You could walk directly from our park to the beach down a steep hill. We were welcomed to the start of the hill by a murder or multiple murders of crows making a right racket. I think they were nesting or at least shouting at each other trying to decide who would get the best girl.
|Testament to the weather, the beach cafe on the hill down to the beach was closed.|
|Bempton Cliffs are in the distance here. Apparently puffins live there but we didn't go and look.|
One of the surprising things (to us) about this stretch of land is that the cliffs are made of a soft kind of mud, sand duney material (that is an actual word, I don't care that there's a red squiggly line under it) rather than rock, like further up the coast. As a result there is significant erosion and houses are literally falling into the sea. The one below was buttressed up by corrugated iron and scaffolding poles but was clearly fighting a losing battle. Its inhabitants must have long moved out. I spent the walk along the beach thinking about how awful it would be to find yourself in that situation. You can't get insurance for that. You can't sell that house so how can you buy another one? Rent? Sure, but you've lost thousands of pounds. What if the inhabitants rented it? Well someone owns it, so someone's lost (hundreds) of thousands of pounds.
|Someone drew a picture of Chewie in the sand. It wasn't us.|
|Gloomy, innit. But also epic.|
|Was pleased to find this amazing sculpture by the same artist as the one of the fisherman in Scarborough, just up the coast.|
|This view was infinitely more impressive in real life.|
|Wreck of Laura|
|Filey Brigg in the distance there.|
|Through rose tinted glasses.|