A short walk after the storm
Porthtowan to Chapel Porth, Cornwall
It’s a windy old day out on the cliff behind our house.
But with gusts of 30mph, it’s not half – or quarter – as windy as it was a week ago.
Then, during the worst of Storm Darragh, apparently it topped 110mph over there (gestures vaguely westwards) at St Ives.
Our little home is tucked into the side of a valley and this cliff was our friend during the storm, deflecting the worst of the north-westerly wind up and over our roof.
From indoors, the weather didn’t seem particularly out of the ordinary for our North Cornwall spot. But down in the village, a phone line came down, part of the beachside bar’s roof came off and sea foam slopped all the way up the slipway.
The cliff may have taken the brunt, but our faithful friend has seen it all – and worse – before and there’s little sign of the storm a week on. A strand of seaweed and a wide-open mussel shell – although I don’t know whether it was the wind or a bird that picked up and deposited them.
Like a good coastal visitor, Darragh has left only footprints here. The sole firm evidence that he passed through is the pattern of the grass, flattened in ripples like the waves reached land and decided to keep going.
Our house is so sheltered that it’s often a surprise to emerge onto the cliff and be greeted by the sort of wind that grabs your hood and slaps you round the chops with it if you dare to look over your shoulder.
Today is one of those days. But for once I’ve remembered to bring my binoculars so I’m damn sure I’m going to sit out here and use them for a bit.
I’m perched on the rocky outcrop above Chapel Porth beach, scanning the sea to see what I can see.
A couple of great black-backed gulls. A shagorant1 flying right to left. A gannet flying left to right.
I track the gannet as far as my body, tensed against the mizzle and breeze, let’s me. Then another tags in and I pick up its path from right to left.
It’s always worth tracking a gannet, with its expansive white wings that appear to have been dipped in melted 70% cocoa dark chocolate.
If you’re lucky there will be a plunging2 and the thrilling sight of them tucking those chocolate-tipped wings and slipping into a spearing dive below the water.
Feeding gannets are often accompanied by other things worth looking at – maybe seals or dolphins. Perhaps even, if you’re really, unbelievably lucky, a whale.
I am, of course, not really, unbelievably lucky. It’s time to head back to shelter.
Basking sharks seen on this walk: 0
Total basking sharks seen to date: 0
Shag/cormorant, really can’t tell from this distance.
One of those pleasing birdy collective nouns. You could also have a company or a gannetry of gannets.
Lovely. And lovely photo!