
Tides are a fascinating phenomena. I first became aware of them when I was eight and we had a fortnight’s holiday in a converted train carriage in Wittering, West Sussex. Mum and Dad obtained a tide timetable so we could visit the beach at low tide when the sand ( sand flats perhaps a better description ) appeared and we were safe in the shallow water. My parents sat on the beach with a rug over their knees and no intention of going in the water. At high tide we abandoned the pebble beach for cultural pursuits such as visiting Chichester Cathedral. Staying for a fortnight illustrated the fact that times of the tides changed slightly every day, for reasons I still don’t understand, but the Moon is involved. So a typical holiday agenda would be beach in the morning first week and by second week, beach in the afternoon.

Tides are at their most interesting when islands are involved, islands close enough to walk to at low tide, with the additional excitement of perhaps being stranded or washed away on the incoming tide. At Saint Michael’s Mount in Cornwall you can walk across a stone causeway or have a boat ride at high tide. By the time you have finished exploring the little rocky island the tide will probably have turned and you will return by the opposite method to your arrival. The Saint Aubyn family still live here and manage it with the National Trust. On arrival you can follow a steep path winding up to the castle. The harbour village has a shop and café. This is my favourite island, what fun to enjoy living on an island, while still being able to pop over to the mainland for your shopping. I love the sub tropical terraced gardens and the castle is very homely, just the sort of little castle I would like to own.
https://stmichaelsmount.co.uk/

We have also been to the mother ship, I mean monastery, Mont Saint Michel in Normandy, France. This island is on a larger scale, full of restaurants and tourists. You can walk all round the island at low tide and there are lots of photo opportunities. In more recent times no cars go over the causeway. There is a visitor centre with car park and a free shuttle bus across the causeway, or you can take a horse and carriage or walk. The tides vary greatly, at roughly 14 metres (46 ft) between highest and lowest water.

If you have ever travelled on the east coast railway line to Edinburgh you will have been treated to views of Durham Cathedral high above and the Newcastle bridges, but also you can look across shimmering seas to the Holy Island of Lindisfarne. I instantly wanted to go there and we finally made it on a Northumberland holiday which included other great sights such as… you will have to wait for another day to find out.
The island has a causeway which you can drive across, though you leave you car in the car park to enjoy the peace of the island. Saint Aiden came from the holy Island of Iona on the west coast of Scotland to found an abbey.
When we visited, a bride was being driven across in a carriage pulled by black horses, she was being married at the castle. We wondered if the wedding guests would all get off the island again before high tide.
‘Warning signs urge visitors walking to the island to keep to the marked path, to check tide times and weather carefully. For drivers, tide tables are prominently displayed at both ends of the causeway The causeway is generally open from about three hours after high tide until two hours before the next high tide. Despite these warnings, about one vehicle each month is stranded on the causeway, requiring rescue by HM Coastguard and / or the Seahouses RNLI lifeboat.’
https://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/visit/north-east/lindisfarne-castle
Tidal fun doesn’t have to involve an island. We once had a holiday on Grange-over-Sands railway station, Cumbria. The working station also had part of the building converted to a cottage, it was surreal hearing trains go through in the middle of the night. Grange-over-Grass might be a more appropriate name as at low tide sheep were put out to graze, then sheepdogs rounded them up before the incoming tide. The station looked out over the vast stretch of Morecambe Bay. I have looked this up and can’t find holiday accommodation listed for the station or any mention of sheep. Did I imagine the whole thing?
You can walk across the bay at low tide, it’s a long way and the Morecambe Bay sands are renowned for their quick sands and fast flowing tides. Crossing the sands has always been dangerous. The King’s Guide to the Sands is the royally appointed guide to crossing the sands.
We did not try that.
What is your favourite island and more interestingly, have you ever been stranded on one?

