Helpless before the froth and foam

On Brighton Beach - 

A man stands alone, apart, upon a sea wall

Waiting for what, he does not recall

For the majesty of nature to touch his spirit?

For long-forgotten memories to stir his soul?

For the largest wave to take him to the deep?

Time has wrought him older than his age

For what, for why has it brought him to this stage

As well-worn as the stones beneath his feet

As troubled as the worried waters in his view  

As wise and foolish as each imagined quest 

And does this ocean prospect halt his pinings

Bring him answers, cut short the longings?

Still fixed he is, a rock among the restless

Still as thoughtless as a mighty gale

Still ever helpless before the froth and foam

Loop-the-loop

The loop-the-loop Turbo Coaster at Brighton Palace Pier - opened in 1996 - is getting on, nearly 30 years old. Originally named Zyklon, the ride’s name was soon changed after concerns were raised by Jewish groups regarding the historical connotations of the term. Since then, Turbo has become a well-recognised part of Brighton Beach’s entertainment offerings - despite a checkered history of maintenance issues and reports of rider discomfort.

Turbo’s compact steel track - a Pinfari ZL42  - runs for 365 meters, rising to a height of 11 meters. The ride (max 12 riders) lasts only one and a quarter minutes, but, most dramatically, it features a vertical loop.

Some enthusiasts consider Turbo one of the less enjoyable roller-coasters in the UK.  According to ThemeParkJames, for example, in common with many Pinfaris, Turbo is ‘a bit rough and ready’, and ‘feels a bit graceless as it charges around the track’. It adds, ‘the over the shoulder restraints can induce some shoulder and head banging during the loop and at other points along the circuit.’ More widespread criticisms can be found at CaptainCoaster.

Moreover, Turbo has suffered its fair share of problems.  In February 2003, the ride suffered damage from a fire, leading to a closure for repairs that lasted two months. The following year, it was operated, with passengers, while a section of its track was missing. The owners, Brighton Marine Palace Pier Company, were found in breach of public safety regulations and fined more than £37,000 (see the BBC). In early 2013, Turbo was dismantled and sent away for extensive renovation before being ready to roll again in late March.

Turbo (aerial photo from Google Earth) may not be considered a top-tier coaster in terms of ride experience, but it is considered Instagrammable. This is not only because of its location, an enduring part of Brighton’s seaside aesthetic, but because the ride’s loop is so well situated for photos. 

Back in the 1980s, the ZL42 was a particularly popular model offered by Pinfari, located in Suzzara, Lombardy, because of its exceptionally small footprint. The company was liquidated in 2004, and the brand was sold to Interpark Amusements. There’s a few other ZL42 roller-coasters around the world, including: Looping Star (Wonder Land, Egypt), Magic Loop and World Express (both in Venezuela); Ali Baba Coaster (Gloria’s Fantasyland, Philippines); Superman Coaster (Jawa Timur Park 1, Indonesia).

Cuttlefish and their bones

Walk along Brighton’s pebbles and you’ll soon find yourself kicking out at brilliant-white oval-shaped objects that seem to be littering the beach. If you pick one up, it feels unnaturally lightweight. These are cuttlebones, as everyone knows, the internal shells of cuttlefish. They are not the most useful or interesting of beach finds, though they can be ground into powder for polishing, and jewellers have made moulds for casting metals. Today, most commonly, they serve as dietary supplements for pet birds. However, A.Z.L, my 13-year old son, likes turning them into art! This is his Cuttlebone Helter Skelter. Other artists like to carve them into shapes and scenes.

Each spring and summer, common cuttlefish (Sepia officinalis) migrate to shallow waters to breed, leaving behind thousands of eggs hidden among rocks and seaweed. Shortly after spawning, the adults die, and their remains drift with the tides. Their soft bodies decompose quickly, but the cuttlebones - made of lightweight, porous calcium carbonate - float on the water’s surface before washing ashore.

The prevailing southwesterly winds push them toward shore, where they land on Brighton’s pebbles rather than sinking into sand. Unlike driftwood, which might get swept back out to sea, cuttlebones tend to linger, their ghostly forms drying in the sun. Sometimes, you’ll find them with strange marks - tiny holes left by hungry seagulls pecking at the last traces of flesh.

Cuttlefish are fascinating creatures, according to Wikipedia, sometimes called the ‘chameleons of the sea’ due to their incredible ability to change colour and texture in moments. They use this skill to mesmerise prey, communicate with each other, or simply disappear into their surroundings. Though they have eight arms like an octopus, they also have two longer tentacles that strike out to snatch fish, crabs, or shrimp. Despite their intelligence and complex behaviour, their lifespans are surprisingly short - most live only a year or two before nature takes its course - adding another cuttlebone to the Brighton shoreline.

Over time, these bones have found strange uses beyond the sea. For centuries, people have ground them into powder as a polishing agent, while jewellers have used them to make moulds for casting metals. Artists have used them to carve objects of beauty - see Stephen Hughes’ work in South Africa’s Highway Mail. Today, most commonly, they serve as dietary supplements for pet birds, providing much-needed calcium for beak and bone health. 

