Blustry days in Bournemouth

The southern edge of Storm Desmond grazed Dorset yesterday, drawing in strong southwesterlies that raised tides and waves all along the coast.  It also stayed unseasonably warm, additionally drawing surfers and stormwatchers together along the piers.

   

I think the waves were running about a meter, with spray and foam running higher.  Paddling into position was difficult.  But every now and again someone would catch a swell heroically, to the delight of the huddled onlookers.

‘could have been a lovely sailing day…

Grey skies in morning

Back in the sloppy, wet UK: frost on the roofs and scaffolds against Woodside’s backside.  The drip through the roof had turned into a three-bucket stream in my absence as weather fronts rolled in from the southwest.

 

The weather warmed with each successive wave of rain, though, and so I took a wander along the coast east of Christchurch to Mudeford Bay.

I found a satisfying surge of surf washing over the seawall, submerging the tires of the stormwatchers huddled in their cars.  At least one boat already lay overturned in the harbour. 

A lone fisherman stood among the rocks of the outer breakwall, waves breaking over his boots in a white froth.

 

It all gets much more interesting when put into motion, of course.

High tides

I really do promise to get off of the weather topic – art and philosophy by the weekend…

The Economist published a story about the rising rivers throughout the area: I live in the vicinity of Poole (fortunately on a third-floor apartment) but the whole area up to the Thames has been affected.  Since I’m usually traversing the Bournemouth / Southampton / Reading motorways towards the northeast, I’ve been passing through the teeth of it ever since the holidays.

It’s may be time for the British to take a more Dutch attitude to rising waters (that from the Guardian, not the Dutch…)

A high tide and wind-driven waves brought Poole Harbour up into the Sandbanks Beach community today.  They had to mount sandbags around the local Tesco; a neighbor said that they had knee-deep water in their apartment.  When the sea receded, the pathways had washed out, boats had washed up, and businesses along the spit were digging out.

  

It’s been an amazing run of weather – finally starting to get warmer, but not yet drier.

Rain, wind, rain

It probably sounds like I’m bleating on about the weather this month, all of the past week, but it’s both unusual and dominant. The FT notes that England, and particularly the south-coastal areas and the Thames, haven’t seen this much cumulative rain in 250 years.  My own travels to London, Cambridge, and Munich have been beset with disruptive gale winds, deep pools of standing water on the motorways, and trees fallen across key rail and bus lines.

But, mostly, it’s just been amazing to live near the sea and watch the changing character of the waves and tides.  The waves lapping over the seawalls, the blowing sand, the frothy white chop out to the horizon, the magnificent clouds blowing in from the south, have filled every drive along  Shore Road with memorable scenes.

  

The wind brought out wind- and kite-surfers even as it sank several boats in the usually-sheltered harbour.   Storm-watchers gather over coffee and cakes in the Beach Café and huddle in cars near the chain ferry to watch the weather sweep in.   Couples venture out onto rock jetties to show their courage before scampering back ahead of crashing waves.

  

Friends tell me that Maastricht is dusted with snow; Carnivale is three weeks away and, hopefully, spring is not far beyond.  But there’s a month of winter yet to come.

Exciting times, even without the business adventures.

Between storms

The sun came out in Sandbanks today: the kitesurfers took to the water and the Jazz Café filled with sunbunnies.  It could almost have been summer (and I was really ready for a sail!). 

But a closer look showed the swimmers covered with drysuits; the diners bundled in overcoats.  Cars lined the beach near the Chain Ferry, each with a couple or family eating lunch insulated against the cold.

    

There were lots of walkers along the beaches, evenly split between hand-holding couples and solitary folks with pets.  Children tumbled down sandpiles left  by the bulldozers that clean the promenade each morning.  The men inspected a huge channel buoy that had broken loose and washed up overnight.

  

Squally, thundery, Gale Force Nine… warned the Met Office.  A huge low-pressure system, another “once in 100 years” storm was bearing down on the coast.  For the next 48 hours, winds up to 90 mph and torrential rains were forecast.

Again.

Last night I drove down from Cambridge in driving rain at midnight: huge puddles of standing water on the M3 at Bournemouth that were thrown across the motorway from the opposing side.  The two-hour backup on the Orbital was almost a respite  (accompanied by an annoying interview with writer Anna Holmes, claiming that men act kindly only to exercise a “benevolent superiority” over women and to gain competitive advantage over other men).

Anyway, the storm blew itself out and today went well: knotty problems were solved, there was time for chatting up friends, completing accounts, an hour’s exercise and read, setting up two working groups, and a good walk in the wind and sun.

And, from Branscomb Beach at sunset, the forecast next gale was literally in view as it surged over the Isle of Wight.

 

More stormy days

The Devon village of Dawlish got hammered by high tides and wind-driven waves today, breaking down the seawall protecting the harbour and destroying a segment of a main rail line into Cornwall.  Similar seas were felt along the Jurassic Coast and Sandbanks was no exception.  The maps show the storm hitting our coast pretty much square on, and the wind and rain absolutely lashed the house all day today.

 

I drove down from the North yesterday afternoon, and the skies grew darker and the winds rose as I dropped south of London on the M3.  I stopped at the Café as I arrived to get a look at the beaches, the sand was already drifting along the promenade and waves were breaking hard against the jetty.

By this evening, the surf was high and foamy as far out as I could see.  Stretches of the beach were blocked off for safety, and huge breakers were cascading white along the length of the shoreline.

Its all fun and exciting, although I know there will be a big cleanup afterward.  Again.  We had branches down and flooding along Shore Road at the end of the street, really nothing too bad.  (Try your brakes, advised the signage.)

More heavy weather is expected throughout the weekend, great news when I have a flight to Germany late Saturday night.

It may just be a good evening to lie in, instead.