Tag Archives: thrift

Plastic waste and Portuguese Men O’War on a Devon beach

Last week, on a very windy day well before storm Ophelia arrived, we visited Leas Foot Sands, one of the small coves clustered around Thurlestone Bay in South Devon.  Thurlestone Rock, a stone arch or “thirled stone” is a prominent local landmark located in the Bay.  As well as being a popular attraction for canoeists and wild swimmers, the Rock gives the village of Thurlestone its name.

Leas Foot Sands
Leas Foot Sands

When we reached Leas Foot Sands, we stood and gazed across the water at the elemental scene.  A gusty, gale force wind blew from the sea, a powerful natural force affecting everything in its path. It had been hard enough to walk there, buffeted as we were from side to side and, now, above the beach and just about able to stand, we felt specks of sand flick across our faces.  The sea was a uniform grey under the overcast sky, but the wind created many white horses offshore and a sense of agitated movement.  Chunky waves continually attacked the curving apron of yellowish-brown sand, each one finishing in a foaming mass of white water that mingled with the wind giving the air a moist, salty essence.

At the southern side of the beach, the sand and rocks were coated with a slightly unsavoury looking, brownish foam.  I remember being alarmed, some years ago, when I first saw this spume on a beach in Cornwall and feared effects of detergents. I now know that it is a mostly natural phenomenon, caused by a high wind interacting with organic matter from marine phytoplankton.

A few hardy plants grew at the back of the beach beyond the strandline, bringing welcome colour on this mostly monochrome day.  Brash yellow and white daisy-like flowers of sea mayweed bobbed in the wind and pale lilac blooms of sea rocket kept safely close to the sand along with their fleshy green leaves.  A few pink lollipop flowers of thrift struggled on exposed cliff edges.

Further down the beach, bands of dark seaweed stretched in broad arcs parallel to the shore.   The thickest band of seaweed was the result of the morning’s high tide; here the seaweed sparkled, seawater dripping off dark fronds as the tide receded.  Mixed with the seaweed were various colourful examples of plastic waste, mostly bits and pieces of fishing tackle or rope, but I also saw an old plastic yoghurt container, a bright green plastic straw and several smaller shards of plastic.  A bright pink balloon-like object clung to a flat stone nestling among the damp seaweed.  I wondered if this was some kind of joke as it vaguely resembled an inflated condom but I abandoned that idea when, further along, I came across several similar objects.  Hazel put me right, telling me that these were Portuguese Men O’War, very colourful but dangerously stinging organisms that float on the sea surface trailing long tentacles, until driven in by high winds.  There have been reports of swarms of these colourful creatures on several beaches along the south coast and warnings that the number will increase with storm Ophelia.

Behind the wet strandline was a sparser band of dry, black seaweed, presumably resulting from sporadic higher tides.  I started looking around this sector digging up the sand with a garden trowel to see what I could find.  This was too much for a woman who had recently arrived on the beach with her child and friend.

“What are you looking for?” she asked me.

“I’m trying to find plastic nurdles, have you heard of them? “ I replied

“Do you mean those small bits of industrial plastic?”

“That’s right, but I can’t find any here” I continued.

“I suppose that’s good” she suggested.

I carried on looking but was unsuccessful.  Hazel, however, found six of the lentil-sized plastic pellets, a mixture of grey and blue, on the other side of the beach.  Earlier in the year, someone had reported collecting hundreds of plastic nurdles from this beach; perhaps we were unlucky or perhaps conditions had changed.

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Marine plastic pollution is one of the major environmental challenges of our time and something I want to return to in future posts.

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Sea Mayweed at Leas Foot Sands
Sea Mayweed

 

 

Sea Rocket at Leas Foot Sands
Sea Rocket

 

Plastic beach waste at Leas Foot Sands 1
Plastic waste

 

 

Plastic beach waste at Leas Foot Sands 2
Plastic fragments

 

 

Portuguese Man O'War on Leas Foot Sands
Portuguese Man O’War with fragments of dark blue tentacles

 

Plastic nurdles collected at Leas Foot Sands 11 10 17
nurdles

 

Love bugs and other surprises at Bantham Beach in south Devon

Last weekend we took advantage of the mild weather and went to Bantham Beach for a picnic and a walk. It being Sunday, we weren’t the only ones with this idea and, by the time we arrived, a flotilla of windbreaks had appeared on the beach, sails flapping in the breeze and barbeque smoke drifting aimlessly. Bathing didn’t seem to be high on the agenda; the tide was very low and the water still rather cool, so there was much paternal sandcastle building and a group of young men worked off their testosterone in a game of head-the-football. Despite this, there was plenty of space and the situation and the views were glorious.

Burgh Island with thrift
Burgh Island with thrift

 

After our picnic, Hazel wanted to do some sketching so Elizabeth and I walked on the cliff path where there are good views across the Avon estuary to Burgh Island and its art deco, icing sugar, hotel. Thrift was beginning to form its pink, cliff-top drifts and yellow kidney vetch was showing well. A couple of rock pipits skittered skilfully around the cliffs.

