Barton

 

We walked the coast to the edge of Milford-on-Sea and back this morning, about 11 miles. It was another grey drab walking day, we even had rain on our backs for a good chunk of the outward leg; that said, it brightened for our return. Nice walking whatever. I don't mind walking alone (other human wise, I mean), though not all the time. It must be nearly 18 months since I last walked with friends... and, that's a long time. Of course circumstances dictate, so no point moaning. I miss the walking talks though, where our long form conversations would range wildly; all those conversations 'we' never had I've still had to myself... I really do go on. Such turbulent times too, with so many topics and events to talk about, a period of huge socio-political, cultural, economic and environmental crises...and I've got opinions on most of them. Time with myself has me thinking my friends must be enjoying a welcome break from me.

Void in a groyne

 

Void in a groyne.

Naish Beach

It's a blessing that most people don't like to walk far from the Bunny, so that if you walk that little bit further along Naish Beach, other the occasional intrepid like-minded explorer you'll find yourself left in peace to muse. Marvellous! 

Mellow morning

A subdued scene from our walk along the Barton slides foreshore this morning. Mellow. Nice, mind.

Solitude

The beach was ours this morning.

Coastal defence

Wooden framework amongst the 'rock armour' at the base of the Barton slips.

Resistance is futile

The cliffs below Barton look like a battleground, all disturbed soil, exposed pipework, twisted and broken steel sheet pile. What your looking at is a war as old as us, a war waged between man and nature, and a war we're most definitely going to lose. The geology along this stretch of the coast lends itself to slippage, it's all marine clays and sands, topped with gravels, lateral slippage is inevitable. By the 1960's erosion was increasingly threatening/destroying property, and a massive civil engineering project was undertaken to stabilize the cliffs.  It never really worked. Well, it did to a degree, though slippages still occurred, they were less severe. A sort of temporary stalemate was achieved. That changed at the beginning of this century as over a few years the cliffs saw a number of destructive landslides and creeping slippages. It's appeared relatively quiet over the past few years, relatively. I often wonder when traversing this chaotic landscape, what the plan will be when the cliffs start moving with purpose again. Because they will. Same old battle? Or will we concede to the inevitable and retreat from the cliff top.