We motored to Somerset yesterday and pitched our tent in an orchard at a tiny “Green” campsite jut outside Clevedon.

There’s rain forecast from midday so we’re up early and parked up in Highbridge and ready to go before 9am.  Wander between the river and the houses to Highbridge Clyce where we crossed back in May.  The coast path signs take us down an extremely narrow alleyway which gets more and more unkempt as we go but finally emerges by the river Brue just before it reaches the river Parrett and Bridgwater Bay.

It’s a busy towpath this Saturday morning with the tail end of Park Run – volunteers are cheering along the last few joggers and walers and tidying away the signs.  A gentleman on a bicycle passes us by, a trailer pulled behind bearing the words “Aliens are Harvesting our Sun” and a rake.  We discover him on the beach near the coastal defences at the end of the estuary – scribing, very neatly his message in the sand.

Wandering into Burnham on sea we follow the sandy bay with only a handful of people appreciating the smooth sandy beach and tiny lapping waves.  We pull ourselves away briefly to hunt down breakfast which we find in a bakers in the bustling high street a few roads in from the seafront.  We return to the seafront to enjoy our sausage and bacon baps sitting near the pier.  The man with his rake has moved on and is spreading the word on this beach now.

It’s 10:30 and time to take off my boots and socks as we have a long sandy beach ahead of us and the tide is heading out.  For the next two hours we stride our way along the beach going in and out of the sea, squelching through the occasional sinky sand.

The wooden lighthouse on stilts sitting right in the sand is intriguing and very photogenic especially when we discover the read stripe painted on the seaward side.

I’m captivated by a flock of sandpipers at the edge of the waves pecking in the sand then running along as the waves break, taking it in turns to fly away to a new patch.  A cormorant looks like he wants to join in the fun but is then content to sit and watch.

An hour into our sandy stroll there is a car park right on the beach, marked out by wooden stakes in the sand, further on the lifeguards have set out their flags for a swimming zone, but despite the rain not yet appearing, it’s quiet on the beach and in the sea.

Two hours into the stroll and we’re nearing the end of Berrow Flats. We stop at some steps just off the beach, searching for shelter (yes, the forecasted rain is now coming down) by a caravan park to try and clean the sand from our feet and pull our socks and boots over our clammy feet.

We speed up now and are delighted to discover a National Trust café. Grabbing a hot drink, we make our way upstairs to a delightful book shop/ tea room with view both sides.  We take a well-earned break and spread the map out to see where’s next?

The steep steps up the side of Brean Down are as steep as we had imagined, but it’s virtually the only hill of this week’s holiday, so we take it with oomph.  Despite our puffs and pants, we are soon on top of the tongue like peninsula of Brean Down, which we’ve been heading towards all morning.  From here we can admire the view looking back across Bridgwater Bay towards Hinckley Point.

It’s been a very dry summer, particularly in the west of the country and it really shows with the grass, scrub and even some of the trees turned shades of brown.  As we reach the top, looking towards the point we can see derelict buildings.  A young boy with his family warns us of ghosts.  Although we see no ghosts the interpretation boards tell us some history of Brean Down fort, including some secrets. This included trials of a ‘bouncing bomb’ and an ‘expendable noise-maker’.  The work of graffiti artists brings some of the stark concrete walls to life.

The rain starts to fall as we amble back down the Weston Bay side of the peninsula.  Speeding up, we pass a group of walkers and a small herd of cows (bizarrely restricted in movement by GPS collars) and find a narrow path down to Brean Down Farm.

Here our hopes of walking along the edge of the river estuary are dashed by a sign saying “England Coast Path 16May to 15July” – we are six weeks too late!  We have no choice but to take the road back towards the National Trust café then back along the road to Brean.

From the sandy beach this morning we had no idea there were so many caravan parks here.  It’s a particularly miserable walk along the road – my feet are hurting, I’m completely soaked, despite my raincoat and we have to keep stopping for cars to pass so that they don’t splash us from the massive puddles.

Thankfully we find a bus stop at the village hall and have just a few minutes to wait and some chatty people to pass the time with before jumping on the bus back to Burnham-on-sea.  It’s time to dry off and warm up in the cinema before heading back to our tent.