Bosham to Southbourne 22nd July 2021

1:25000 map of Bosham/Chidham

It is the 22nd July 2021 and we are belatedly kicking-off the 2021 ‘Legging’ season, thanks to Covid.  Today we do the section from Bosham to Southbourne, returning to Bosham Station by train.

Last night we parked the caravan at Sidlesham (not far from Selsey), where we had the joy of discovering a non-functioning fridge full of perishable food.  Fortunately this was sorted out by Betty using our gas alternative.  These may not be the problems the well-heeled walker faces when he checks into a B&B each evening, but we wouldn’t have it any other way.  The caravan works for us.

By 10:30am we have arrived at Bosham Station. Our drive from the caravan site takes only 20-minutes.  We have worked out from Bettys’ grandfather’s sketch book, that he got off the train on his day-out here in 1900. I imagine in his day the best way of getting to the town was also by walking, or perhaps some sort of pony and trap arrangement – doubtless following the same route that we are currently walking.  It’s evocative stuff this walking in the footsteps of ancestors.

Bettys’ Grandfather

Inevitably our walk into Bosham involves discussing what it must have been like 120 years ago and we soon find ourselves in the village, with its sprinkling of thatched properties. We know her grandfather sketched at least one thatched property in Bosham, but we have yet to find it – assuming it still exists today. 

It was here that legend says the Danish King Canute sat on a chair surrounded by his courtiers and commanded the waves to go back.  He got his feet wet instead – not a difficult thing to achieve in Bosham, which often engulfs cars at high tide.  Watch out for future sea level rising!

Canute must have grown tired of Bosham, when another mishap occurred in the town.  His eight year old daughter was drowned in the Brook Stream and is buried in Bosham Church 

In 1064, the future King of England, Harold II sailed from Bosham to negotiate with William of Normandy.  Two years later William returned to take the crown from him.  Bosham even appears on the Bayeux Tapestry.

On reaching the village we turn off right along a back road which leads to the coast, with the intention of follow the coast path north. A passing couple stop us to warn that the tide is high and we may not be able to get through. We thank them for their concern but we still have to observe the lovely view from this part of the village. 

As we arrive at Bosham Channel this offshoot of Chichester Harbour fills our field of view. Certainly worth painting if you are an artist down from London for the day, or just a couple of ancestor worshippers walking in the footsteps of history.  At low tide there is little water, mainly mud flats and salt marsh vegetation, but the current high tide gives a quite different perspective.  The smell of rotting seaweed is almost as distinctly seaside as the view in front of us.

High Tide at Bosham

Our walk northward is obstructed by several centimetres of high tide and an obstructive landowner.

Despite the warning given to us, the coast path does look passable so we decide to give it a shot.  However, we don’t get far before it becomes evident that the route is actually blocked by high water.  Fortunately we’re able to take a cross path back to our original route and then up past a number of houses which back onto the creek.  Just past the last of these impressively proportioned properties, we enter a field of maize, beyond which the footpath rejoins the coast.

A little further along, the official footpath irritatingly veers away North to cross the A 259, before returning a little further along the coast.  This time our luck is in, as we take advantage of an impromptu path beaten by many others also wishing to stick to the coast rather than the official landward detour.  The route is well marked sandwiched between Saltmarsh on our left and arable land to our right. Hopefully her majesty won’t mind us walking on her property.

Sea lavender

Common Poppy

Mats of filamentous green algae

Masses of filamentous algae crowd the shoreline here, forming a floating mat of pale green slime.  Chichester Harbour must be full of the stuff, reproducing happily in the warm water and gathering here thanks to a combination of high tide and a southerly wind.  The salt marsh is dominated in places by sea blight, a name suggesting it was not universally popular, which grows alongside the abundant purple flowered sea lavender, which probably was.  It’s pretty little purple flowers are everywhere at this time of year, although the plant lacks the aromatic smell of its terrestrial counterpart.

This is an excellent, sheltered spot for a father to launch a paddle-board, ably assisted by a small child.  Doubtless Sir Ben Ainsley and countless other famous British seafarers started their careers here in the sheltered waters of Chichester Harbour.

Father and child hone paddleboarding skills

The A259 is only a metre or so above high water.

At the main road our passage becomes legal once again as we turn westward along the coast path.  At this point the map says NTL which means it’s the normal tide limit, however there is actually only  a metre or so between extreme high tide and the road level, so unless it is elevated one day, the normal tide limit will extend well across the A259 later this century

We tend not to think of swans as saltwater birds, but they don’t mind a bit of sodium chloride with their veg.  Twenty nine of these large, white, majestic birds are paddling effortlessly about the creek, pausing to thrust their long, graceful necks into the brine as they dine-out on the slippery green algae on the bottom.

