Barton on Sea 9 Jan 2023 11:45
Storm at Barton on Sea
Much of the New Forest's four hundred square miles remains sparsely populated. Within its boundary is a scattering of homesteads and farmsteads blending almost invisibly into the ancient landscape, mostly homes of true locals, the New Forest commoners. There are a mere handful of small towns and villages, chocolate-box tourist traps. The houses there are so ferociously expensive that it feels like only commuters with high-power, highly-paid jobs in London and millionaires can afford to live there.
Instead, most of the local population live in the towns that fringe the forest's edge; Lymington, Hythe, Marchwood, Milford on Sea, and Barton on Sea among them. Here, life follows a different rhythm. In place of the farming and land-based occupations one might expect, residents lead normal suburban lives, their connection to the forest often one of recreation only, of a green haven on their doorstep. For many, the ancient woodlands and heaths are no more than a backdrop to their daily commute as they drive from home in one fringe town to work in another or to one of the cities close by, Southampton or Bournemouth.
Barton on Sea, perched atop cliffs and exposed to the elements on the southwest coast of the forest, faces the full force of westerlies from the English Channel. The cliffs bear the marks of a losing battle with erosion, an onslaught that appears to be quickening with storms feeling more frequent now, the waves crashing against the cliffs with a ferocity that alludes to a changing climate. Consequently, the cliffs are crumbling and retreating at an alarming rate, leaving properties teetering on the brink and forcing the authorities to scramble to enact erosion mitigation strategies.
This dramatic landscape has become a living classroom. During term time there seems to be a revolving door of school parties, armed with clipboards and eager curiosity, crawling over the cliffs and beach, studying the erosion, measuring the relentless march of the sea. Their youthful energy on these fleeting but welcome days out of the classroom contrasts with the relentless ancient forces at play, a reminder that the future of this landscape rests in their hands.
Wave photography is very giving. Switch your shutter to burst and spend an hour machine-gunning each promising wave as it rolls and then crashes onto the shingle and you will have a keeper by the end of your visit. Short shutter speeds for frozen-droplet action, as in this photo, or longer shutter speeds for a more ethereal but active blur effect. Either way, it’s a bracing break in the day that mercifully doesn’t rely on an early predawn rise to chase the perfect light.
So, behind this simple photo of a crashing wave, there's a deeper hidden story of constant change in the face of forces of destruction, reminding us that although there is beauty easily found in the waves that roll onto the southern margin of the New Forest, there should also be a call to action, particularly for those schoolchildren, to further their geography and science studies to better understand and protect these vulnerable landscapes. If we fail, the waves will wash away not just the cliffs, but all the memories and history perched above them.
Photo details - Olympus OMD EM5ii, Lumix-Leica DG 100-400, 100mm(equiv) f9 ISO400, Processen Lightroom macOS
Instead, most of the local population live in the towns that fringe the forest's edge; Lymington, Hythe, Marchwood, Milford on Sea, and Barton on Sea among them. Here, life follows a different rhythm. In place of the farming and land-based occupations one might expect, residents lead normal suburban lives, their connection to the forest often one of recreation only, of a green haven on their doorstep. For many, the ancient woodlands and heaths are no more than a backdrop to their daily commute as they drive from home in one fringe town to work in another or to one of the cities close by, Southampton or Bournemouth.
Barton on Sea, perched atop cliffs and exposed to the elements on the southwest coast of the forest, faces the full force of westerlies from the English Channel. The cliffs bear the marks of a losing battle with erosion, an onslaught that appears to be quickening with storms feeling more frequent now, the waves crashing against the cliffs with a ferocity that alludes to a changing climate. Consequently, the cliffs are crumbling and retreating at an alarming rate, leaving properties teetering on the brink and forcing the authorities to scramble to enact erosion mitigation strategies.
This dramatic landscape has become a living classroom. During term time there seems to be a revolving door of school parties, armed with clipboards and eager curiosity, crawling over the cliffs and beach, studying the erosion, measuring the relentless march of the sea. Their youthful energy on these fleeting but welcome days out of the classroom contrasts with the relentless ancient forces at play, a reminder that the future of this landscape rests in their hands.
Wave photography is very giving. Switch your shutter to burst and spend an hour machine-gunning each promising wave as it rolls and then crashes onto the shingle and you will have a keeper by the end of your visit. Short shutter speeds for frozen-droplet action, as in this photo, or longer shutter speeds for a more ethereal but active blur effect. Either way, it’s a bracing break in the day that mercifully doesn’t rely on an early predawn rise to chase the perfect light.
So, behind this simple photo of a crashing wave, there's a deeper hidden story of constant change in the face of forces of destruction, reminding us that although there is beauty easily found in the waves that roll onto the southern margin of the New Forest, there should also be a call to action, particularly for those schoolchildren, to further their geography and science studies to better understand and protect these vulnerable landscapes. If we fail, the waves will wash away not just the cliffs, but all the memories and history perched above them.
Photo details - Olympus OMD EM5ii, Lumix-Leica DG 100-400, 100mm(equiv) f9 ISO400, Processen Lightroom macOS