The weather did not look particularly promising for our next foray along the Northumberland coast. However, as soon as we arrived at Bamburgh Dunes, and heard the melodious pipe and bubble of a curfew of curlew flying over us, we knew that it was going to be a good day, and it wasn’t long before the sun decided to make an appearance.
The dunes are quite extensive here and it took us some time to weave our way down to the beach. When we reached it, it was deserted – although there were a myriad of foot and paw prints already scattered across the sand – we were not the first visitors that morning!
Bamburgh Castle looked resplendent as it towered above us in the early morning sunshine. It sits astride the Great Whin Sill and looks far out to sea. With such a powerful vantage point it is not surprising that there has been some kind of stronghold here for well over fourteen hundred years.
The Great Whin Sill is a huge slab of volcanic rock which was extruded from the centre of the Earth over 250 million years ago, at a time when the earth was undergoing extreme tectonic activity.
At that time, searingly hot molten rock was pushed upwards but, instead of erupting at the surface like a volcano, it forced its way in between the existing layers of limestone, shale and sandstone.
The sill is made of dolerite, known locally as whinstone and, in some places, it is over 50 metres thick. It covers a huge part of northeast England and extends from Teesside in the south, right up to Holy Island, and westwards all of the way to the Pennine escarpment.
Dolerite is a very hard rock which erodes very slowly, and, over time, it yields a rather shallow soil which is rich in lime. The plants that grow here love this alkaline soil and when the growing season starts, there will be drifts of frothy, onion-scented wild garlic, maiden pinks and rock roses to enjoy.
We continued along the beach until we reached a small burn and here, we rejoined the coastal path and walked along a road which seemed very busy for such a remote place. Bruno and I seemed to be forever dodging cars. Soon we discovered why - the road led to yet another golf club.
We entered the grounds of the golf course and followed special marker posts that we hoped would keep us safe from low flying golf balls. Despite the cars, the greens were completely empty, and we trotted on hoping that we could find a path back down on to the beach. However, below us, the waves were crashing against another craggy promontory and, one of the rocks had a small white stag painted on to its vertical surface. Julie had heard that Stag Point (as it is called) is a good place to see the birds but, although we could hear them, we could not see any of them today.
We walked on - eager to get our first glimpse of Budle Bay. As soon as it came into view, we took the first path through the scrub and sand dunes down to the beach. The tide was a very long way out and there were extensive mud flats and sand banks upon which sat a myriad of wading birds, chortling ducks and honking geese. They were too far away to get a clear view of any of them, but a flotilla of black and white male eider obligingly swam past. There was a sinuous deeper water channel in the middle of the bay weaving its way far out to sea.
It is such a peaceful and serene place and, today, it forms part of the Lindisfarne National Nature Reserve (NNR) which is celebrated as a haven for a tremendous biodiversity of wildlife. It is hard to believe that back in the thirteenth century this was a very busy port, and it served a highly successful corn mill at Waren Mill!
Naturally, I couldn’t resist a quick splish splash in the water closest to me – the sand was soft and slippery between my paws as I clambered out again. The beach itself boasted soft golden sand which was interspersed with slicks of shiny black coal dust which glistened in the sun.
We could hear the throb of traffic close by, so we knew that the road wasn’t far away, and we decided to retrace our steps back to Bamburgh. The tides had retreated even further so we stayed on the beach and made our way in front of a barnacle encrusted harbour wall which was also smothered in shiny black limpets. As we rounded the corner there were many more dogs and humans on the beach. The sand was smooth and golden but soon it was once again interrupted with dark grey rocky pavements and sea sculpted coal boulders where a collection of birds were busily foraging.
On the dunes above we could see the silhouettes of several cattle grazing peacefully – we hadn’t noticed them on our outward journey.
We left the beach and followed a path through mini hedgerows of tall, bleached marram but at our paws rosettes of other dune plants were starting to reveal themselves – and this ‘come-back’ is due entirely to those cattle. By chomping through the taller grasses, the cattle have given these smaller plants a fighting chance to survive.
We retraced our steps past Stag Rock and eventually our paws found the beach again. The castle was magnificent in the afternoon sunshine, and we dodged the other dogs and their humans as we trotted off in search of the sea – Bruno was determined to get his paddle.
And then it was time to slowly wind our way back through the dune grasses to find the car. Despite being as quiet as we could, we still managed to startle an unsuspecting snipe which was hiding in the dunes.
It felt good to reach the car – time for a snack, a quick drink of water – and then, what’s next?
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