A Flock of Swans Dabble in the Creek

We are now on the Chidham Peninsular which offers a public right of way around its entire coast to Southbourne.  As we pass, one of the many fields of market garden produce that grow so well in the fertile soils of the area, I look enviously at a field of cabbages, not one of which appears to show any signs of Cabbage-white infestation.  Why is this when mine have been ravaged?  I suspect they are well sprayed with something that will one day be banned.  Either that, or they have found a way to genetically modify the plants to be distasteful to the yellow and black caterpillars which munch their way through my own brassicas.  I feel a tinge of envy, but will continue to stick with whatever organic methods I can. 

A Field of Pristine Cabbages, but unlikely to be Organic

Beyond is a large field of corgette plants.  We pause in our surveying of the local vegetable produce to chat with three sun bronzed vegetable pickers pushing a wheelbarrow towards us.  The oldest of them, a man in his 50s, is obviously overseeing the work of his young charges as he picks suitable corgettes from the massed ranks of plants.

I ask “Are you picking for the supermarkets?  To which he answers,”yes.” 

I retort “I hope you have got the right size for the fussy British supermarket customers.”

To this he responds with a smile. “Always.”

I relate that we walked in this area last year and the fields were full of discarded marrows. 

“Shocking waste I know,” he admits, “but what can you do?”

We live in a society where cheap food is considered some sort of totem, but then we refuse to consume anything that looks out of the ordinary.  How can wasted food possibly lead to cheaper food?  Urbanisation removes us so much from nature that we have an aversion for the natural variation of the food grown by farmers.

Sea Wall elevated by pinning concrete bags on top.

At Chidham the sea wall has been elevated.  Here someone has improvised in their fight against sea level rising, by pinning concrete bags on top of each other, with giant rebar staples.

At Chidham the footpath takes us up a private drive, where a sign points out “No cycling full stop”.  Good job we are not cycling today then!  It is an estate of pleasant houses, with neatly trimmed lawns and regular signs advising us to stay on the road.  De-rigeur for a part of the world where there appears to be a constant battle between tourists and landowners.

Beyond this estate we get views across to Bosham.  This may have been the position from which Bettys’ grandfather sketched the church.  At this point we are about 400 metres across the channel from Bosham, but the voices of people there sound like they are only 100 metres away, such is the clarity of sound carried on the wind across the channel. 

Bosham Church from Chidham

Close-up of Bosham Church from Chidham

That same inshore breeze is most refreshing on a sweltering day, although its effect quickly diminishes whenever we go perhaps 100 metres inland or behind trees.  Fortunately the path mostly stays close to the cooling sea.

A little egret skulks in the wetland behind the sea wall, whilst the squawks of black headed gulls fills the air.

A shy Little Egret looking for food.

We pass four young people trying to push a small sailing boat off the Saltmarsh.  I suspect they are beginners carried over from Bosham by the stiff breeze.  They don’t appear to have the nowse to lower the sail to make their lives easier.  Perhaps that’s the next week’s lesson!

Five minutes later we encounter yet another sailing casualty.  This time a paddle-boarder.  I ask him if he needs help and he explains that he drifted onto the shore and stepped off his board thinking to push off.  Much to his surprise he found he was up to his knees in “quick sand” – mud to you and me.  Extricating himself he discovered the mud had claimed one of his sandals.  The poor man was clueless.

  Sandal-less Paddleboarder washed up on a desert island

Further south the coast path route has to detour around a camp site and activity centre run by Christian Youth Enterprises.  Perhaps this is the source of our hapless sailors? This time it is me that suffers a minor catastrophe, when I discover that I have lost my hat.  This is one item of clothing my balding pate requires in this intense sunshine, so I have to retrace my steps searching for it.  Not surprisingly it turns up in my pocket!  What can you do?  Canute found tide waited for no-man, but I’ve discovered that time behaves likewise – advancing years!

Between here and Cobnor Point is Cobnor Nature Reserve.  This was created in 1988 and includes a disabled access path which takes us alongside a shallow inlet which floods at high tide.  It is alive with sharks – well dog fish to be precise.  As the water floods out, so they take the same journey back into Chichester Harbour.  It is great viewing standing on the bridge overlooking the outlfall watching the distinctive pectoral fins of these small sharks as they pass beneath.