As we walked, I watched out for interesting insects and was well rewarded. Several small solitary bees with black abdomens and pale stripes bathed in dandelion petals, nectaring I suppose. The BWARS experts told me that these were Andrena males but from my pictures we couldn’t identify the species.

solitary bee
male Andrena on dandelion

 

Later on we saw two black St Mark’s Flies “loved up” (I owe this expression to Emma Sarah Tennant). It is, in fact, a very appropriate expression as these flies are also called “love bugs” because of their ability to copulate in mid air.

St Mark's flies
St Mark’s Flies, mating pair. The male on the right has a much larger head and eyes despite being slightly smaller overall.

 

On a rising part of the cliff path we found a long section of hard, grass-free soil with many small holes. We also found some of the occupants, one dead and one alive. These are Polymorphic Sweat Bees (Halictus rubicundus); the females have a pale- striped, black abdomen and their hind legs are coated in yellow/orange hairs.

Halictus nests
Halictus nests. If you look carefully at the small bank on the left of the photo you can see crumbly soil coming from the nest holes.

 

Halictus rubicundus
Halictus rubicundus on hard ground.

 

Halictus rubicundus dead
dead Halictus rubicundus – they nest on the main path up the cliff and so are very vulnerable to passing walkers

 

We had agreed to meet Hazel near the Gastrobus for a drink. Elizabeth and I arrived a bit early but eventually I saw Hazel coming along the sandy path across the dunes from the beach. Suddenly she shouted: “Come quickly, get your camera, it’s an adder”. I did as she said and fumbled my camera out of its case. Sure enough slithering across the path was a very fine adder that disappeared in to the rough grass on the other side of the path leaving only swirly patterns on the sand. As I was taking the photos I did my best to look at the snake; the zigzag patterns and the colours did make an impression but the photos tell the story better.

Adder at Bantham 1
starting to cross

 

Adder at Bantham 2
nearly across

 

Adder at Bantham 3
entering the undergrowth

 

Adder at Bantham 4
the evidence

 

There are many signs dotted around the dunes at Bantham warning about ”Adders”. Now we know why!

Cogden Beach: a special and unusual Dorset place

A place of sea and sky. A vast shingle beach. A unique wild garden with spectacular flowers. Wave watching, walking, fishing, or just being alone with nature. This is Cogden Beach near Burton Bradstock in West Dorset in the South West of the UK.

It was a fitfully sunny but warm day in late May when I visited Cogden. I parked the car and descended towards the beach between dense stands of gorse, hawthorn and bramble and, once I had escaped the coast road-noise, the air was filled with birdsong. A very visible chaffinch sang from the top of a tree as if to salute the fine weather and the see-saw song of the chiffchaff echoed from the undergrowth.

View from road
The view from the coast road with the beach and the sea

Cogden is a place where you can literally “see for miles” and the distinctive outlines of Portland to the East and Golden Cap to the West were clear. Spread out ahead of me was the broad shingle beach, a yellowish-brown stripe cutting across my field of vision. Beyond the beach lay the sea, its mirror surface a steely blue, disturbed only by wavelets that glittered in the occasional sunshine as though a host of fireflies were dancing.

View east from Cogden
The seaward face of the shingle beach at Cogden looking towards Portland – with people fishing and walking

Eventually, the path flattened out and I made my way on to the shingle beach, hard work on the pea-sized pebbles. The beach near the land is broad and flat and relatively sheltered but eventually it descends steeply to the sea. This seaward face is a harsher environment as the bank is attacked relentlessly by a procession of waves and, in a strong swell, the pebbles move in sympathy, roaring as they go.

Cogden Beach 2
Sea Kale on the landward side of Cogden Beach – looking towards Portland

I’ve walked on the Cogden shingle many times and thought I knew it well, but today I was greeted by an extraordinary vision. Vast tracts of the stony beach bordering the land seemed, when viewed from a distance, to have been splashed with daubs of white paint. Upon closer inspection, I saw that these daubs were huge clumps of Sea Kale, some more than a metre across. The base of each clump comprised many thick, crinkly, grey-green leaves and the centre a prodigious display of flower stems topped with a froth of small white flowers so that each clump had more than a passing resemblance to an oversized cauliflower. By the time winter arrives, this riot of vegetation will have disappeared, leaving a sad scattering of brown leaves and stems but, under the pebbles, the crown will be waiting to produce next spring’s fantastic display.

Cogden Beach 1
Sea Kale flowers (and leaves)

Sea Kale has a long culinary history. The Victorians loved Sea Kale as a vegetable, particularly the young shoots which they forced by covering with pebbles. They picked it almost to extinction and, thanks to their efforts, it is now found only in a handful of places in the UK. There has been a recent resurgence of interest in Sea Kale, stimulated by celebrity chefs, but don’t be tempted to forage in the wild: Sea Kale is protected under the Wildlife and Countryside Act (1981) and anyway seeds and plants are available commercially.

