Coast – When Life Gives You Lemons

When I was thirteen, my family moved to Eastbourne. I felt like Charlie Bucket unwrapping his chocolate bar to reveal the golden ticket. Could it be true that I was actually coming to live in a resort that I had once visited on holiday? My life would be a permanent vacation!

Eastbourne on a perfect day Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Of course, it was not exactly that, but it was an amazing place to grow up. My friend and I would venture into the sea and exalt at being tumbled by the freezing waves; I would go on romantic walks along the proms lit by pearl necklaces of light; and weekends often involved hikes high on the cliffs and facing down the unrelenting wind.

I grew up, moved away and across the world, but when it came to having my own children, like the salmon, I swam back here. If I could raise my children in a place with acres of wilderness and the sea minutes away, what more could they ask for?

Sea bathing

Though sea bathing, as a health cure, began as early as the 17th century, it wasn’t until the late 18th that things really took off. And when the railways arrived, a trip to the seaside was available and affordable to almost everyone. There is a lovely article about the Victorians and the seaside here, which you might enjoy: https://www.ironbridge.org.uk/learn/museum-collections/stories-from-the-collections/victorian-seaside/

But I digress.

One of the great joys of living so close to the sea is that, on a fine day, I can be there in minutes. If my husband is home, the weather fine and the sea moderately calm, we might attempt a swim. (I should add that my husband swims and surfs in all weathers. I, however, am a little more delicate!) Perfect conditions collided on Tuesday and my first swim of the year achieved.

Not quite as elegant, but I think my costume was more practical (I did take my shorts off!)

Swimming for health

It is rather curious, is it not, how circular history is? Sea swimming was promoted for health centuries ago, then it became a recreation and now, once again, is being seen for its significant healing properties thanks to Wim Hof et al. Since I have written about the benefits of sea/wild swimming, I shan’t go into detail again, but be assured that a dip in chilly and potentially dangerous waters creates resilience in a way that few other experiences can.

Health aside, it is simply exhilarating. One is challenged by the temperature of the sea (cold to freezing), the power of the tides and the unpredictable assault of the waves. It is relatively safe, yet we get all the thrill of the extreme athlete!

There are those who enjoy sea swimming all year round, but I am not (not yet at least) on of them.

A place for all seasons

But the coast offers its treasures no matter what the time of year. Those of us who live here often confess to enjoying the sea most during the winter months. The sea becomes a grey behemoth spitting and snarling at the water’s edge. And when it gets really angry, great sponges of seafoam and pebbles are tossed onto the mainland.

The flora of the coast is more subtle and sparse than that on more fertile ground, but even the chalkland can put on an eye-catching display. There are cowslips and wild thyme and even orchids to be found. On the pebbles, I’ve spotted wild geraniums, sea kale and even poppies.

Within the rockpools are whole worlds of creatures and on land rare butterflies and beetles. The coast does not give up its secrets easily, but give it a little attention and you will be surprised and delighted with what you find.

A natural anti-depressant

At a time when anxiety and depression is spiralling out of control, I really wish that doctors would prescribe fewer drugs and more trips to the seaside. If ever I am feeling troubled, a walk by the sea is all I need. The wind scrubs my cheeks; whips my hair into knots and cleanses my lungs with bracing, briny air. If it rains, no matter; it is just more water. There isn’t room for any thought but getting through the elements. And against the backdrop of such magnificence, our petty worries seem small indeed.

**Sea of tranquillity** Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

And perhaps this is the greatest gift that the coast can give. It’s very magnitude and power leave us gasping in awe. If we still our thoughts and concentrate on what is before us, we grasp, briefly, a sense of communion with the universe. It is both humbling and uplifting.

Though writing about a rural landscape, I think that Wordsworth’s words fit equally well in describing the effect of the sea upon the viewer.

Of aspect more sublime; that blessed mood,
In which the burden of the mystery
In which the heavy and weary weight
Of all this unintelligible world,
Is lightened (37-41).

From :’Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern Abbey’:

If only for a moment, ‘the heavy and weary weight’ is lifted and such a release is sometimes all we need to bring us back into balance.

We are blessed to live on an island where the coast is never more than 70 miles away. Our coastline is, with few exceptions, all public and accessible. A short trip is all we need to make to refresh our bodies and our minds. And this weekend? I think you know where I’m heading.

We are back in the Highlands enjoying a Robert Macfarlane kind of holiday, for here, Nature is full of enchantment. This year, we have ventured even further north to the coast at Nairn (near Inverness). What we have discovered is that the Highlands are like a magician’s trick: every time you think that you have fully explored an area, a wand is waved and another wonder is revealed.

