This week has seen exceptionally large tides. Looking out over the glassy sea surface shimmering in the autumn sunshine, this bay that I am so familiar with feels like a totally different place. Rocky reefs, normally hidden at low tide, stick up incongruously. The walk to the lapping water takes us over unfamiliar, strangely patterned sand and past rocks that are usually no more than dark shadows looming beneath the surface, sprouting waving heads of bladderwrack hair. The water is behaving strangely too. The river that empties here creates a lively chaos of currents as its spewing contents collide with the swell rolling in from the Atlantic. And although the sea appears unnaturally calm, every now and then a surprisingly large wave heaves up and crashes across the sand.
This almost magical moment of ultra-low tide prompts me to explore as many corners of the beach as I can – the new rock pools, the extraordinary, striped and lustrous rock formations. It’s as if fleetingly, the sea has revealed some secrets for us to seek out and enjoy if we have the curiosity and energy to do so. But all too quickly the moment passes, the waters flood back and the rising tide reclaims its territory.
This month the international conference on climate change, COP26, starts. These multi-national get-togethers are driven by political timetables rather than astronomical ones, but there is more than a passing similarity. For two weeks, the World’s leaders will huddle together to discuss once again how to tackle what is possibly the greatest threat facing humanity. But this time it’s different, not least because it is the UK who will be chairing proceedings. It will be a moment to grasp but, like the exceptional tide, it will quickly be gone and could all too easily be consigned to the somewhat indifferent history of climate conferences unless political leaders raise their game.