Pett Level to Rye Harbour 7th January 2019
We arrive at Pett Level and find a parking space. However, Betty is not satisfied with my car positioning – it seems she is not keen on standing in a puddle. Problem corrected we set off along the top of the seawall.
On the far side is a large storm beach, which rises several metres from the current sea level. The pebbles vary in size from pea-shingle to quite large cobbles. In fact it is no-longer really a natural beach, being largely the result of human intervention, with the beach built up into an embankment to prevent inundation from the sea.
Pebbles occur naturally along this coastline – most originating from the flint inclusions in the chalk geology adjacent to the English Channel. As the chalk cliffs and seabed erode, the lumps of hard Flint are left behind. These are rolled around by waves and tidal Currents, making them smooth and rounded.
The whole of the Dungeness foreland has been formed from these pebbles accumulating naturally, as the action of the sea gathers them together. This has been going on for several thousands of years.
As we walk along it is evident that the pebbles at the Pett Level end of the beach are being removed eastward by the action of the sea – a process known as longshore drift. Little fresh material is coming from further west, perhaps because the seaside towns of Hastings, Bexhill and Eastbourne have spent a couple of centuries holding onto their beach material.
I can see a convoy of six trucks ferrying pebbles from Rye Harbour nature reserve at the far end and dumping them at ours, whereupon a large bulldozer forms the pebbles into an acceptable beach profile.
This process repeats every 30 minutes or so, with perhaps 15 journeys per day. That’s approximately 100 truckloads per day. I suspect each carries about 10 tons – so 1000 tons per day throughout the winter months. The process halts once the summer weather arrives, as it is not considered safe to operate heavy machinery when the number of tourists increases.
I suspect they move in the region of 100,000 tons each winter, reversing the longshore drift that naturally moves the pebbles from West to East along this part of the English Channel. It’s a never ending sysiphean process. All we puny humans can hope to achieve is to temporarily reverse the relentless action of the sea. Failure to do-so would inevitably lead to invasion of the Pett Levels by the sea.
A few huindred yards further along the beach we get into conversation with an officer of the Environment Agency who is overseeing the bulldozing of a stretch of beach, on which pebbles are actually accumulating rather than being removed.
“He is pushing the pebbles into the sea”, he explains – indicating in the direction of the bulldozer driver, “in expectation of them eventually being carried away and deposited at the mouth of the River Rother”.
The irony is that the pebbles are actually not wanted here, but will join the masses perpetually accumulating at the Rye end, in readiness for the convoy of trucks to return them back to the westernmost, undernourished end of the beach at Pett Level – from whence they came some years earlier.
It all seems a bit bizarre, but apparently it is the safest option available – considering the risk to large numbers of visitors, from being crushed under the bulldozers mighty tracks.
Winchelsea Beach – a sea of pebbles accumulated over hundreds of years
As we move away from Pett Level to Winchelsea Beach, large gabions of block like steel caging – packed full of pebbles – have been erected at the back of the beach on its landward edge. The beach looks well established here, with the pebbles on its crest being colonized by Sea Kale and other salt tolerant plants. The placing of the gabions suggests that the beach here is increasingly liable to inundation from the sea, with the risk of the adjacent road being swamped with pebbles.
The plants of the upper beach are adapted to living here, where the wind off the sea is laden with salt and where they are occasionally covered by salt water. What rain water falls, quickly drains down through the pebbles. However, many of the plants here have long tap roots, helping them to access the groundwater perhaps several metres below the surface. Typically plants in exposed coastal habitats have thick cuticles to protect the leaves from drying out, whilst small hairs also reduce the impact of the drying wind. Add to this the shifting nature of the substrate and the risk of being smothered by tons of pebbles, and you can but admire their resilience.
As we arrive at Winchelsea Beach we get a foretaste of what to expect further east, especially on Dungeness itself. What gardens people have at Winchelsea Beach appeared to be more moonscape than landscape, dominated by pebbles, merely permitting the growth of lichens and perhaps the odd Hawthorn shrub.
Further along, we discover that some areas of Rye Harbour Nature Reserve do offer grass suitable for sheep grazing, but I suspect they have to work fairly hard to add any weight to their bodies.
The Mary Stanford Lifeboat Station surrounded by the pebbles of former storm beaches
Midway through the nature reserve we come across an abandoned barn-like building. This was the Mary Stanford lifeboat station. From here in 1928, the Lifeboat Mary Stanford was launched in order to save the crew of the steamer Alice of Riga. Launched in 18 mile per hour winds, with nothing but a sail and oars, the lifeboat capsized and 17 men on-board perished. This was almost the whole of the male fishing population.
By the time we reach the mouth of the River Rother it is evidently lunchtime. The convoy of truck drivers have paused in their ant-like procession across Rye Bay, leaving the sea to continue its work uninterrupted. Further, my stomach is suggesting that a cup of tea with a piece of cake is called for.
Return-shore Drift – Pebble moving lorries pause for lunch
Midway between the mouth of the Rother and Ryer Harbour is the site of the proposed Discovery Centre – to be run by Sussex Wildlife Trust. The old bungalow that was formerly used as a visitors centre is awaiting demolition and all concerned await its replaced by a state-of-the-art building. It was hoped that construction would have commenced by now, but almost inevitably there have been delays. I was involved in some of the planning and funding application work, including an application for EU funding. Brexit obviously puts such projects in jeopardy.
Rye Harbour Nature Reserve – a rare landscape of pebbles and excavated ponds
At Rye Harbour we home-in on the Bosun’s Cabin, where we order hot drinks and the long anticipated piece of cake. The quality of the provender and pleasant conversation with the owner make this a most satisfying interlude – one we shall certainly repeat in the future.
Our return to the car takes us back further inland, on the northern boundary of Rye Harbour Nature Reserve. Our return walk is actually along one of many former coastlines. Great expanses of pebbles, from previous depositions by the sea, are inter-leaved with large bodies of freshwater – where tons of flint pebbles have been extracted for the construction industry.
This has long been a site focused on defence of the realm. Set well inland is Camber Castle, built by Henry VIII in the 16th century. At Rye Harbour itself sits a Martello Tower built in 1806 to repel invaders during the Napoleonic War, whilst at the mouth of the Rother are pill-boxes built during the Second World War. All three defensive structures defended the then coastline, which since the 16th century has moved steadily southward,` as fresh pebble material has been deposited by the sea. Camber Castle is now over a mile from the coast.
Camber Castle – marks the 16th century coastline – one mile inland
Leaving Rye Harbour Nature Reserve we complete our journey, by following another defensive construction, the Royal Military Canal, to its westernmost extent at Pett Level.