With summer drawing to a close, at least as marked by the long school holiday, the seaside draws many to enjoy the last few days of sun and sand. I’m also part of this throng, though the evidence elsewhere on this blog proves that I’m not simply a fair weather visitor.
Bouncing from coast to coast as my work takes me west and my home returns me to the east, I’ve left the Irish Sea behind for today’s post and returned to the North Sea, this time on the North Yorkshire coast.
Just a short distance short of Whitby, the town made famous by Bram Stoker and now home to Goth festivals, fish and chips galore, and a smattering of jewellers specialising in the jet which is washed up on these shores, is a small village called Sandsend. Village is perhaps a misnomer, for this was originally nothing more than two rows of dwellings overlooking the shore, separated by a small beck flowing into the sea.
The local alum works led to its growth, and though that no longer provides the demand, Sandsend’s setting makes it one of the most expensive places to buy property in the county, but no matter how costly the cottages and houses, enjoying the beach requires little sophistication.
Ingenuity was on display however. Digging and damming water channels to irrigate sand castle moats is commonplace, but here people were working on a larger scale. By slowing the flow of East Row Beck a small reservoir was created, and so Sandsend had both paddling pool and boating lake to add to its attractions.
Not my usual coastal subject matter, but a short walk to the north (where the sand does indeed end) provided both interesting geology as well as more colourful possibilities, and by virtue of having J with me, one of my rare appearances from behind the lens. Well we can all enjoy the sun and sand can’t we?