Brighton, Seaford, and the Seven Sisters

Pictures: 1) In Brighton, 2) Brighton pier from afar, 3) holding a shell on the beach, 4) the Royal Pavilion, 5) a pretty tree in the Royal Pavilion gardens, 6) view of Seaford Cliffs, 7) looking down from Seaford cliffs, 8) looking to the left from Seaford cliffs, 9) looking to the right from Seaford cliffs over the town, 10) the Seven Sisters Cliffs



Today I woke up at 8:20 to get ready and catch the 10 am train to Brighton. It is only about a 55 minute ride, which is nice, and from the train station in Brighton (which is up on a hill) you can see right down to the water. I thus started out down the hill at 11 am. I had a fleece on over my Harvard t-shirt, but with the bright sun shining down on me, I soon removed the fleece. When I reached the seaside, I ran across the familiar rocky shore down to where the waves crashed in a sonorous clacking of stone upon stone. The water didn't feel too cold, but it could have been that my hands were already a bit numb from the wind. I walked along the waters edge, picking up beautiful stones as the waves receded, and backing away when they crashed toward me again. The sun and sky were so lovely that I laid down on the stones for a while, soaking up the warmth. While they are uncomfortable to walk on (so many different sized stones under your shoes makes for quite a strain on one's ankles) they are perfectly suitable for napping.

After a few minutes I walked to the pier (one of Brighton's most famous attractions) which is filled with stands selling doughnuts, hot dogs, palm readings, etc. At the end of the massive pier there is a carnival with a roller coaster, thrill house, Ferris wheel, merry-go-round, and more. The music was playing as I walked through, and while many of the rides were lit up, nothing was open. It was rather eerie, like walking through a ghost town. I felt as though I were in some sort of strange land where all of the children suddenly disappeared, and left the music going and the lights on.

From there I walked to the gardens surrounding the Royal Pavilion. I went to the Pavilion last time I was in Brighton, so I didn't need to go inside again, but next door is a free art museum that I didn't get to see last time because I went on a Monday and it is closed on Mondays. I was quite excited that this time I'd get to see it, until I reached the door and read "closed for routine cleaning March 24-27." Someone is out to get me. However, I ate my packed sandwich and fruit on a little park bench, listed to a saxophone player whose music drifted across the meadow in the most heart-breaking and splendid tones, and watched two boys playing ball.

At one point, the boy nearest me missed the ball and it went flying behind him toward a group of people with a young son. As soon as the ball bounced near him you could see his eyes light up (he was probably 7), and he handed the ball to the older boy (about 13) with reverence. From thereon he hovered nearby until, luckily for him, the ball missed its mark again. Upon seeing this, the little boy ran for it, picked it up and hurled it all the way across the field to the initial thrower. Both older boys were clearly flabbergasted, as was I, not believing this kid's arm. After that they included him in their game of catch, and I found myself often smiling at the sight of them.

Finally I walked back toward the main street and to the station, catching the 1:10 train to Seaford (about 35 minutes away). Seaford was not a particularly pretty town, but I followed my nose to the water and the view of the white cliffs from the beach was utterly breathtaking. I had wanted to find this bike rental company so I could bike across the National Park that spans several miles between Seaford and Eastborn, but I wasn't really sure where the place was, and I am fairly certain I couldn't have biked up those hills anyway, thus I headed out on foot.

I climbed to the top of the the highest white cliff in Seaford, and gazed out at the unbelievable view. Hundreds of feet below, waves crashed onto a rocky shore, out at sea a sailboat was the only vessel to be seen, and the sun reflected across the water so brilliantly that the whole sea appeared to be made of diamonds. To my right was the town of Seaford, looking much more picturesque than when I was actually in it, and beyond that town was another cliff, jutting out into the sea with a lighthouse standing out on its farthest edge. To my left I could see the rolling hills atop the cliffs, and in the distance, standing out like new-fallen snow, were the Seven Sisters. Seven beautiful, chalky cliffs, so much more lovely than those at Dover, pristine and shining. No buildings detract from their splendor, and nothing graces their majestic peaks except the determined hiker or the rabbits and fat bumble bees that abound in the area. Behind me, acre upon acre of green rolling hill was dotted with plump white sheep and the vibrant grass was offset by the stunningly blue sky above. I found myself repeating "wow" under my breath, over and over.

I then decided I would hike across the Seven Sisters and take the train back to London from Eastborn. It seemed logical enough - no backtracking necessary. However, after an hour's hike, I realized my goal was perhaps a bit lofty. While I had gotten relatively close to the start of the Seven Sisters, I could not see Eastborn clearly. I thought I saw a town, far in the distance, but if that wasn't it, what would I do? And what if I couldn't make it there before dark, or what if it got too cold or the weather changed, or, most likely, what if my weak knees and ankles (already throbbing) just couldn't make it a further 5 miles (which was my estimate). Finally, I admitted defeat (being alone it wasn't worth the risk), but I plopped myself down on one of the cliff's ledges, watching the people on the beach at the base of the first Sister cliff, and ate some more fruit and some cookies. Knowing I wasn't going to go all the way made my journey from there on out much more leisurely. I don't really mind so much, since the view of the ocean from atop those cliffs would have been the same as the view from atop my cliffs, and in fact, my view of them would be infinitely better than their view of me.

As I sat there snacking, there was a bench up the hill a bit to my right, and one to my left, though I believe they could not see each other, I could see both of them. On my right an old man sat with a newspaper, reading and gazing out at the view alternately. While he looked content enough, I felt sad for him, sitting there all alone (though I wasn't sad for myself, so perhaps he would not have liked my pity for his solitude). On the bench to my left an elderly couple sat together, close as two turtledoves, whispering together and kissing as though they were teenagers. I couldn't help stealing glances over my shoulder at them and thinking how amazing their romance was after what was probably many years. After some time I looked back toward where the solitary man sat, and he was gone. I am probably the only person who ever knew he was there. Soon thereafter the couple picked up their walking sticks, and, hand-in-hand, headed the opposite direction. Something about this dichotomy struck a chord in me, though I can't exactly put it into words.

At long last, I tore myself away from my cliff side picnic area, and started my walk back to Seaford. I had been noticing on the walk earlier all the little round pellets on the ground, and upon seeing my first rabbit, I realized what it was. Luckily, most of the rabbit poop was not fresh and thus did not stick to shoes. There must have been thousands living in the area though. I saw five during my hike, and many bunny holes. They were quite large and fast as anything. I was only able to get a picture of one by sneaking up on it (not too close) and zooming in. Right after I took the photo it dove into a burrow.

I stopped several more times on my way back to Seaford, standing or sitting on the cliffs, smiling at the sun and braving the winds that had become very fierce and cold. My fleece and windbreaker were both donned at this point. When I finally reached the Seaford beach, I bought a scone and went and sat near the water on the smooth rocks. Sand is clearly a hot commodity around that area, because I didn't see any of it. lol

I debated on staying to watch the sunset, but as it was getting very cold (though the skies were still blue and the sun still shining), I decided to catch the 5:30 train back to London. I bet the sunset was really fabulous though.

Overall, it was a lovely, relaxing, calming, outstandingly beautiful day. Tomorrow morning I may go to Hampstead Heath which is a park that overlooks London a bit outside of town. We'll see how exhausted I am and how the weather holds up.