My favorite island is Mont Saint Michel. When I was in high school, I went there on a school trip. It’s a very special place!
LikeLiked by 1 person
That must have been a wonderful trip Liz.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It was a learning experience! We were staying in a cheap hotel in the student quarter and got to witness a riot outside the window. With tear gas.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello Liz, a holiday not to be forgotten then.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Nope!
LikeLiked by 2 people
I visited Mont St Michel a few times before the causeway was replaced. It’s very beautiful, but incredibly busy so best to go early morning or in the evening.
For me, it’s most impressive from the sands, but because of the tides and the frequent areas of quicksand I would recommend staying close to the island or taking one of the guided walks. Having grown up near to Morecambe Bay, quicksand doesn’t worry me but you have to know places like Mont St Michel or Morecambe Bay very well before venturing out on you own.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello Iain, thank for your comments. We had a lovely time staying near Mont St Michel and just walking down to the causeway on several visits. We walked round the island at low tide, but didn’t venture far.
LikeLike
A friend went on one of the guided walks across the bay at Mont St Michel about 20 years ago and thoroughly recommended it. The guides demonstrate how to get out of the quicksand and encourage everyone to try it, though it appears in videos of these walks to be much more stable than the quicksand I’m used to on Morecambe Bay.
I’m sure that the King’s Guide plans the routes across Morecambe Bay to avoid the softest and deepest areas of quicksand. Often you can walk on quicksand without sinking, unless you stand still for too long, and it just wobbles like a huge jelly. But occasionally, within a couple of steps of the sand starting to move you may find yourself sinking, and sometimes very quickly. And whilst you can’t sink completely, even when the quicksand is “bottomless”, the tide coming in is a real danger if you find yourself stuck.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I saw a TV drama when I was a young child when a woman sank in the Goodwin Sands so I have tended to avoid quicksand ever since!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I had a similar experience as a young boy but it had quite the opposite effect on me. In my case it was an old Tarzan movie where the heroine sank in quicksand, but rather than scaring me, it made me curious to find out what it would be like. So when I was a bit older, and having read that you can’t sink completely in quicksand, I tentatively started exploring Morecambe Bay.
If you ever get the opportunity to experience quicksand (with a qualified guide) I would say grasp it with both hands! There’s something thrilling about feeling yourself sinking, especially when you can sense from the way the quicksand is moving that it’s very deep and you don’t know quite when you’ll stop. But at the same time, it’s strangely relaxing to feel yourself floating when you do finally stop sinking.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello Iain, I’m quite impressed, sounds like you would enjoy float in the Dead Sea or in one of those float tanks!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you for the suggestion of the Floatation Tank experience, Janet. It wasn’t something I even realised existed, and it does sound wonderfully relaxing!
For me, the relaxing element of being in quicksand comes from the texture of the sand and the contrast with the ‘peril’ while I’m sinking. Unfortunately, you can’t really enjoy the relaxation for long as the quicksand can start to thicken if you stop moving.
I’ve only once really struggled to get out, when the quicksand was already quite thick at the surface but much softer deeper down, and getting softer all the time as I tried to lift myself up. An interesting experience!, but I much prefer the challenge of the quicksand being more fluid and seemingly drawing me back in than it not wanting to let me go at all!
LikeLiked by 1 person
My husband and I were stranded for a couple of hours on a small island just offshore near Tofino, British Columbia. We waded over and didn’t realize the tide was coming in. Had to wait until it went out again. There was a primitive cabin with a charcoal barbecue and some wizened potatoes outside. We actually cooked a couple of the spuds while we were waiting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello Audrey, that was a bit of drama, good thing you didn’t have to wait too long, not a very exciting dinner.
LikeLiked by 1 person
No, and we were almost late for a paid-for dinner at the resort we were staying at. But it was a harmless adventure in the end.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I love watching the tide come in over the causeway at Lindisfarne. I’ve visited there a few times. Also been to Mont St Michel a couple of times and on both occasions seen cars stranded in the car parks! Not surprised cars aren’t allowed across any more!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello Joanne, free guaranteed entertainment watching the tide at Lindisfarne.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I have been to St Michael’s Mount frequently, as we always holidayed in Cornwall until I was 11. I have also visited Mont St Michel. The time I went to Holy Island I had left our arrival rather late, and we had to rush around to see the sights before the deadline to move the car before the tide came in.
Best wishes, Pete.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Sorry about ‘frequently, that should have read ‘many times’. No idea why I typed ‘frequently’ instead!
LikeLiked by 1 person
So you might have ended up staying on Holy Island and becoming a monk!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Not an island but one of the car parks in Cardigan floods if there is an particularly high tide and cars are stuck. there are warning signs but it is so infrequent that they don’t say exactly when. If the water starts rising it is easy enough to splash to the road up to the town or to the footpath past the cemetery but there is also an Indian restaurant in a boat tied to the end of the quay where you can enjoy a meal while the tide goes out again!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well that sounds like a fun car park.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a lovely post, Janet. I don’t like the beach very much because I get bad rashes from the salt water and humidity. I like the sound of the ocean and pictures of it.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello Robbie, yes the sea can still be enjoyed without going near the beach, I love the sound of waves at night when it’s rough.
LikeLike
I like that too. I do love water.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My favorite islands are in the San Juans between Canada and the United States.
My youngest son almost stranded his now wife and her two children when he took them all on a Puget Sound walk on a narrow strip of beach around the rocks that had them wading in water on the way back. I don’t know why she still married him!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Hello Geoff, I’ll have to look your islands up. Maybe his future wife admired your son’s sense of adventure!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Never a dull moment?
LikeLiked by 1 person
My moments drift through delusion, droll, and dull!
LikeLiked by 1 person