A dark grey layer of stratus cloud lingers before the sunrise, and slowly retreats towards the horizon. It reveals a perfect blue sky above the park, with a high crescent moon and pinkish hues to the west. The clear sky lends itself to a cool and crisp start to the day - very chilly around the ears!
We head down towards Tilly Whim with the aim to close the gate for the Adder season, but instead find the padlock rusted shut. They never last more than one season in this exposed spot. In contrast, the cave itself is sheltered and eerily quiet; excepting the pitter patter of water droplets falling from the saturated limestone above.
A Chiffchaff welcomes us back up to the coast path, sounding from the Tamarisk. Jackdaws scatter as we approach the cliff edge and take in the view of the calm sea-state; mottled with dark patches where gusts breakout from the offshore wind.
Again, its quiet. My ears become attune to the gentle pattering of many Guillemot wings as they preen themselves upon the water. Altogether, this amounts to quite an audible ensemble. The birds raft in a long line stringing out from the cliffs. Herring Gull, Shag, and Fulmar in flight.
As we reach the woodland, rays of golden sunlight break through the cloud and warm the trees. Crows caw, and Woodpigeons coo. I hear mostly Robin song, though a Song Thrush chimes in as I regard the last of the Snowberries clinging to their branches.
The stream trickles down through the bridge at Sunnydale. Given that it was restored just a few years ago, it already blends quite seamlessly into the landscape; its stones dyed green with Moss and Lichen. Fronds of Male Fern reach out from the surrounding banks and fresh leaves of Creeping Comfrey envelop the bare earth.