THE SPURN 



A NARROW ridge of sandhills, a natural break- 

 water for Grimsby, Immingham, and other ports, 

 runs for some three miles between the Humber and the 

 sea. A little to the north the restless waves are eating 

 their way into the crumbling brown cliffs, which scarcely 

 rise 20 feet above the shore. A fine beacon, a day land- 

 mark, stands over 500 yards inland of its submerged 

 predecessor, and dated houses are also marked with the 

 distance from the sea when they were built. One of these 

 near the beacon now stands empty and condemned; the 

 tide broke through its frail barriers, burst open its door, 

 and forced the occupants to seek refuge in the upper 

 story, whence they were rescued through a window. 

 During exceptional tides the sea and Humber meet north 

 of Kilnsea, and for three days practically all communica- 

 tion was cut off from the mainland during one of my 

 visits, for the tide is landlocked by the walls, and another 

 tide is up before the water has drained off. The walls, 

 though broken in places, permitted passage for the ener- 

 getic postman, but no one else troubled to go through. 

 The clay beach, thinly covered with drift sand and gravel, 

 shows where cliffs once stood; in the Humber miles of 

 level " clays," slippery and often sticky to walk on, 

 cover the sites of the lost villages of Holderness; the 

 curlew and grey plover whistle where once the fields were 

 tilled and a large population travelled dryshod and were 

 securely housed. 



At Spurn Head, where the ridge widens out and ends, 

 there is a small but important official colony, familiar 



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