Though we have been here just a week, my journal and camera are bursting with observations. I’ve selected the highlights for you to enjoy here and next week, I shall share the rest.

**Near Loch Ness – A touch of the supernatural**
Image: Celine Geeurickx

I-Spy on the motorway

Our journey was nothing if not fraught. The car clogged motorway slowed our progress to a snail’s pace (sometimes literally). What should have taken eight hours for the first stretch took eleven and not until we were far into Scotland did the traffic improve. Thinking back to last week’s blog, I decided to do an I-Spy on the drive. It passed the time and cheered me, for even the bleak asphalt was fringed with beauty and glimpses of nature. I spotted a rabbit, a deer, baby lambs and red kites by the dozen. Trees were coming into leaf and tipped with palest green; the budding silver birches’ tops were haloed with deep pink. Inspiring architecture, both ancient and modern, could be seen from the road and when I saw a rainbow, I knew this boded well for us.

Fabulous flora

The joy of travelling during the spring is that one is rewarded with gorgeous floral displays. Nairn is in a very sheltered position and has a micro-climate that allows for a wider range of flowers than its colder neighbours. All through the town the grass borders are filled with various golden narcissi. Giant camellias spill their rose pink blooms over the stone garden walls. Under the trees bloom the woodland flowers of white and blue anemone and whenever one walks in the borders between beach and forest one is assailed by the delicious pina colada scent of broom.

Fascinating fauna

Our first full day in Nairn, we ventured across the Moray Firth to see the bottlenose dolphins. We were not disappointed. I would love to include here some stunning photos of dolphins leaping in the air and smiling impishly. Alas, we were far away on the shore and the dolphins were shy- only breaking through the water to reveal their dorsal fins. But that was enough for me.

**Dolphins** Image: Shelby Cohron on Unsplash

I had hoped to see seals too – only to discover that it was an either or proposition. The two are seldom seen together. Perhaps we shall have to make another trip.

A trip here would not be complete without seeing some Highland cows. There are three in a field nearby and I have seen countless others in the farms surrounding the town. My husband noticed that the ones he passes on his daily walk with Hermione have companion birds who presumably feast on the ticks and grubs buried in their shaggy, voluptuous coats.

Pheasants are in abundance as well as an endless array of field and sea birds. The salt water mashes on the edges of the forest at Nairn are home to many species that are endangered. I’m going to bring binoculars and a bird guide next time.

Once more unto the beach

Water is everywhere here. Rivers tumble into the sea from all directions and no matter where you are, the sea is there on the horizon. Nairn beach is sand and extends for miles; Findhorn, like the Black Isle, is surrounded on three sides. Land projects into sea and sea links to land through the river arteries.

**The beach at Nairn**
Image: Karen Costello-McFeat

Nairn beach is rather typical of a seaside town. Findhorn beach, in contrast, seems to have been hewn from another planet. To reach the East Beach at Findhorn, one must first negotiate the giant, marram tufted sand dunes and then scramble down onto the pebbly beach. The pebbles here are so rounded and so colourful that they seem to have been worked with a rock tumbler. They reminded me of sugared almonds in their pale nursery hues. Then this beach too drifts into sand.

What my less than perfect camera does not show is that almost all views of the sea have the mountains in the background. Some are snow capped and others rugged granite, but all an imposing backdrop.

Land of the fairy folk

When I suggested that Scotland was magical, well, I was not being entirely metaphorical. In these vast and often hostile landscapes, belief in the fairy folk who stole milk, made horses lame and stole children only to replace them with changelings was common. How else to account for the trials with which life assaulted you? And fairy folk (fair folk or good people as they prefer to be called) in Scotland are not especially nice. In fact, cross them and they are often downright wicked. Do not, under any circumstances, succumb to the offer of hospitality in a fairy hill unless you plan to stay there a hundred years.

Though few would now admit to believing in this mythical race, the Highland retains a sense of the possibility of the supernatural. We went for a walk in the Fairy Wood near Rosemarkie on the Black Isle and if I were to choose a setting for my tiny, underground neighbours, this would certainly be it: towering ancient trees, pristine burns tumbling along and the path ending at a perfect waterfall. The walk that was easy for others, was brutal for me, but as a childhood fairy lover, I was certainly not going to miss this treat. I would crawl home if I had to. Fortunately, that was not required. And my pains were rewarded with a dreamscape of nature.

**In the realm of Titania**
Image: Jeff Costello-McFeat

Next week, I shall embark on the cultural pleasures of Scotland. Till then – mar sin leat! (Goodbye) x

Tag: Coast

Oh! I do like to live beside the seaside!