Waterlog Reswum

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“As the tide receded, Camber was all sand–pools, lagoons and impromptu sand rivers snaking to the tideline…The sea, brown with churned sand, was marginally warmer than at Dungeness, but still cold.” The pop of rifle fire crackles over the never–ending breeze as we cycle past the MOD firing range and back towards Camber. The bike ride to Dungeness had been fun, if a touch blustery, but this is pure torture. In low… Read More

“Thirty feet below the raised beach, down a steep bank of pebbles, this stretch of the English channel looked calm but a long way off, like water at the bottom of a well. I clattered down several tiers of stones and, quite alone in the mist, dived out into deep water.” My Medway failure was frustrating and has left me desperate to make the most of the last of the summer’s good… Read More