Ruth Livingstone
My book: Walking the English Coast
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Winfield’s Award
Killer Cows: Cattle Safety
Normal route, same cows – this time was dangerous
Report Number: 1315Date: 29/09/26Location: South Mundham at the bottom of Fisher Lane, West SussexGroup of black and white cattle, single walker with dog on lead Alice’s Report: “As I was walking on the path towards the exit of the field the cows were a fair distance from me. I have walked this route many times […]
3 incidents – Different counties, different cattle, with and without dog
Each report below details a moment when walkers proceeding along public footpaths were confronted by cattle. Each must be regarded as a near miss as any close encounter can cause awful injuries. Nicky dropped the lead when the bullocks charged and they ran after the dog allowing her to escape unharmed. Matt was chased by […]
Rachel and crew saved by horses
Report: 1310 Date: 04/09/26 Location: Mount Pleasant, Upton Cheyney, Nr Bristol Cows with calves in the field Small group of walkers with dog on lead Rachel’s Report: “We walked past the cows ( around 30-50) on the footpath slowly, taking a wide birth around them. When we were about 10 metres past them they started […]
Author Archives: Ruth Livingstone
53. Seaford to Brighton
I start walking from lovely Seaford, see a Wheatear in an abandoned village, take a detour through Newhaven, walk across crumbling cliffs, pass through the unusual town of Peacehaven, cross the Greenwich Meridian line and arrive, tired and grumpy, in Brighton. Continue reading
52. Eastbourne to Seaford
Shivers go up and down my spine. Here, along the crumbling cliff edge, are tributes to people who have died. There are bunches of flowers and little crosses – 5 or 6 little memorials. They are sited where the path comes very close to the edge of the cliff. Beachy Head is a magnet for the sad and desperate; 530 feet above the sea – the 3rd most popular place in the world for suicides. Continue reading
51. Bexhill to Eastbourne
Between Bexhill and Eastbourne, I meet herring gulls, comorants and an egret. The heavens open but lightning fails to strike me down. I pass 6 Martello Towers in various stages of redevelopment and decay. Eastbourne is surprisingly attractive and its pier looks lovely in the evening light. Continue reading
50. Hastings to Bexhill
What a sad sight this pier is! Burnt buildings, roofless wrecks, timbers showing, seagulls perching on shattered planking – a blackened and rusting structure. Warning signs advise people to stay away and not to walk beneath.
Continue reading
49. Rye Harbour to Hastings
There is a naturist beach at Fairlight Cove – although access to the beach is deterred due to the dangers posed by erosion. There are great fossils to be found here. And dinosaurs’ footprints. Sadly, I see no fossils, no dinosaur footprints and no nudists. But I do have a great walk and manage to pursuade my husband not to break his neck.
48. Lydd to Rye to Rye Harbour
When I walk in, people stare at me. I wonder if they are looking at my boots, my jaunty little rucksack, or admiring my general air of health and wellbeing. After a very good lemon curd bun, I visit the loo and find out, by looking in the mirror, that my hair is sticking up on end and covered in sand. I look like a wild woman. Continue reading
47. Dungeness to Lydd
Buffeted by wind, and fighting for a foothold on the shingle, I continue onwards – disoriented and uneasy. I have the dangerous firing range on one side. A nuclear power plant on the other. A howling gale blowing behind me. And ahead is a protected nature reserve. Continue reading
Stage 46. Hythe to Lydd-on-Sea
I come across a warning sign.
“Caution non-ionising radiation. Do not loiter within 2 metres of any antenna.” I look back at the mast where I have just spent 10 minutes of ‘loitering’. A bit late to tell me now!
Continue reading
Stage 45 Dover to Folkestone to Hythe
This is the best day of walking, ever. I start from Dover seafront. Looking out, across the little beach, through the mouth of the harbour, I can see the outline of France. It is clear and close. You could sail across and be there is a few minutes, or so it seems.
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Stage 44. St Margaret’s to Dover
The ‘path’ turns out to consist of footholds in a grassy bank. There is nowhere to rest. The slope is too steep to sit down. I am scrambling on all fours – looking for footholds and hand holds. The steep drop below, and the glimpses of bright sea even further below, add to a vertiginous sense of anxiety. I am reminded of skiing and that black slope moment of terror when you realise that you don’t want to go on, but you know you can’t stop.