Cuttlefish, of course, also have ink stores used to deter predators, but they also have long served man for different purposes, as a dye (to make non-iridescent reds, blues, and greens) and for food (to darken and flavour rice and pasta).

Guest: Brighton Beach, The Bluff, Durban

Brighton Beach, the third of this column’s guest beaches, is a scenic coastal area located on The Bluff, south of Durban’s city centre in KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa. Supposedly renowned for its unspoiled beaches and tidal pool, as well as being nearby the world-famous surf spot Cave Rock, it has an interesting history but, currently, seems a little down on its heels - local news headlines are far from positive, but investment is forthcoming.

The Bluff promontory, where Brighton Beach is situated, is a remnant of an extensive coastal dune system that formed between two and five million years ago. This natural formation plays a crucial role in shielding the Port of Durban from the Indian Ocean, forming the port’s southern quayside. 

The Facts about Durban website reveals the area’s interesting history as given by Peter Whitaker: ‘When my father first came to the Bluff in the 1940s Bluff Rd was a sand track and lined with trees. Mr. Grey who owned Greys Inn, a hotel, roughly opposite Splash pools (and not the Harcourt hotel which came much later) used to take a team of oxen down what is now a footpath from Airley Rd to Brighton Beach to help pull the old 1920/30 cars up, so that people could have lunch at his Inn before the long drive back to Durban. Mr. Grey owned a large part of the Brighton Beach area, which is why Greys Inn Rd was named after his Inn, and he also left a large area of the valley in trust to the people of the Bluff, as a recreational area [. . .].

The Bluff had many separate areas as it developed, each with its own problems and characteristics. The North had the Whaling Station smell, the South the Oil refinery smell (not pollution, just a smell), the centre had a swamp with mosquitoes and sometimes you got the benefit of all three in varying proportion. We were a mixed community then, we had Indian fisher folk in houses on stilts built out over the waters of the bay at Fynnlands (as well as some other areas), the Zanzibar’s at Kings Rest, and over at St Francis Xavier in Sormany Rd and down to where Moss Rd is today, a large Zulu community. A number of Bluff roads owe their names to the first farmers who subdivided to make the stands that we live on today. Some of the original farm houses still remain, you just have to know where to look. Then for many years we had Clover dairy (complete with cows) opposite the reservoir in Dunville road it eventually became a depot and then was sold off.’

In 1938, the Durban City Council commissioned and officially opened a floodlit tidal pool at Brighton Beach, enhancing its appeal as a popular picnic and leisure destination. As the photo (accompanying Whitaker’s history) shows, the beach was still very popular in the 1960s. However, for years now, it seems to have been somewhat run down. Last year, finally, the eThekwini Municipality allocated R1 million to refurbish the promenade, the pools, the walkways, and the lifesavers club. The project is part of a larger effort to enhance the coastal experience for residents and tourists in the area. 

Unfortunately, of late, there has been a series of distressing news events. In February, rescue teams recovered, at Brighton and other nearby beaches, the bodies of two women and two children who had been swept into a canal during recent floods. The Southlands Sun reported, also in February, that a 15 year old girl, Slindile Duze, went missing, last seen in Brighton Beach. Meanwhile, the Brighton Beach police are looking for Sindisiwe Nkila and her seven-month old baby, as well as for information about a disoriented man brought into the station who thinks he might be called Sevahn Solomon. Last November, the paper reported on the likely drowning of a teenager ‘in an area without lifeguard supervision at Brighton Beach’. In January, the eThekwini Municipality and the Sharks Board temporarily closed several beaches, including Brighton Beach, to reinstall shark safety gear. 

Nevertheless, I read, Brighton Beach continues to be a cherished destination for both locals and tourists, offering a blend of natural beauty and recreational activities. There is a shipwreck about 3 km offshore, believed by some to be a whaler due to its sunken bollards; and the area is advertised as home to a variety of wildlife, including monkeys, mongooses, and marine life like dolphins and whales. Average temperatures range from 20°C (June to August) to 28°C (December to February). Sea water temperatures are not much different through the year (20°-26°C)!

Brighton half marathon at 35!

Congratulations Seyfu Jamaal - an Ethiopian-born athlete - who won this morning’s Brighton half marathon in a record course time of 64:30 - see BBC Sussex. Congratulations also to Christa Cain who won the women’s race and John Hinkinbottom who won the wheelchair race. The 10,000 strong event, organised by the local charity Sussex Beacon, has grown significantly since its inception in 1990, and is known for its attractive flat seafront course. This photo of Jamal was taken shortly after the start of the race, when he was already flying in the lead.

Born in 2000, Jamaal fled political unrest in Ethiopia and arrived in the UK in 2018 as a victim of human trafficking. On settling in London, he joined the Heathside running club, where he consistently delivered outstanding performances. In 2019, he was ranked number one in the UK for under-20s in both the 10,000 meters and the half marathon. However, his asylum application was rejected by the Home Office, and he faced deportation. Thanks to his contributions to the community and athletic potential, he won an appeal to remain in the UK. His time this morning was just a minute shy of his half marathon best.

