Autumn. October, 2017
Cow Gap and Beachy Head Lighthouse
At the top of the steep hill leading off from the South Downs Way the traffic noise of Eastbourne begins to fade. The descent leads into the browns, blacks and greens of the dying wild flowers. Stems as dry as straw lean and bend at defeated angles. Their heads wave, shaking off the last of their black seeds into the sea breeze. Stepping among the flowers onto the shrubby chalk grasslands sends a thick flurry of insects tumbling into the air. The noise of the town is replaced by the chirp of the bird and cricket.
Lining the side of the hill, marker posts of
Small, low hawthorn trees.
They bend double as their branches tangle like hair in the wind,
Straining to climb away from cliff edge and sea.
The cool light of dusk begins to appear. It stains the white tufts of pappus, making it appear as though each thistle holds a blue bulb in its globe.
The sound of the waves greets you at the top of a set of steps that tumbles away from the hills. Wood fronted, cut into the chalk, their rust marked steel pegs twist as the ground around them erodes. A ridge of white chalk appears alongside before rising quickly above as you walk below the cliff face.
The burnt orange flowers of the Carline Thistle line the new path.
Voices of fishermen catch on the air
Drifting up from the beach below
They complain of wives and girlfriends
Of the fish and the sea
To each other and the wind.
A bee optimistically flies from thistle to thistle. An angler in a bright yellow oilskin passes, carrying a catch of sea bass.
The path plunges down again between tall hedgerows that brush stiffly against arm and leg. Shrubs tumble down the face of the cliffs and ridges above. The path is now tucked under the enveloping slopes of Beachy Head high away to the northwest.
Above, the tourist coaches disgorge their contents,
Slipping in white trainers down grass paths,
Sliding toward a selfie at cliff’s edge.
Paw prints and droppings mark the stubble grass beneath your feet. As you near the beach the hedgerows recede, giving way to wind shocked grasses. The small steel staircase sends clanging echoes from under foot before the crunch of Cow Gap beach below.
A lunar landscape of fallen chalk and rock is waiting. Swirled ridges run through the dark Gault clay. Large boulders, not yet settled, dot the beach, molluscs clinging to their sides. Long black ropes of seaweed lie knotted around the edge of large clear rock pools. Tucked away from the tide, sheltering below the low cliffs scattered driftwood and piles of fishing tackle.
Turning west a carpet of green and purple seaweed sinks and springs below you. Rock and clay grow to head height. An occasionally glimpsed wink of light guides the way through the alleys and avenues. A scrambling climb leads out on to the clay plateau ahead.
The sand sings below
Waiting for the return of the tide.
The sea picks at the edges of the beach, running through the valleys and over stone and fossil. On the horizon the red and white stripes of Beachy Head lighthouse, illuminated by the orange and purple of the setting sun.
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