COASTAL DISCOVERY
This month William Thomson explores the unique qualities of headlands and peninsulas – spectacular, next-to-nature places that support rich marine ecosystems and command the utmost respect from experienced sailors
William Thomson continues his series on the geographical features of our coastline with a look at headlands
Before we started exploring the coast on our sailing boat Luna, the primary method of travel for the Thomson tribe was by campervan – and our van must have been to nearly every headland around Britain. Before venturing to a new region, I would scour the maps and pinpoint places where the land projected out to sea, making sure we went there. Why?
Because at headlands everything is intensified – the tides, currents, winds and waves are all more dramatic at a ‘cape’. The sky feels bigger, the sea looks wilder and the horizon stretches further away. The sea views are the best you will experience short of climbing the mast of a boat, and a headland gives you a feeling of being out in the ocean in a way no other part of the coastline can (apart from a pier). But while there are no piers
I know that you park a van on, we could easily take our camper to the end of a peninsula and enjoy a night of wild camping, surrounded by water on almost all sides and falling asleep to the sound of wind howling and waves crashing. Best of all, we could do all this without risking the wrath of the sea.
For dangers there are. Of all the coastlines around Britain, its headlands have the greatest concentration of dangerous features. I learnt this the hard way during a nerve-wracking afternoon sailing Luna around St Albans Head, just around the corner from Poole in Dorset. An underwater reef extending out to sea creates deadly overfalls (steep breaking waves) that you must avoid by either taking an inshore passage within 50m of the shore, or staying at least three nautical miles offshore. I opted for the latter, planning for us to pass three-anda-half miles off the headland, just to be safe. But still, after a lumpy ride from the Isle of Wight in choppy seas, I was horrified to see a wall of whitewater stretching ahead as we passed due south of St Albans Head. With the powerful currents and 20-knot wind pushing us westwards, there was nothing we could do to escape the danger. It was little consolation that the squiggly lines indicating overfalls were well to our north, or that we were over a mile south of the reef and its scattering of shipwreck signs. I thought positioning us that extra bit offshore was enough to clear the danger. But I was wrong.
In the seconds we had before hitting the chaotic whitewater, I quickly furled the genoa (big sail at the front) to reduce our speed. The mainsail had two reefs in (it was about 50% its normal size)
and our engine was idling to help in case it was needed. Thankfully, the kids were safely asleep in the saloon, mildly seasick after what was already a rough ride. But the waters off that headland were on another level. One moment we were high up on the crest of a steep wave, then we were deep in its trough, surrounded by overhanging crests breaking from all angles. My consolation was that this was only the edge of the overfalls, and that the wind and currents would soon push us through them. And sure enough, in a matter of minutes we were out of the steep breaking waves. That night, as we calmed our nerves with a strong beverage in a yachtsman’s pub in Weymouth, I spotted a sign over the window quoting ‘a smooth sea never made a skilled sailor’. It made me feel happier about the experience while I reflected on the vital lesson of the day; give headlands a very, very wide berth.
‘Currents get funnelled down the upstream side and eddies form on the downstream side’
SEAS THE POWER
As we have discovered in this feature, the topography of a peninsula accelerates the elements along its side, culminating in a dramatic display of tides, waves, winds and currents at its tip. However, what we have not explored – so far – is that swept along in the currents is plankton, the foundation of the marine food chain. Just like the elements, plankton is concentrated at headlands and this results in an extremely rich ecosystem that sets off what is essentially a feeding frenzy. All levels of the food chain are attracted to the feast, from simple fish to sophisticated apex predators like the orca, or killer whale. Many people are surprised to discover that these phenomenal creatures, measuring six metres long and weighing over 4,000kg, can be spotted from the UK coast. But it is true, and the best place to see them is from a headland on the north-west of Scotland.
The photograph opposite is of one of Scotland’s most famous orcas, John Coe, who has been regularly spotted from Tiumpan Head on the Isle of Lewis. When it comes to whale-watching, headlands have the double advantage of creating an environment where orcas thrive and providing a safe place for people to watch them. Binoculars are essential if you do decide to perch on the end of the promontory; my favourite pair is made by Konus (top) and was sold to me on the recommendation that the cross-channel ferry captains use them, so they should be good enough for me. They are, and priced at less than £100 they are fantastic value for money. But if you have a larger budget then the Nikon (middle) binoculars are highly regarded for whalewatching. Stepping up a notch again, the Canon pair (below) has image stabilisation, which is perfect for counteracting the gentle rocking of a boat if you want to experience the orcas in their element. The best way to do this is on a trip with Hebridean Whale Cruises, whose team took the photograph of John Coe and have expert knowledge of the local waters and those orcas that call it home.