Brean Down

The limestone on the cliff faces shows its strata at steep angles, the rock layers tilted where the geology was compressed. Up close, the cliff reveals cave openings where the water has worked into weaknesses in the stone, moss-covered surfaces with deep striations, the face weathered into columns in places — sheer and dark against the Channel light. From sea level, looking up, the scale is considerable: cliff rising above rocky foreshore, the stratified layers telling the whole story of the deposition if you have the patience to read it.

The tidal flats below the headland hold their own record. Deep channels carved through exposed sand, the pattern of the tide's work in fine detail. Wet sand with erosion markings. The Channel mud is particular — its brown-grey extending across the flats toward the Welsh coast, which sits as a dark line on the horizon under storm clouds.

Flat Holm island is visible from the path — a silhouette across the water with walkers in the foreground descending the hillside path. The Victorian pier at what I assume is Weston-super-Mare extends into dark calm water beneath a brooding sky, seen from the Down's eastern approach.

A family on the grey stone beach, two adults and a child, the scale of the shingle and the cottages behind them. The Down behind. The Channel beyond that, and across the Channel, the industrial waterfront with cranes — Cardiff, or the Severn estuary's south bank, unclear from this distance.

A steep stone path cuts down through bare winter woodland toward the water. The wood is sparse, the path clear, the destination visible before you reach it.