My favourite beach at Lyme Regis is the capricious East Cliff, visible only at low tide. The best way to reach it is down a 114-step walkway.
The path drops through rough scrub, a feral mix of wild plants and garden escapes, sizzling with grasshoppers. Buddleia flourishes next to sallow bushes, hazel and gorse. Sour blackberries are already reddening among the brambles and somewhere in the tangle, a stonechat calls. The sound, like two dry pebbles clicked together, echoes the faint tap of fossil hammers audible from the beach below.
