The naturalist
Steve Backshall – Sandaig Bay, Scotland
“Sandaig Bay on the Knoydart peninsula is incredibly wild. It can only be accessed by a kayak or by walking about 5km [three miles]. I’ve camped there and had it completely to myself.
It has remarkable white-yellow sands, leading down to some of the clearest and coldest seas that you’ll find in the nation. You look across the straits out to the Cuillin hills on Skye, and behind you you’ve got the towering peaks of Knoydart – gargantuan mountains that drop straight down to the loch.
I like walking along the strandline, picking up old driftwood to carefully make a wildfire later, or collecting mussels and brown seaweed for a freshly foraged meal. You can even fish for mackerel or pollack, or free dive for scallops.
The loch itself is utter paradise. Even in stormy weather, the waters are glassy, flat and peaceful. Porpoises, dolphins and otters pop up alongside your kayak – the closest and best otter experience I’ve ever had in this country was on those black, calm waters. And a short paddle away is the Old Forge at Inverie, the best pub in the world, where I’ve had some of the best nights of my life. You can only get to it by sailing, paddling or walking.
Afterwards, I’ll sit around a campfire, talking nonsense with friends, and because the bay is so far north, in summer the daylight seems to last forever. But I’ve even paddled there in the middle of winter, when it’s freezing, because then you get the northern lights, and the aurora crackling over the sky at night is beyond fabulous.
It is a place that can seem too exotic, too perfect, too far away from other human beings to be real.”
Steve Backshall’s Ocean tours the UK from 19 October–3 November. For tickets, please visit stevebackshall.com
The yoga teacher
Helen Wilson – Swansea Bay, Wales
“I teach what is thought to be the largest outdoor yoga class in Europe on Swansea Bay. Every time I go there to teach a class, I see the pleasure and the calmness that it brings to others.
It’s hard to appreciate just how wonderful it is to practise yoga on a beach until you’ve done it on Swansea Bay, looking out over to the Mumbles as the sun starts to go down. There is something about the bay that encapsulates the calmness and tranquility that nature can bring us – even though it is an urban beach, linked to the city.
When you practise yoga, you try to stay in the present moment, and practising on that beautiful beach gives me and my students a unique opportunity to connect with our senses – to look out at the horizon, notice the reflection of the clouds in the water, feel the sea breeze and the sand beneath our feet, smell the saltwater. After the session, some of us will go into the sea for a swim or a paddle, so we end the class by connecting with the sea and feeling the water on our skin.
It’s a sensory experience which is so enriching, compared to practising yoga within the four walls of an urban studio.
My students and I often get into a meditative state, for example, by focusing on the sound of the waves breaking. Being out in the big open space of the beach generally makes people less self conscious as well – the ocean and the wide expanse of the bay brings a sense of freedom and possibility. It allows me to quickly disconnect from the troubles of the outside world. When I’m practising yoga there, I very quickly feel a release from the pressures and strains of my everyday life. And it gives me a sense of joy and peace.”
Helen Wilson is the founder of Womankind Yoga, which runs regular yoga classes on Swansea Bay. www.womankindyoga.com
The writer
Michael Morpurgo – Rushy Bay, Bryher, Isles of Scilly
“I’ve been going to the Isles of Scilly every summer for more than 50 years. Rushy Bay is very beautiful and very private, with the whitest, finest sand of any beach I’ve ever seen, and it is usually empty. If you find anyone on it, they’re probably lost.
The bay stretches out in a wonderful wide curve between rocks at each end, and about half a mile out to sea there’s an uninhabited island called Samson Island. It’s an extraordinary place, where people lived for hundreds of years. But in the 19th century, everyone had to leave because the well dried up. It’s an island of ghosts, really, now.
It’s wonderful to sit there on the sand, with the grassy dunes rising up behind you, protecting you from the wind, and look out across the blue-green sound at one of the great views of the world, full of ancient history.
During a raging storm, the sea – which is freezing – powers in from the Atlantic and looks as if it’s going to sink the island, it’s so fierce. And the next day, it will be as calm as you like.
I write by hand in school exercise books and I have sat on that beach many times and written stories. Even the rocks on that beach have got stories to tell. There are probably more wrecks around Scilly than anywhere else in the world, because it’s right at the entrance to the Channel. Sailors for centuries have sailed too close: get on the wrong side of the wind at Rushy Bay, and nothing will stop you getting blown on to the rocks.
It’s a very good place for collecting cowrie shells, for talking and walking, and for paddling in the sea with grandchildren. I often go there in the morning, read or write, and make the first footprints in the sand, listening for the sounds of the oystercatchers tinkling in the air before they land in twos and threes on the shoreline to fish. And so, whenever I think of the island, that sound comes into my mind, and I hear again the song of the Isles of Scilly: the song of the oystercatcher.”