A first such half marathon event in Brighton was initially organised by a small group of individuals, and the funds raised from the inaugural race in 1990 helped build The Sussex Beacon, a local HIV care charity. Starting with only a few hundred runners, and now in its 35th year, the event has become one of the largest half marathons in the country. The previous men’s course record was 1:04:56, set by Paul Navesey in 2019; and the women's course record is 1:14:27, set by Eleanor Davis in 2017. Over past years, the Kiwi Paul Martelletti stands out as a four-time consecutive winner of the men’s race. 

It’s worthing noting that, in 2012, the race had to be re-measured after organisers realised the course was 146 meters too short. Thousands of runners who thought they had set personal bests actually hadn’t completed a full half marathon distance.

Here, once, long ago . . .

Here is the third of 25 stained glass window designs on the Palace Pier which AI and I are using as inspiration for some of these BrightonBeach365 daily posts - see Stained glass window 1 for background. This one depicts a coastal scene with sandy beach, a patchwork blue sea, and white chalk cliffs topped with green hills - reminiscent of the iconic Seven Sisters near Eastbourne. A seagull soars in the turquoise sky.

Limerick starter

By the cliffs where the wild seagulls glide,

And the waves kiss the shore in their stride,

Stands a view bathed in light,

Stained in blue, gold, and white,

A bright window where memories still hide.

Here, once, long ago . . . (in the style of Virginia Woolf)

The sea, endless, undulating, the light on it like fragments of glass scattered, shifting, uncatchable. She stood on the cliff’s edge, the air thick with salt and memory. Here, once, long ago - or was it only yesterday? - she had stood with her mother, small hand in the larger, fingers pressed into the cool linen of her dress.

‘The tide,’ her mother had said, ‘comes and goes. Just like us.’

Now the tide was low, revealing sandbars slick and golden, the blue water folding over them in sheets of silk. The white bird, fixed in its motion, rose, dipped, hovered - no, not the bird, the light. Or was it her thought, circling, returning, never quite alighting?

She had left. The city had swallowed her, the rhythm of trains and traffic erasing the lulling hush of waves. And yet, here, in this moment, the sea reclaimed her, drew her back into itself, as if she had never been gone at all. The sky stretched, the cliffs stood, the bird soared, unchanging. Only she, trembling, felt the passage of time, the slow etching of years upon the mind like wind upon the chalk-white stone.

She stepped forward, down the winding path that led to the shore, her boots slipping slightly on the damp earth. The wind pressed against her, urging her on, carrying with it the scent of seaweed and brine. She remembered running down this path as a child, feet bare, pebbles sharp beneath her soles, her mother’s voice calling her name, half warning, half laughter.

At the water’s edge, she bent, fingers skimming the foam as a wave retreated. The cold shocked her skin. A piece of sea glass, smoothed and pale, lay half-buried in the sand. She picked it up, held it to the light. Blue, like the window in the old chapel on the hill. Like the sky before a storm.

Footsteps behind her. A voice - soft, familiar.

‘You always did love the sea.’

She turned. And for a moment, the years dissolved like the foam at her feet.

Now you see them . . .

Brighton Beach is justly famed for its starling murmurations during the winter months. Usually as dusk approaches and before roosting for the night, many thousands of these birds swarm and swoop through the sky - between and near both piers - dancing together in what look like carefully-choreographed ensembles, thus creating the most mesmerising patterns. Crowds of humans gather on the beach and the pier, cameras in hand, to capture the sight. And the photographs they take can be made yet more photogenic (startling even!) with either of the piers in the background and/or the setting sun.

NOW YOU SEE THEM . . .

These two photographs were taken a few minutes apart last evening(the sun drops fairly quickly below the horizon line at this time of year). I was not able to capture the beautiful shapes made by the murmurations - though wonderful videos and gorgeous stills of them can be found elsewhere, such as on Facebook and Instagram. However, the above photo gives a sense, maybe, of how each bird twists and turns through the sky, painting the air with movement - pure, wild, and apparently weightless - to form a scene both serene and dramatic, a fleeting moment of natural beauty.

NOW YOU DON'T . . .

According to The Woodland Trust, thousands of starlings all swirling and swooping together means one thing: safety. The sheer volume of birds confuses predators like peregrine falcons and makes it much harder for them to pick off individual birds. The characteristic shapes of a murmuration come from the rapid changes in direction. Starlings have extremely fast reactions, so when one bird changes speed or direction, the birds around it do too. This also allows the birds to move within the murmuration itself, meaning that no one bird spends too much time at the edge of the group, where they’re vulnerable to predation. When roosting, apparently, they also like to snuggle up together for a warmer night.

Apart from Brighton, other famous murmuration sites include: Shapwick Heath, Somerset Levels (where six million birds were recorded in 1999); Aberystwyth Pier, Ceredigion; Leighton Moss, Lancashire; Fen Drayton, Cambridgeshire; Minsmere, Suffolk; Newport Wetlands, South Wales.