At Cobham Point we decide to take a break for lunch, not least because we can use the shade cast by a number of gnarled old oaks.  Interestingly these appear to be the last remnants of potentially ancient woodland that existed here, with Butcher’s Broom, an ancient woodland indicator species growing in amongst them.

A metre high wooden post has been positioned with a notice on top inviting walkers to take a photo from it and to share it on-line via Chichester Harbour Conservancy.  This is a clever way of recording coastal changes over time, using the free labour and equipment provided by members of the public.

Cobham Nature Reserve Photo Post  

Cobham Point and the last remnants of ancient woodland

We settle down to have our packed lunches, only to find that we’re too hot to eat, so we just rest and have a long drink of water. 

A walker and his wife pass, both in their 70s.  He spots me pouring over my map and can’t resist a jibe at my expense.

“I assume you are not lost? Ha ha” He jokes.

Alas it is one of those jokes you hear too often, especially from older people who think they are in the know.  It is almost a cliché that when someone is reading a map,  they are obviously lost. Interestingly enough, maps are not just for finding your way, they are an incredible resource telling you about the local landscape and its history.  I could spend hours just staring at a map and imagining all sorts of comings and goings, landscape changes and the general geography of an area.  But I am a bit of a nerd.

Rested, revived and rehydrated we get to our feet and press on due north-west.  Just around the corner the coast is evidently eroding, despite the relative shelter provided by Chichester Harbour.  The soft sediment of the Chidham Peninsular is easy prey to even relatively small waves at high tide.  However, when the wind is from the south the waves are probably significantly stronger – coming directly from the open sea.  As a result numerous oaks are in the process of destruction as the waves remove sediment and soil and bathe their roots in salt water.

Chichester Harbour eroding coastline and dying oaks

Further along we encounter a bird hide erected in memory of Joan Edom, one of those priceless volunteer conservationists who dedicate their lives to the protection of  local wildlife.  Her friends have evidently gone to great lengths to detail her legacy, with a vast array of information provided about the local wildlife.

Joan Edom’s Bird Hide overlooking Chichester Harbour

I am generally a fair reader of an OS map, but somehow we find ourselves following the sea wall along a well trodden path 100 metres inland from the coast.  Either the intervening land has been recently reclaimed, or is to be abandoned, with the sea allowed to wash this new defensive structure at some stage in the near future.

Since our primary aim is to walk the current coastline, we decide to leg-it across the intervening field and rejoin the public right of way at the top of the beach.  On reaching it we find a fairly ragged looking sea wall which is obviously subjected to heavy wave action.  I suspect the coast here is in retreat.

A makeshift seawall of concrete bags looks very temporary

The more substantial seawall further inland, cloaked in a mantle of rip-rap on its seaward side.

As we pass Chidham Point I encounter a short, fat man in a polo shirt sitting upon an upturned bucket and dragging on a fag.  Next to him is a bicycle lying on its side.  I immediately think of Marcelo Bielsa, the current manager of Leeds United, but quickly realise this is a mere facimile of the great man. 

“Bit hot.” I comment.

“It is,” he retorts looking at my oversized rucksac, “especially if you are carrying one of those on your back.”

I laugh.  Then realising he might have local knowledge, I decide to do a bit of fishing for information in preparation for our proposed cycle ride around Thorney Island tomorrow.

“Can you cycle round Thorney Island?”

“No.  You have to get permission at the gate, or they shoot you!  Military.”  He comments rather seriously.

That’s that idea binned for tomorrow then.  I thank him, with Betty and I contining to plod along with a welcome fresh breeze now coming from the south.  

As we approach Prinsted I notice two fishermen, dressed in waders, paddling in the shallows.  I don’t think I have ever seen sea fishermen adopting this fishing technique anywhere else on our travels.  Usually they are on the beach with long lines cast well out to sea, or maybe in boats, their rods dangling overboard.  Perhaps it is a local method linked to the strange nature of local waters.  I’ll have to watch-out for it in future.

We had planned to walk all the way to Emsworth today, but with the relentless heat of the July sun, unabated by any sign of clouds in the sky, we are gradually going off that idea.  Prinsted looks the perfect place to finish a hot sweaty walk.  We can walk round Thorney Island tomorrow.

The older part of Prinsted, nearest the sea, is all thatched cottages.  Very pretty and charming, and doubtless very expensive to own.  On reaching the busy A259, Prinstead gives way to Southborne, an altogether more modern commuter town with its own station.  Here I suspect many of the locals catch trains each morning to places like Portsmouth, Havant, Chichester, Brighton and even London.  For us however, an ice-cream and a £5 ticket to Bosham will do quite nicely.