Nature's Last Domain
Created | Updated Apr 12, 2004
Nature's Last Domain
(Toastmaster Competition Speech, March / April 2004)
Picture this. You are standing on a rocky ledge. In front of you is a wide trench, about 20 feet deep. You pick your way down to the bottom. It's cool and damp, and there is a roaring noise in the distance that makes you realise you cannot stay too long. You make your way up the wall on the other side, taking great care, as one small slip could spell disaster. Eventually you reach the top, only to be confronted by row after row of sharp, unremitting stone barriers. You feel like a flea, clambering over a gigantic razor blade.
Where is this place? The Antarctic ice fields? The Himalayan foothills? No, this is a place no more than a few miles away from where we stand today. This is the Cork coastline I am talking about.
Now, most of us, when we think of coastlines we think of wide sandy beaches, small children playing in the surf, and sunbathers basking in a warm summer sun. However, where we come from, this is more the exception rather than the rule. More often than not, our coastline is comprised of high, craggy cliffs; narrow secluded coves, boulder fields and jagged rock platforms. It is a natural obstacle course, forged by an inland sea over three hundred and fifty million years ago, and now surrendering itself back into the waves as a result of Global Warming.
This is the road less travelled. A place that humans rarely visit. A place where animals and plants are free to grow and prosper, unhindered by human contact. The rock-pools are filled with shrimp and small fish, that flit away under the slightest provocation. The cliffs are home to large colonies of rock doves and fulmars. The sea shore is a feeding ground for curlews and redshank and oystercatchers to name but a few. Gannets can be seen hitting the sea at breakneck speed. A small relative of the jackdaw - the endangered, red-beaked chough - dances in the air when strong winds blow in from the sea. If you are really lucky you will see some of the coast’s rarer inhabitants: lizards, stoats, seals and otters. And in the summer the place comes alive, as the flowers of Sea-Pink and Sea-Campion explode into bloom. This is a natural history museum right on our front doorstep.
But there is a difference. Museums are rarely dangerous places, and our seashore can be treacherous. Every year, fatal accidents occur that are testimony to this fact. So it is wise to take a few precautions before you go out to explore the sea-shore. The most important piece of information you can have is contained in a small booklet, available at any outdoor shop. These are the tide tables, and they tell you the times of high-tide and low-tide for every day of the year. In general you have just three hours in any one day – two hours before low-tide and one hour afterwards, and to go out at any other time is foolhardy in the extreme, as you risk getting cut off by the waves. You should also bring along a good pair of boots, as the rocks and the seaweed are continuously conspiring to trip you up. You also need a torch, a whistle and a brightly coloured jacket, just in case you get into trouble and need to be rescued. If you have to stay out there for longer than you expect, bring along a packed lunch and a warm change of clothes. And finally, tell someone where you are going, and how long you will be. By taking these simple precautions, you are helping to avoid a small problem becoming a major disaster.
Now, you would think that, because we Irish are an island people, that we would have a great respect and affinity for our seashores. However, the reverse is the case. We think about it rarely, and care about it even less. So there are dangers. There is a danger from property developers, who think nothing about disrupting an entire ecosystem in order to build the latest golf-course or a new hotel. There is a danger from land-owners, who want to fence off the seashore for their own purposes, thus depriving the rest of us of a vital, natural amenity. And then there is a danger from polluters, and by polluters I mean anybody who treats our coastline like a gigantic waste pit. Every year they cause gross acts of environmental damage with impunity. Raw sewage and chemicals to poison our fish; plastic bags and tin-cans to choke and maim our larger animals. So we must be vigilant. Because, if we are not, the seashore and our access to it will be very different in twenty years time. As the Joni Mitchell song goes – "You won’t know what you’ve got, 'til it’s gone".
Our seashore is a beautiful place, it is a fascinating place, it is a treacherous place and it is a very vulnerable place. The next time you are down at the seaside, take a walk along our rocky shore. Look around, listen to the sounds and breath in the experience. This narrow sliver of rock between the land and the sea is the last outpost of unspoilt wilderness remaining in this country. We have a duty to look after it and to protect it for the sake of our children.
