On Sunday after more mineral wool fun, TBH and I found ourselves with time on our hands and no kids to fend for (the in-laws having once again stepped into the breach). We enjoyed a peaceful walk for a leisurely lunch at the Wolfhouse House Gallery. Odd to walk past the pond at Woodwell without pausing to fish for algae with big sticks. And to saunter around the gallery taking a proper look at the art and craft on display without the distraction of worrying about the potential for breakages at toddler level. Our return route was more circuitous, taking in Jenny Brown’s Point and Jack Scout. In Fleagarth Wood anemones were flowering.
Later I was out again, on my own, in the last of the light. As I walked down the road to the Cove I could hear the tide coming in before I saw it. One of the quirks of the current channels in the bay is that a finger of water runs up the reclamation scheme wall to Jenny Brown’s Point and the turns northward running up the coast, leaving island sandbanks behind it. What I could hear were the crosscurrents and rips of the fast flowing water heading up that channel. On the far bank four oystercatchers watched impassively as several small dark items floated swiftly past on the in-rush.
It was darker than this photo suggests, but it is possible to make out some of the turbulence in the channel.
I climbed on to the small cliff-top path and, leaning against the wall, watched twin fingers of water reach out across a large sandbank. The tide was cutting in to the sandbank from both the seaward and the landward sides with fingers which extended and widened with astonishing rapidity. The single sandbank was soon two, both diminishing as I watched. I’ve read that it’s impossible to outpace the tides here on foot. I can well believe it.
Meanwhile the moon, queen of the tides, looked on impassively.