The sea is still roaring after yesterday’s storm, with waves crashing harder than I’ve ever seen. The water churns up sand, turning grey-green and frothing against the dark rocks, each wave bursting like a geyser as it hits the land.
Here at Cullernose Point, the dramatic dolerite cliffs of the Whin Sill jut out into the sea. The scene is even more breathtaking today—the wind bites, and the air is filled with salty spray.
As I walk the coastal path, I’m briefly sheltered by twisted sycamores and hawthorns. Their branches are alive with lime-green lichens. Scattered flowers bloom on the gorse, alongside dead grasses and spiky brambles. You can even spot the frazzled seedheads of last year’s knapweed mixed with the remains of hogweed.
Venturing out, I get a fantastic view of the bay’s geology. The lower foreshore shows whaleback folds of limestone and sandstone, gently arching like ancient ruins. Rising above them are the massive hexagonal columns of the Whin Sill. This fascinating landscape formed 295 million years ago when tectonic forces pushed molten magma into older rock layers.
At Cullernose Point, these columns and fractured planes create ledges perfect for nesting seabirds. I spot a few fulmars, small white dots against the rugged cliffs. They’ll soon be joined by kittiwakes returning from their winter at sea. Their calls will fill the air, adding melody to the Northumberland coast and even reaching Newcastle.
Right now, the fulmars circle overhead, expertly gliding on the strong winds. My hands feel numb from the cold, but the thrill of being up here on the cliff is indescribable. It’s as if I’m flying alongside the birds.
Interestingly, a recent survey showed that wildlife along the northern coasts has rebounded over the past few decades, thanks to conservation efforts. More seabirds are returning to their nesting sites, a positive sign for our coastlines. As we engage with these natural wonders, we must remain committed to protecting them for future generations.
Source link
