A Daughter of Nyx

Summer roses climbing walls and dogs jumping waves. The sunshine and breeze felt like gossamer on my skin on that late August day as we stepped onto the sands of Barmston Beach.

Situated on Yorkshire’s East Coast between Bridlington to the north and Hull to the south, Barmston Beach is a wide expanse of sand with a story to tell. If you ever take a trip here, see if you can spot some of the surprises that greeted us. It is like having your own little beach-combing treasure hunt.

First of all, snap a picture paddling in the North Sea that laps this coastline. You will notice that it is murky and brown ~ it is, in fact, like this all year round, very different from the clearer waters of the Cornish or Sussex beaches fed by the English Channel and Atlantic Ocean. I wondered at the difference of this and turned to the internet for answers. It turns out that the UK stands on what is known as a continental shelf ~ “a relatively shallow area between Europe, Scandinavia, and the British Isles”. Thus, it is much easier for the sediment which sits along the bottom of the seabed ~ brown, gritty sediment from the brown and grey rocks and cliffs that inhabit this part of the coastline and often erode into the sea ~ to be stirred up into the water and rise much higher to the surface than where the ocean is deeper, such as the Atlantic that feeds the Cornish Coast.

As I watched my mum holding her shorts above the waves with her skin bared to the still-cold waters, it reminded me of watching my Nana doing the same when I was a young girl when we made our yearly summer trip to Cornwall and Par Beach. As a family, we have always been the ones to roll up our trousers and wade into the sea in any season, just being around the salty water gives us a deep sense of belonging.

As we paddled out of the North Sea shallows, we realised we had gone much further down the beach than we thought (so often the case when you are having fun, but this used to really disorientate and worry me as a child), but it was here that we came across the second clue in our beach comb ~ these humpback seaweedy blocks of concrete.

They looked like they had been there forever and I remembered vaguely that they had been present on many beaches I visited as a child and had just accepted them as something washed up by the ocean in a strangely straight line. With adult eyes, I realised that this could not possibly be the case, and my interest was piqued. Thankfully, someone has created an online resource describing their use for posterity. It reads; ‘During World War Two, the low-lying coastline from Bridlington to Barmston was extensively prepared for resisting enemy invasion. Anti-tank blocks were placed at the foot of dunes or the cliff to form a continuous line, with pillboxes and other structures positioned behind’.

Indeed, the anti-tank blocks led us directly to our next discovery ~ the real-life ruin of a 1940s war-time pillbox, so-called apparently because they resembled the characteristic red pillar boxes or postboxes here in the UK through whose slotted opening one could post letters… although of course the opening of the wartime pillboxes was to fire guns through, as ‘pillboxes were not observation posts, but were designed to protect British troops firing at the invading force and were manned by regular troops’.

‘Manned by regular troops’… I thought about this ~ of this pillbox when it was a new pristine concrete block with a gun pointing out of it towards the ocean. I thought of the young lad, a trooper, stationed inside of it, in the dead of night, the summer air that my mum and I were breathing now he would have breathed too as he did his duty for his country. Did he wonder at the peaceful waters, the heady scent of harmony and fertility of England in Summer? Nature told him all was well and yet… there was a very real threat of manmade invasion, for which he must be stationed on this beach alone. He lights a cigarette furtively for something to do. No matter, his relief partner would be there soon…

The dogs paddled around the ruin at our feet, completely unaware of its history and use, or perhaps their instinct told them any threat was long gone, and my mum and I played around taking pictures of each other through the windows that once looked out for lights from German ships out there in the murky North Sea… During my foray into Barmston’s wartime story, I came across this informative online exhibition, East Riding at War, made possible by a dedicated volunteer from nearby Skidby for East Riding Museums. In the section entitled Coastal Defences, they write: “In the end, Britain was not invaded, but all that had been put in place seemed to be a deterrent. At the end of the war, all the defences were dismantled…The beaches were cleared and paths made through the maze of barbed wire”. Traps were still about, but “still one must not complain as at least one could wander along the shore, swim or sunbathe”.

And so, the wheels of history turn again and Barmston is on to a new chapter of its story. Towering impressively behind the beach are several white wind turbines, turning sedately in the North Sea wind blowing inland from the ocean. Set up in August 2016, the wind farm site initially faced opposition from local residents, and safety concerns regarding transporting these massive structures across the Humber Bridge at Hull meant that they had to take ‘a circuitous 100-mile journey to avoid this route and arrive safely at Fraisthorpe’. However, the site has proved economically and environmentally sound, with its management stating: “The wind farm provides enough electricity to power over 22,500 homes and stops over 48,000 tonnes (53,000 tons) of carbon dioxide gas from entering the environment. The wind farm is anticipated to generate electricity for 25 years”. Personally, I have always thought wind farms beautiful, so, Treasure Hunt Task No.3 ~ collect a picture of these gentle giants.

As we turned for home, I spotted this souvenir from nearby farmland, standing out conspicuously from its seaside surroundings. Although the most noticeable modern-day additions to the bay are the many caravan holiday parks that have sprung up along its shore, the beach itself backs directly onto neighbouring working farmland. Barmston is in fact “mentioned in the Domesday Book as having eight ploughlands and belonging to Drogo of la Beuvrière”, which all sounds very Games of Thrones-y to me. See if you can spot any evidence of this beach’s agricultural location when you visit yourself.

When I got back to the car that day, I grabbed my notebook and scribbled down this short poem ~ of a woman, planted with sturdy legs gazing out at the ocean, unperturbed by the dogs and children barking and yelling around her, with the wise look of knowing in her eyes. As if, on seeing the Sea, she was saying, ‘I have returned home’. Perhaps you will be inspired to write your own poem one day on something or someone you see at Barmston Bay.

Sea Witch

She stood impervious

With hounds that were not hers 

Milling around her feet,

Staring eyes fastened on the waves,

Hair caught in the breeze,

Looking out to Sea.

She seemed like a Sea Witch to me,

The calm, solid Elder Sea Witch that one day I would like to be…

In Love&Light, FS XOX