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Posted on 23rd July, 2026 in Events

Coastal Caves and a Puffin Plushie

My next book featuring the druid Abria will be set in Iron Age Orkney. Unable to get to Orkney at present, I decided to go on a field trip to somewhere closer to me that also has a dramatic coastline: RSPB Bempton Cliffs. It was an ideal choice, particularly as birds feature heavily in my work. The idea was to visit a coastal environment to gather details I could use in my book and not, of course, a jaunt away from my computer.

Glorious weather brought out the crowds. Gulls and guillemots seemed to show off as they coasted over my head then out to the North Sea, as I followed a sandy track towards fenced lookouts on the clifftops. The air was filled with the smell of bird droppings—slightly sweet and bitter but not as unpleasant an odour as I’d imagined. Distant birds were specks of white as they zoomed between the cliffs and the sea.

I stopped an arm’s length from a jackdaw that was perched on a fence. Although smaller, it reminded me of Abria’s bonded crow. I was delighted to get so close, then realised it had its bright eyes on a family picnicking behind me, and was probably hoping for scraps.

The lookouts offered great views of the coastline, and from their vantage points the cries of thousands of birds seemed louder. Ledges zigzagged up chalk cliffs, and were crowded with guillemots, razorbills, and gannets, like avian tenement blocks. I thought I saw a puffin, then realised, from the way its beak was shaped like an old-fashioned razor, that it was a razorbill. As I returned to the visitor centre, the call of kittiwakes overhead sounded just like their name. The cliffs were pockmarked with nooks and crannies, and I was told the area’s famed for smugglers caves—good to know when writing about a character who might need somewhere to hide.

The sunny setting seemed a far cry from the moody landscape I’m planning for Abria, but it was a step in the right direction. The area also teemed with insects, which was great for the nesting birds—I put my bag on the grass once and bugs immediately leapt on it. Before leaving I shut my car door on the incessant wind, then hurriedly opened it to let out a wasp that had followed me in. Living closer to the land, Iron Age people must have been less squeamish about insects—in comparison, our lives today seem sterile.

And the puffin plushie? It currently peeks at me from my sofa and was bought because I didn’t see the real thing, and obviously not for myself. Perhaps I’ll spot a real puffin on my next visit.