Sauntering 210. The Arnside Tide

Home Preamble Index Areas Hills Lakes Dales Map References Me Drakkar

Saunterings: Walking in North-West England

Saunterings is a set of reflections based upon walks around the counties of Cumbria, Lancashire and North Yorkshire in North-West England (as defined in the Preamble). Here is a list of all Saunterings so far.
If you'd like to give a comment, correction or update (all are very welcome) or to be notified by email when a new item is posted - please send an email to johnselfdrakkar@gmail.com.

210. The Arnside Tide

A siren sounded. On a bright, still and silent September morning, with the River Kent spread out and gliding languorously around mudflats in the wide estuary, the siren seemed incongruously mournful. But nobody was alarmed. In fact, most people were glad to hear the siren because it meant that what they had come to see was on its way. The siren is to warn anyone out on the estuary or close by its banks to move quickly to higher ground.

The Kent estuary and Kent Viaduct

Eyes turned to the west, to where the river enters Morecambe Bay. Were there white wave tops on the river? Were the birds moving away from approaching water? Were the mudflats disappearing? Soon there was no doubt. The wave at the head of the tide was coming. It was only a small wave – nowhere near large enough for surfers or canoeists – but it moved fast. With a gentle rippling sound, it swept over the mud and approached the Kent Viaduct. Here, the tide’s speed and force was clear as it splashed up the viaduct supports, creating turbulence under and beyond the bridge. Cumbria Fire and Rescue Service took the opportunity to practise by manoeuvring their boat back and forth in the rapids at the bridge.

The tidal 'wave' approaching the viaduct

High tide was forecast to reach ten metres, although it would, of course, be less than that at Arnside. It is such a mesmerising sight, even though it is entirely predictable and has happened twice daily for millennia, that one feels obliged to watch until high tide is reached. Inch by inch the water rises up the viaduct supports. The mudflats that previously occupied so much of the estuary that you could imagine walking across (but, of course, you can’t because you’d be certain to become stuck in the mud) slowly disappeared. The bank near where we sat, which previously had seemed far from the water, eventually had water lapping at the grassy edges.

The Kent estuary at high tide

It is strangely satisfying just sitting and watching the tide come in. There is no excitement but a steady inevitability to the process. Perhaps it’s because it’s fundamentally reassuring that it all happens precisely as predicted. We have upset so many natural processes that it’s a relief that one, at least, still happens as it always has. It would take something really ‘ambitious’ to upset the Arnside tide – such as a barrier across Morecambe Bay, as is proposed every decade or so.

When the tide reached its highest point and the estuary was full from bank to bank we continued our stroll through Arnside, after partaking of luncheon. Arnside is something of a resort but there isn’t enough space to be much of one. It cannot aspire to be a seaside resort since it would be an exaggeration to describe all this water, although salty, as the sea. There is no beach for children, and nowhere safe for them to paddle. Arnside is more of a resort for the elderly visitor, content with the views of the estuary, the changing tides, and an amble alongside the estuary or even up to Arnside Knott.

The promenade is too short and narrow for all the cars that want to use it in the holiday season and the shops are a mixture of those you’d find in any small town and those catering for visitors, of which there are probably more than the shop-owners would have expected. Beyond the shops there’s a line of grand tall houses, presumably all for visitors.

Arnside

We continued on the path by the river (or sea) edge, passing the Coastguard Station, responsible for the siren, but the path soon became slippery and muddy where the tide had overflowed and, further on, some of it was still under water. We had no ambitions to walk far, so we returned for an ice-cream, while watching the water slowly ebb away.

The flow tide and the ebb tide are not symmetrical. While the inward flow is somewhat dramatic, with a clear leading edge, the ebb tide occurs with no flourish. The water itself, calm at high tide, does not appear to change but you notice that it has dropped an inch or two down the bank – and in due course (we didn’t linger that long) the mudflats will reappear.

Perhaps the appeal of tides lies in an analogy with life itself – how we sweep in, full of energy, determined to reach our highest potential, and then subside, at first imperceptibly, to then fade away. But nobody’s life proceeds as smoothly as a tide.

It is, in fact, an ancient belief in some cultures, traceable back to the Greeks, that life begins and ends with in-coming and out-going tides, respectively. This belief is apparent in the demise of Mr Barkis, who drove David Copperfield around in his cart:

    “He's a-going out with the tide,” said Mr. Peggotty to me, behind his hand.
    My eyes were dim, and so were Mr. Peggotty's; but I repeated in a whisper, “With the tide?”
    “People can’t die, along the coast,” said Mr. Peggotty, “except when the tide’s pretty nigh out. They can’t be born, unless it’s pretty nigh in – not properly born, till flood. He’s a-going out with the tide. It’s ebb at half-arter three, slack water half an hour. If he lives till it turns, he’ll hold his own till past the flood, and go out with the next tide.”
    ...
    Mr Peggotty touched me, and whispered with much awe and reverence, “They are both a-going out fast.”
    ...
    And, it being low water, he went out with the tide.

Not wanting to end on such a sad note, I tried to find examples in literature of an association between childbirth and incoming tides – but I couldn't find any. Sadly, scientific analysis has found no correlation between births/deaths and tides rising/falling. Why would anyone think otherwise? Those ancient beliefs arose before we had a theory of gravitation to explain that the moon is largely responsible for our tides. There are plenty of people today who believe that the moon affects us in various ways.

    Date: September 19th 2024
    Start: SD472794, near Carr Bank Garden Centre  (Map: OL7)
    Route: SW – car park (for blue badge holders only) – SW on embankment – Arnside railway station – SW through Arnside to somewhere below Grubbins Wood – and back
    Distance: 4 miles;   Ascent: 20 metres

The two following items:
     212.   The Moor the Merrier
     211.   Bigland: Hall, Tarn, Heights, Barrow, Allotment and Woods
The two preceding items:
     209.   From Orrest Head to Ambleside
     208.   Trials on Clougha
Two nearby items:
     134.   North and South in the Arnside and Silverdale AONB
         4.   In a Flap at Bolton-le-Sands
A list of all items so far:
               Saunterings

Home Preamble Index Areas Hills Lakes Dales Map References Me Drakkar

Top photo: Rainbow over Kisdon in Swaledale; Bottom photo: Ullswater