It is popular at this time of year for people to make resolutions, many of which tend to involve giving up something. A few years ago I read that it is better and easier to make a promise to do something rather than to NOT do something. For example “spend more time in nature” instead of “spend less time inside”.

Now, instead of making New Year’s resolutions, I write a list of mini adventures I would like to go on in the coming year. Some past adventures I have listed include climbing a tree, snorkelling at a new beach or having a picnic on Dartmoor. This year however I have set myself a challenge; To visit every beach in the South Hams. There are approximately 60 beaches that look to be accessible from the land or along the shore and so I will start with them.

I decided to start in an area that I am familiar with: Start Bay. I have visited Slapton Sands in many different locations over the years that I have worked or volunteered at the field centre, but I have only once been right to the northern tip of the beach at Strete Gate. That occasion was back in 2006, when I was asked to complete a sea kale survey whilst volunteering at the field centre in my university holidays. This involved walking the entire length of the beach, something that I have not deemed necessary to repeat! However I did think that another visit to the far north was in order so off I set to Strete Gate.

On my way to kick start this beach visiting challenge, I was thinking about what I might see and that it is the unexpected things that give us the greatest awe. Literally the next second whilst I was passing the duckery at Torcross and I saw a moorhen in a tree. Something I have never seen before.

Setting out along the top of Strete Gate beach, I followed the path that meanders around the back of a large area of vegetated shingle. This rare habitat of wild flowers which will be awash with colour in the summer, stood dormant with stalks and seed heads providing some structural beauty instead. These dead stems may seem lifeless, but they provide shelter for many creatures seeking refuge during the winter, creatures such as ladybirds over winter this way.

I set about on a colour hunt to find as many different natural colours as I could and despite the winter season there were plenty to be found. It wasn’t long before I ticked off pink when I spotted some campion in flower, followed by the yellows and reds of some bramble leaves. Vibrant orange of stinking iris seeds were almost luminous through the otherwise brown and green scene and when I sat down for a rest the first thing I spotted was a mussel shell vivid in its blues and purples.

The cliffs that line the back of the beach were coated in ivy, wild clematis and brambles, all of which seem to be dangling like curtains from the cliffs as well as attempting to creep over the beach. The sea rarely reaches this high on this beach, so a range of plants have successfully established communities. Where I had sat down, I observed the tiniest seedling sprouting from the bare shingle. As I was not sure what this tiny plant was, I thought I would enlist my “trusty” plant ID app to help; inputting the photo and waiting for it to tell me the result. To my surprize it informed me that it was cannabis. I don’t think so! I didn’t need an app to know it wasn’t that! Scrolling down the list, something more likely, was mouse eared chickweed.

Not too far away, I spotted the hairy stems of vipers bugloss, umbelliferous seed heads of the sea carrot and fresh bluey green fresh leaves of the yellow horned poppy. Where bushes and trees had made their way out on to the beach, dunnocks and robins twittered as they hopped around the undergrowth.

As I made my way further along the beach, the cliffs changed from being wooded to bare slate. As the craggy cliffs opened up there was much less vegetation, and hardy gorse took over from holme oak. There were many signs warning of danger and I could see why as there were lots of rock falls and slabs of rock balancing precariously, so I steered myself out of range.

To be Continued.