Cogden Beach 3
Drifts of Thrift on Cogden Beach – with Sea Kale on the left of the picture.

 

Thrift at Cogden Beach
Flowers of Thrift (Sea Pink)

The dominant plant at Cogden in spring is Sea Kale, but it is by no means alone on the beach. Parts of the shingle are colonised by large drifts of pink Thrift, its flowers nodding merrily in a light breeze. I also saw Yellow Horned Poppies, just coming in to flower above their frizzy, silvery-green leaves. They will produce a succession of delicate lemon yellow blooms all summer and are named for their long, horn-like seed pods. There were a few clumps of Sea Campion covered with white trumpet-shaped flowers and some large mats of Sea Sandwort decorated with many small, starry, white blooms. The shingle garden is a profusion of flowers at this time of year but by the winter, there will be little to see and the beach will feel almost post-apocalyptic in its desolation.

Yellow Horned Poppy 1
Yellow Horned Poppy growing on the shingle at Cogden Beach

 

Yellow Horned Poppy 2
Close up of a Yellow Horned Poppy flower

 

Sea Campion at Cogden Beach
Sea Campion at Cogden Beach

 

Sea sandwort at Cogden
A dense mat of Sea Sandwort growing on the shingle at Cogden Beach

 

But how do these plants survive and prosper here? Cogden Beach is a harsh environment in all seasons with high winds, salt spray, occasional saline inundation and little or no soil or fresh water. Anyone who has stood on the pebble bank in a strong wind will know what I mean. If they managed to stay upright they will have tasted strong salt on the blustery air.

In fact, the plants are quite choosy about where they grow. The majority of beach plants at Cogden grow above the strandline on the sheltered landward side of the beach. Here there is an extensive tract of stable shingle stretching eastwards and the plants colonise this special environment. The plants that thrive here are also adapted to cope with harsh conditions. Frequently their leaves are fleshy with a waxy coating to prevent loss of water. The roots of some plants extend deeply in to the shingle in search of fresh water; in the case of Sea Kale they can stretch up to two metres. Some plants grow as large mats with extensive root systems to help them adhere in high winds. At the cellular level the plants have multiple mechanisms for dealing with the prevailing high salt.

But it’s not just the plant life that inspires people when they visit Cogden. Whenever I go there I find “beach art”, usually clever constructions made with the flat stones lying around the beach. This time I found a mini “Stonehenge” that must have taken hours to build.

Beach art at Cogden
“Beach Art”

 

 The featured image at the top of this post shows Sea Kale at Cogden looking west towards Golden Cap.  All the pictures were taken on May 26th 2015.  This article features in the July edition of the Marshwood Vale Magazine.

Cogden Beach is at the western end of Chesil Beach and can be accessed either via the South West Coast Path or from the National Trust Car Park on the coast road (B3157) between Burton Bradstock and Abbotsbury. OS grid reference SY 50401 88083, GPS coordinates 50.690271, -2.7035263.

National trust sign at Cogden

Coast path at Cogden

Mansands – the name says it all, or does it?

Mansands Beach, South Devon

On one of the recent warm days we were back on the South West Coast Path. Heading east towards Brixham, with a few miles yet to walk, we started to descend from the flat cliff top and the beach at Mansands appeared ahead of us. It’s a wider cove than many in this part of South Devon with some hints of settlement. The picture above (taken on June 6th 2013) shows the sweep of rocky beach enfolded by the surrounding cliffs and if you look carefully you can see a low building with white walls. This used to be Coastguard Cottages but is now private housing. The cottages were built in the 19th century by French prisoners from the Napoleonic wars but they now have some 21st century touches with the roofs boasting solar panels.

Limekiln at Mansands, Devon

Tucked away below the cottages and above the beach is what appears at first sight to be a rough alcove made from stone blocks. Once you have lived in Devon for a few years you recognise this as one of the many lime kilns found around the coast and on some inland waters. These date from the 18th and 19th centuries and were used to convert limestone in to lime. The lime was used to make mortar for building and lime wash for whitening cottage walls. Lime was also used in farming where, spread on fields, it counteracted the acidity of local soil and improved fertility. Limestone came from local quarries and was “burnt” in the kilns using coal brought from South Wales. The kilns were built near water so that materials could be delivered by boat.

Sea pinks at Mansands, Devon

Near the limekiln was this bright purple clump of thrift (sea pinks) growing in a crevice in the rock, the flowers darker than the usual pink.

One thing puzzles me – how did the name Mansands come about? I want it to be like the town of Manly in New South Wales where the name was given to denote the “confidence and manly behaviour of the locals” when it was first discovered by settlers. But in fact the derivation is much more prosaic; the name, Mansands comes from the Anglo-Saxon gemaen meaning common. According to Valerie Belsey in her book, Exploring Green Lanes in the South Hams, the sands could have been shared by two manors, hence they would have been common.