Sea Fog

[puddleshark]

I have been playing hide-and-seek with the rooks in the sea fog up on St Alhelm's Head.




Following the chalk track along the headland to St Aldhelm's Head, with all landmarks vanished, and the wind artistically blowing curtains of fog across the path.


Along the chalk track, the tall wiry stems of Black Mustard adorned not with flowers, but with snails: brown snails, striped snails, yellow snails. Their shells shining, varnished by fog.

Things flowering along the track: purple Knapweed and Milk Thistles, pink Mallow, yellow spikes of Agrimony, silver-leaved Artemisia. Too windy a day for butterflies and birdsong. But glimpses of whitethroats, sparrows, skylarks and goldfinches busy in the rough field margins.






A great flock of rooks had all gathered on the white chalk track. I don't know why - you would have to ask the rooks. But we played a game of hide-and-seek in the fog for a while.





It is a magical thing, to be walking through a monochrome world of white track and white fog, with the black rooks swirling above. My photos did not come out well, but I don't care.


The barley not quite managing the Fields of Gold thing. Cheer up, Barley. Fields of Bronze isn't a bad effort on such a dark day.

It's not possible to get lost on the track along St Aldhelm's head. There are no turnings, and no crossroads. Still I wasn't entirely sure where I was, until the old Coastguard cottages suddenly loomed out of the fog in a very Gothic manner.





St Aldhelm's Chapel materialising, possibly from the 12th century.


The Coastwatch lookout station, though I don't think they would be doing much looking out this morning.


The Coast Path, with cliffs on the left, and the sound of the sea. But neither the drop nor the water visible.

Sat for a while on a very damp bench with no views of anything, except the fog blowing in curtains. If there were gulls soaring over the cliffs, they were invisible gulls. Poured coffee from a flask, and the wind kindly blew on it so that it wasn't too hot. A skylark began to sing. Just one, battling against the wind. There's always one.


The path down to Chapman's Pool. I did not take it, because a) it is steep, and b) I couldn't see whether Chapman's Pool was even there today.

Time to turn back and retrace my steps.





Just past the working quarry, I saw two hares. One ran along the track, saw me, and changed direction with so much force that it skidded on the chalk, launching itself into the long grass. The other was only visible as a pair of black-tipped ears in the tall grass.


I wasn't quick enough to photograph the hares, so have a picture of the tall grass instead. They are in there somewhere.