There was a bit of a chill in the air in Sidmouth yesterday, and taking photos with gloves on isn’t the easiest way. But I parked and went east, barely looking towards the sea until I got to the cliff.
This area calls itself the beginning of our Jurassic coast, but the stone is in fact even earlier, Triassic sandstone, and a mile or so further east, the cliff changes to chalk, towards Beer on the horizon. I was looking to see if there has been any further erosion.
Then I turned back towards the west and the low winter sun.
I was immediately stuck by the pink line that looked like a sand bar. It isn’t, just the sun sliding through low clouds.
I walked the length of the seafront, mesmerised.
The sky became increasingly dramatic.
I snapped away happily and stared, probably with my mouth open.
The view was lovely right to the end of the path. My hands were frozen by then, so I found shelter, and tomato and paprika soup in my favourite sea front café, Mocha. I even got the best seat, in the corner with a high stool by the window.
I didn’t edit these photos, except to make them smaller, and they don’t quite show the vibrant colours, so I’ll have to leave it to your imagination.
Once I’d got my breathe back, I tried to get some good shots, but the blue sky from earlier was misty.
Looking west they were roaring and churning.
and to the east, just as rough and the distant cliffs of Lyme Bay were hidden in the sea mist.
We wandered down the slipway by the breakwater. The only shelter from the wind was up close to the wall.
But there was more to see on the pebbles, I liked the black and white one and was tempted to take it home, but didn’t.
The lifeboat man 😉 stood guard opposite the RNLI station, he’s been waiting there for a very long time.
We’ll come back and check the cliffs a bit later. For now we’re having a little respite from the wind, and heading for town.
The Square will be elbow to elbow with people in six months time, for the folk festival, but all is quiet on the last Friday in January.
The Anchor is a lovely pub, all year round and they host live music and even story telling during the festival.
We had hot chocolate and rich, buttery shortbread in a favourite seafront café, Mocha, and then tempted by a bit of blue sky, stepped across the esplanade.
We watched for a while and I must say I was glad to see him safely back on the beach (excuse the photo, my i phone can’t manage the distance).
The empty esplanade is waiting for summer, just as I am.
For now we’ll head into the sea mist, towards the cliffs.
At the end of the promenade the river Sid trickles into the sea, and it’s no longer safe to walk on that part of the beach, because of the frequent landslides that are eroding the sandstone.
Can you see the pieces of wood dangling down from the clifftop? It’s the remains of a fence that was previously beside the south West Coast Path, at the bottom of someone’s garden. Lots of Britain’s coastline is being reclaimed by the sea, gradually washing away. Sidmouth could look very different in a few generations from now.
Lucid Gypsy 