(Toastmaster Competition Speech, March / April 2004)
Picture this. You are standing on a rocky ledge. In front of you is a wide trench, about 20 feet deep. You pick your way down to the bottom. It's cool and damp, and there is a roaring noise in the distance that makes you realise you cannot stay too long. You make your way up the wall on the other side, taking great care, as one small slip could spell disaster. Eventually you reach the top, only to be confronted by row after row of sharp, unremitting stone barriers. You feel like a flea, clambering over a gigantic razor blade.
Where is this place? The Antarctic ice fields? The Himalayan foothills? No, this is a place no more than a few miles away from where we stand today. This is the Cork coastline I am talking about.
Now, most of us, when we think of coastlines we think of wide sandy beaches, small children playing in the surf, and sunbathers basking in a warm summer sun. However, where we come from, this is more the exception rather than the rule. More often than not, our coastline is comprised of high, craggy cliffs; narrow secluded coves, boulder fields and jagged rock platforms. It is a natural obstacle course, forged by an inland sea over three hundred and fifty million years ago, and now surrendering itself back into the waves as a result of Global Warming.
This is the road less travelled. A place that humans rarely visit. A place where animals and plants are free to grow and prosper, unhindered by human contact. The rock-pools are filled with shrimp and small fish, that flit away under the slightest provocation. The cliffs are home to large colonies of rock doves and fulmars. The sea shore is a feeding ground for curlews and redshank and oystercatchers to name but a few. Gannets can be seen hitting the sea at breakneck speed. A small relative of the jackdaw - the endangered, red-beaked chough - dances in the air when strong winds blow in from the sea. If you are really lucky you will see some of the coast’s rarer inhabitants: lizards, stoats, seals and otters. And in the summer the place comes alive, as the flowers of Sea-Pink and Sea-Campion explode into bloom. This is a natural history museum right on our front doorstep.
But there is a difference. Museums are rarely dangerous places, and our seashore can be treacherous. Every year, fatal accidents occur that are testimony to this fact. So it is wise to take a few precautions before you go out to explore the sea-shore. The most important piece of information you can have is contained in a small booklet, available at any outdoor shop. These are the tide tables, and they tell you the times of high-tide and low-tide for every day of the year. In general you have just three hours in any one day – two hours before low-tide and one hour afterwards, and to go out at any other time is foolhardy in the extreme, as you risk getting cut off by the waves. You should also bring along a good pair of boots, as the rocks and the seaweed are continuously conspiring to trip you up. You also need a torch, a whistle and a brightly coloured jacket, just in case you get into trouble and need to be rescued. If you have to stay out there for longer than you expect, bring along a packed lunch and a warm change of clothes. And finally, tell someone where you are going, and how long you will be. By taking these simple precautions, you are helping to avoid a small problem becoming a major disaster.
Now, you would think that, because we Irish are an island people, that we would have a great respect and affinity for our seashores. However, the reverse is the case. We think about it rarely, and care about it even less. So there are dangers. There is a danger from property developers, who think nothing about disrupting an entire ecosystem in order to build the latest golf-course or a new hotel. There is a danger from land-owners, who want to fence off the seashore for their own purposes, thus depriving the rest of us of a vital, natural amenity. And then there is a danger from polluters, and by polluters I mean anybody who treats our coastline like a gigantic waste pit. Every year they cause gross acts of environmental damage with impunity. Raw sewage and chemicals to poison our fish; plastic bags and tin-cans to choke and maim our larger animals. So we must be vigilant. Because, if we are not, the seashore and our access to it will be very different in twenty years time. As the Joni Mitchell song goes – "You won’t know what you’ve got, 'til it’s gone".
Our seashore is a beautiful place, it is a fascinating place, it is a treacherous place and it is a very vulnerable place. The next time you are down at the seaside, take a walk along our rocky shore. Look around, listen to the sounds and breath in the experience. This narrow sliver of rock between the land and the sea is the last outpost of unspoilt wilderness remaining in this country. We have a duty to look after it and to protect it for the sake of our children.
