit a beautiful cliff-top waterfall at the far end of the beach, which gushes out of a grassy channel at the top, and pours down the cliff to form a mesmerising, melodic stream through smoothed and polished dark blue-grey, striated rocks at the bottom. As I stopped to take a photo of the grassy headland with orange-brown tufted bracken bordering its edges, I could hear the family chatter close behind me. I realised that they were also making a ‘bee-line” for the cliff-top waterfall. I was happy to let the eager father and his three kids to pass me and climb up onto the rocks under the waterfall, while I chatted pleasantly to the mother briefly, finding out that they lived locally. I pottered about in the rock pools by the sea where the waterfall stream met the waves. After the family had enjoyed their time up by the waterfall and walked down to where I was by the sea, I took my turn and walked up to the waterfall, as it’s waters glistened and danced in the sunlight, free-falling to crash on the rocks below. The family soon headed back along the beach, and as their chatter slowly faded away, I was lucky enough to spend the next few hours undisturbed in this magical spot. I sat eating my lunch on the polished rocks, with the waterfall tumbling down nearby, my feet caressed by the cool stream waters flowing by. I looked out to the, endlessly, rolling waves, fluorescing foam from their crown tips as the cold wind tried futilely to blow them back out to sea. The wide, whitish-grey, sands blazed in the sunlight forming wavy, patterned, lines of graded sizes and colours of silicon granules, gently woven like textile threads by the retreating sea. Seagulls spiralled in great flocks above the sea, which dissipated almost as soon as they’d formed. High, voluminous, cloudscapes formed inland blowing out over the back of the beach, creating dramatic light shows with the rays of the low white sun angled upwards. The clouds released occasional, brief showers of rain, turning into dark torrential storms over the sea. I took cover in nearby sea caves when the rain grew heavy and more persistent, which led me to explore the dark and mysterious depths of a larger sea cave, drips echoing loudly in the tidal pools beneath its salty, rocky, echoing chambers.

After sitting, meditating on the beautiful, natural gifts of my surroundings, on the smoothed rocks by the stream for a few hours, I ambled back along the beach, as the descending late afternoon sun cast lengthening shadows from the pebbles and rocks strewn artfully across the sand and shingle. I stood ankle deep amidst the waves, occasionally jumping backwards, when a larger wave from the incoming tide threatened to submerge my rolled up trousers. I decided to reluctantly leave the magic behind, and make my way back up over the flattened river rocks of the larger stream I had walked down hours earlier when I had entered the beach. However, nature had one more gift for me before I left; a small, lively rock pipit picked and flicked its way through the flotsam left high on the tide line looking for insects and morsels to eat. I watched her at close quarters for several minutes, taking a nice video with my camera. It was now finally time to say goodbye to this beach haven, and head back up the green, grassy valley to my car. I bumped into a friendly Liverpudlian hiker and wild camper for my second human encounter of the day as I began my climb back up the hill. He asked if I was ‘mad’ to be walking barefoot in the Autumn, and I extolled the virtues of feeling the Earth beneath one’s feet. He was planning to wild camp on the beach in the cold Autumn night, and I suggested that he might be ‘madder’ then me!

As I climbed the hill, I stopped to sit in the waning sunlight, and look back out across the sea with its white, roiling waves stretching out to the curving edge of the Earth. A huge seven story cruise ship, looking like a floating city, was moored far out, apparently taking refuge in the coastal waters as the raging Covid19 pandemic had turned such vessels into death traps. I took the steep climb back up through the valley fields. A stormy squall hit me as I climbed, turning a pleasant stroll, into a freezing battle against the wind. I made it to the sheltered, muddy lane, only enduring some half-intentionally induced nettle stings to my bare ankles along the way. Such nettle stings are apparently good for the blood flow in herbal medicines, and I like to feel this stingy connection with one of my favourite wild plants. I reached my lone car in the car park and headed for my parents’ home. As I descended towards Paignton, I was greeted by a vividly coloured and spectacular double rainbow in the evening sunlight. One end of the rainbow fell into the deep blue waters of the bay, arced over cruise ships sheltering there, and fell far out to sea on the other side. I drove on, smiling inside, my heart filled full with the natural wonders of the day.Read more