We wanted a place to let Dog do his doggy stuff and headed for a small hamlet called Covehithe. It has some eponymous cliffs and a stretch of lovely sand so, well, why not.
First there’s the ruined church of St Andrew, redolent of mystery tales and ghost stories – well it was until Dog decided to christen Martin Jolly (1813 to 1864) while I was setting up a rather arty shot. Never work with dogs…
Leaving the church rather more quickly that we intended we scuttled past some snorting pigs – this part of Suffolk is Pig heaven – Big Sow Country if you like – and headed for the beach.
Southwold, to the South, loomed out of the mist.
There are reed beds aplenty hereabouts. The seas runs across shingle banks and creates brackish lakes that are nirvana for migrating wildfowl and bird life generally.
Once over the lip of the marshland though the wind really announced its presence – as you’ll hear in this video clip.
I managed to capture Dog in mid flight – what has distracted him I wonder?
One of the things this stretch is well known for is the fallen trees from the cliffs that erode further to the south and wash up here.
Apparently the land around Covehithe has eroded by 500 metres between 1830 and 2001. They are sometimes made into informal sculptures…
…. and sometimes they are left to rot away.
Signs warn you to take care.
Indeed by now the incoming tide was making itself as present as the wind so we about turned and headed for the car and coffee and cake. Always welcome after a stroll.