Planning a Winter Walk Along the Coast Path

Why the Coast Path Rewards You in Winter

In summer the coast path belongs to everyone: car parks fill by ten, the stiles queue up, and the best viewpoints come with an audience. Winter gives the path back. With the hedges bare, views that were a green tunnel in July open out to show the whole sweep of the bay, and the low sun throws long shadows across the water. You will often hear the sea well before you see it.

In exchange, winter asks for a little more thought. The days are short, the ground is wet, the wind has teeth, and the sea is not scenery but a genuine consideration. None of that is difficult to manage, but it does need planning.

Check the Tide Table and the Forecast First

Tides first, always. Many of the finest stretches of coast path cross a beach at the mouth of an estuary, or round a headland that is impassable at high water. Aim to be past any tidal section within about two and a half hours either side of low water, and check the actual table for that specific stretch rather than trusting a rule of thumb. Spring tides, around the new and full moon, push water considerably higher and further up the beach than neap tides.

Then the forecast, and read the wind as carefully as the rain. A still, cold morning is a pleasure; forty miles an hour of westerly on an exposed clifftop is a different proposition altogether. Coastal and inshore forecasts give wind speed, direction and sea state, and a wind that has crossed hundreds of miles of cold water feels far colder than the number on the thermometer suggests.

Finally, check the time of sunset. In midwinter, dusk arrives in the middle of the afternoon. Allow an hour more daylight than you think you need, and carry a head torch regardless.

Dressing for a Cold Wind Off the Sea

Layering is the whole game, and the wind is what you are layering against. Three layers will see you through almost anything:

• Base layer: merino wool or a synthetic wicking fabric. Avoid cotton next to the skin; once it is damp it stays damp and chills you quickly.
• Mid layer: a fleece or light insulated jacket you can strip off on the first steep climb and pull back on at the top.
• Outer layer: a waterproof and windproof shell. Windproof matters more than you might expect on a headland.

For legs, walking trousers rather than jeans, with waterproof over-trousers in the pack for squally showers. Waterproof boots with a decent tread are essential: winter paths are muddy, and wet chalk, slate and granite are all slippery. Wellington boots cope well with estuary mud but are miserable over a long distance, so wear proper boots and save the wellies for the beach. Pack spare socks — cold, wet feet will end a walk faster than anything else — plus a hat and two pairs of gloves. Start slightly cool rather than toasty; you will warm up within ten minutes of walking.

The Flask and the Small Comforts

A flask is not a luxury in winter, it is equipment. Hot tea, coffee or soup drunk on a bench above a grey sea, with oystercatchers calling below, is one of the genuine pleasures of the British coast. Take something substantial to eat as well — flapjack, oatcakes, nuts, a decent sandwich — and water, because cold air dehydrates you just as effectively as sunshine.

Alongside the flask, a short kit list worth carrying:

• A paper map in a waterproof case, and a compass you know how to use
• A charged phone, and your route and expected return time left with someone at home
• A head torch with spare batteries
• Blister plasters, a small first aid kit, a whistle and an emergency foil blanket

Mud, Stiles and Cliff Edges

Winter ground is slower than summer ground, so adjust your expectations. Expect mud, particularly on the clay stretches, and expect it to be deeper than it looks. Shorten your stride on wet descents, use trekking poles if you have them, and step over stiles rather than vaulting them when everything is slick.

Treat the cliff edge with real respect. Wet grass, undermined soil and a gust of wind are a poor combination, so keep well back from the lip and avoid walking along the base of crumbling cliffs, where rockfall is common after frost. Keep dogs on leads wherever there may be livestock, close every gate behind you, and heed any signs about seasonal closures — some stretches shut for shooting or military use, and the diversion is usually well marked.

Using the Short Winter Daylight Well

Start earlier than you would in summer and plan to be on the outward leg by mid-morning. Either walk a circular route, or arrange a lift, or check a local bus so you are not committed to retracing every step in the dark. Aim to be back at the car or the village before dusk, which still leaves time to enjoy the best of the light: the low, slanting hour before sunset, when the sea turns the colour of pewter and the cliffs glow gold.

Winter walking is about fewer miles and more looking. Eight miles on a cold coast path, with a flask stop and a long pause to watch the breakers, will leave you far happier than a rushed fifteen. Finish with something warm — a pub, a café, or your own kitchen — get the wet kit off and hung up, and put the kettle on. That is the whole ritual, and it is worth every layer you had to put on.