It’s always a special time - when the glow of the day turns to the gold of the evening. And so it was for the final evening puffin patrol of the season.
On Grandstand viewpoint, puffins were ticked of the must-see list. There’s been a puffin nesting unusually close to this viewpoint and the puffling inside the crevice in the cliff has been visible on many occasions. In fact, it’s appeared in so many photos, it probably has its own Twitter account.
A trail of puffin-facts wound its way along the cliff tops and shed some light on the life and loves of the seabird. Unlike the puffin on the chalk board, we weren't sensible enough to pack a torch so we didn't hang around.
While famous for its seabirds, the reserve is home to all kinds of wildlife. And we were treated to some real surprises on this walk – a barn owl flying low in search of supper; a spotted common orchid, just past its best, hiding amongst the long grass; a woozy ‘woolly boy’ dropped from the beak of a clumsy seabird; the rising song of skylark and a fleeting glance of a corn bunting in the now darkening sky. We were entranced.
And there was also the moment that 70 year old Guoxian from Yunnan, China gazed across at the sea for only the second time in her life – the first time being only hours earlier a little further south. From a land of lakes and mountains, she was mesmerised by the waves.
As the sun slipped sleepily further towards the horizon, we arrived at New Roll-up viewpoint. Here a stiff-winged fulmar spiralled slowly downward in large circles. Beneath the churning sea 300 feet below, lies one of the thousands of ships that ran aground on this treacherous coast. The Radium sank here in 1937 carrying a cargo of coal. Its boiler can still be seen at low tide. But the most famous wreck hereabouts is the Bonhomme Richard which met its end in the Battle of Flamborough Head in 1779. Its Captain was John Paul Jones, the father of the US Navy, and Americans still scan the seabed in the hope of discovering his lost sailing ship.
With the light now fading, over towards Filey, the sun and the sea gently kissed and the magic happened. A pool of gold formed across the bay where surely there must be yellow-haired mermaids playing. And a pink pathway stretched out towards the cliffs that if followed would likely lead to sunken pirate treasure. (That’s the problem with sunsets, they do tend to make you more than a little whimsical).
Earlier on the cliff top path, we passed a bunch of flowers tied to a fence post in memory of someone unknown to us but still missed by a loved one. We hoped with all our might that the visit they were remembering had been as wonderful as this one.