There are beach cleans, and there are extreme beach cleans. Read what happens when I join a group of volunteers who regularly brave the surf and cold of the North Sea to reach the most remote, inaccessible coves along Yorkshire's rugged coast.
It always saddens me when people’s neglect of the environment harms wildlife. And nowhere is this more evident than on our coastline, where litter is a constant problem. Thankfully, all around Britain’s shores there are groups of volunteers trying to do something about this via regular litter picking and beach cleans.
But recently I met up with one group who go the extra mile to help keep our seas free from plastic. Based in Scarborough, Snorkelling Environmental Adventure take their litter picking duties to the extreme, swimming out to the most inaccessible of places – beaches and coves that are not possible to reach on foot. The voluntary group, which includes divers from Scarborough’s Sub Aqua Club, was formed after members regularly came across litter whilst exploring the waters of this coastline. They meet once a week during the summer to snorkel out to spots impossible to reach even at low tide and anyone with snorkelling experience is welcome to join, although you need to be a reasonably good swimmer.
Joining an extreme beach clean group
Last summer I decided to join the group on an extreme beach clean to find out more. The group is headed up by Edmund Ulliot, otherwise known as Spud, an experienced diver who knows this coastline like the back of his hand. We met at Thornwick Bay near Flamborough, one of my favourite coves and a place steeped in legend – it’s said that in the 18th century smugglers regularly used the caves and tunnels beneath the cliffs to hide contraband.
From the car park we walked to Little Thornwick Bay, a small bay just north of Thornwick Bay itself and gathered on the beach, a group of around 10 volunteers all kitted out in wet suits, snorkels and masks. We began by collecting litter from the rocks and sand. As we did so gulls swirled above us and kittiwakes sounded their noisy ‘kitty-waak, kitty-waak’ calls – a timely reminder of what we were here to protect. Then, moving together as a group, we followed Spud into the water. He led us through a sea arch where boisterous waves bounced off the chalk sides and through to a series of small caves where the water churned and spun us like clothes in a washing machine. I was glad of my thick wet suit.
Removing litter lodged in the rocks
As we approached a small cove, just north of Little Thornwick Bay, Spud joked that we had just been through the pre-wash. I’m an experienced snorkeller and I might have been uncomfortable swimming up to the rocks and caves in high seas if it wasn’t for Spud’s expert guidance. He had carefully planned our trip to coincide around a slack tide, which meant we were carried much of the way there and back by a gentle tide. Even so, Spud advised we stayed together as a team for safety.
When we arrived at the next cove, we split up into two groups. I followed Spud into a deep cave, so low I had to crawl along its rocky, puddled floor on my hands and knees. Once inside I was taken aback by how much litter and debris was lodged deep in the spaces under the rocks. Pushed in by high tides and storms, the cave was packed with rubbish, some of it lodged so tightly into the roof of the cave Spud had to use a knife to cut it away. As he did so, he passed pieces back to me and I bagged it up ready to tow back to shore.
After filling four net bags to the brim, we moved on to the next cave. In total Spud and I cleared three caves of rubbish. It was genuinely hard work getting into these small openings, some of them were such a squeeze I had to go through sideways. Sadly, a lot the rubbish we collected was debris from the fishing industry, gear such as nets, ropes and buoys lost or washed ashore during storms.
Wildlife entangled in discarded litter
But more depressing was all the litter left behind by picnickers and beach goers: foam swimming noodles, frisbees, balls, shoes, plastic water bottles and empty food cartons. There were even some plastics, including ear buds, from a sewerage outlet further upstream. And tragically, as we moved through the caves, we also came across both a guillemot and a puffin, lying dead in a tangle of netting. In the past I’ve also seen seals with frisbees around their necks. After four hours of collecting up rubbish, we tied all the bags together to form rafts and, towing the bags behind us, swam south to Thornwick Bay. It was a beautiful evening. The sea, now calm, reflected the soft blue of the sky and the sun lit up the white chalk cliffs.
The spell was broken when we reached the beach by a disheartening sight. Groups of picnickers had visited throughout the day, and the bay was littered with yet more rubbish. We set to collecting this fresh lot, then, our rubbish now heaped high, inspected our haul. Among the volunteers with us that day was biologist Caroline Pinder. She pointed out the further, hidden danger posed by the debris: if left to decay in the caves this plastic would shed billions of micro plastics which can then be ingested by wildlife. In addition to these weekly beach and cove cleans, Spud and his team take a boat belonging to the Scarborough Sub Aqua Club out to reach even more inaccessible spots.
Reaching the most inaccessible coves by boat
Tipped off by a fellow divers and a network of concerned members of the public, the group use ariel footage supplied by the Yorkshire Wildlife Trust to identify areas where rubbish is lodged amongst the rocks. These boat trips are less frequent and very dependent on the weather. I decided to join them on their next trip, along the rocky outcrops towards Filey, south of Scarborough.
Here the cliffs drop straight down into the sea onto long, rocky ledges which meant the boat had to moor 300m away from the shore. We were each assigned a ‘buddy’ and instructed to stay close at all times as we swam the distance. It was hard going battling the choppy surf and avoiding the rocks but again we managed to collect so much rubbish that, once we’d loaded it all into the boat, there was barely enough room to sit alongside it. As we unloaded our haul back at the harbour, I heard a peregrine falcon calling overhead. At the sound, I paused to take in the view. This coastline really is beautiful and home to such special wildlife. As the sun dipped behind the houses lining the harbour, it sent a shimmer of gold over the waves.
I was exhausted but pleased at what we had accomplished. I have great admiration for the work these groups do to clean up our beautiful local beaches and I can’t wait to join them again this year.