Finding Alfie by Michael Morpurgo is out now and The National Theatre’s acclaimed production of War Horse returns to the stage in a UK tour this September
The walker
Anita Sethi – North Landing Beach, Yorkshire coast
“I discovered North Landing beach quite by chance after hiking along the Yorkshire coast from Scarborough. I was exhausted when I arrived, and this beach – with all its amazing wildlife – was so reviving. It’s near RSPB Bempton Cliffs nature reserve. There are seals and a seabird colony – I will never forget hearing the different birds singing as they swooped around the enormous Flamborough cliffs, and seeing a puffin for the first time, I felt an almost childlike delight. There was a sense of being an adventurer, of discovering somewhere wild and free.
It’s off the beaten track and quite unknown. You can hike from North Landing Beach to Thornwick Bay, which is full of smugglers’ caves – caves which you can actually walk through. Along the way, you’ll see bright hotspots of moss and lichen set off against the stones, and wildflowers growing on the cliffside. You’ll sense the movements of the Earth spinning, you’ll see the changes in the sky and the landscape from hour to hour, you’ll see the ebb and flow of the sea, the pull of the moon, the sun rising or sinking in the sky. And you’ll gain a sense of perspective about your place in the universe.
I grew up in a city and being close to wildlife and birds – so close you can hear their wings flap – it makes me feel connected with life, with nature. It brings back a primal sense of astonishment, that I exist, on this amazing planet, with all these extraordinary creatures.
I think it’s important to experience that restorative power of nature, and to understand that if we don’t care for the sea, if we keep destroying our planet and putting plastic and pollution in the ocean, we won’t have that respite any more. We won’t be able to experience that restoration. And it will be heartbreaking.”
Anita Sethi is a nature writer and author of I Belong Here: a Journey Along the Backbone of Britain. www.anitasethi.com
The forager
Jayson Byles – Catterline Bay, Scotland
“My favourite beach is Catterline Bay on the north-east coast of Scotland. It has a diverse, rocky terrain, which means you can forage many different types of seaweed there in different seasons. For example, dulse, a red, smoky, salty seaweed whose nickname is bacon of the sea, and winged kelp – or dabberlocks, as it is known in Scotland – a brown seaweed, which is super versatile and very high in naturally occurring monosodium glutamate (MSG). That means you can use it to wrap other food and it will enhance the flavour of whatever you’re cooking. I’ve also found coastal plants like sea rocket there, growing wild.
It’s a very atmospheric beach. All you can see when you look out is the ocean. When I’m there, I feel as if I’m out in the wild, like I’m the only human who’s ever been there. I’ll go to forage – and snack on – seaweed in the evening at low tide, then stay to watch the sunset.
My relationship with the sea is very nurturing. It provides for me and helps me put food on the table, and so I try to reciprocate by sharing my knowledge of foraging with others. I want people to fall in love with the sea and take care of it.
A lot of my heritage is Polynesian, from the Pacific Islands, and people who know me say I have saltwater in my veins. If I’m away from the sea for too long, I get withdrawal symptoms. I feel this craving to go and smell the sea.
Catterline Bay is on the North Sea. But every time I put my foot in the water, I feel connected to the Pacific, I feel connected to my home.”
Jayson Byles runs seawood foraging and cooking workshops for schools and individuals via www.EastNeukSeaweed.com
The surfer
Alys Barton – Llangennith Beach, Wales
“I grew up surfing at Llangennith Beach – I caught my first wave here when I was 13. Now I’m the European, British and English Surfing Champion and I feel very lucky to have the waves at Llangennith on my doorstep. It offers the most consistent break on the Gower peninsula – it’s like a playground for surfers, there are always waves there, and they can range from really small to very big, because it gets a lot of swell from the ocean.
I do most of my training there and my favourite time to surf is sunset. On Llangennith, the sun sets right in front of you, as you’re looking out to sea. The beach is super sandy, but it also gets lots of little rocks, because there’s a massive tide here. It’s spacious – there’s a huge amount of beach to walk on – and at sunset, it’s peaceful and quiet.
As a surfer, I have learned to appreciate the power and unpredictability of the sea. It can be a frustrating place for me, but it can also be liberating, being in an environment that I can’t control. When I’m out there on my board, I can let go of everything, and just enjoy it. And then I feel very lucky that I have the opportunity to do something so exhilarating and exciting, every day, in such a beautiful place.”
• This article was amended on 26 June 2024. An earlier version said that Sandaig Bay, on the Knoydart peninsula, was where the author Gavin Maxwell lived with his pet otters; Maxwell actually lived in a different Sandaig, about nine miles up the coast, and this reference was removed.
