Finding quiet coastal paths in summer

An early start is the whole trick

On a bright July morning, most of the coast is still asleep at half past six. The car park has three cars in it, the gulls are arguing over something on the tideline, and the path ahead is yours. By eleven, that same path will have a queue at the stile and a dog off the lead in the middle of a nesting colony. The difference between a crowded coastal walk and a quiet one is rarely the place. It is the hour.

Aim to be walking by 7am, or failing that, after 5pm. Light is softer, the wind is often lighter, and the wildlife is far more active. Check the tide table the night before and work out your window: on many stretches the best walking is two hours either side of low water, when firm sand and exposed rock make the going easy and you can round headlands that are cut off at high tide. Spring tides drain further but also fill faster, so give yourself a generous margin on the way back. Never let the sea get behind you on a beach with a cliff at your back.

Choosing a stretch that stays quiet

Popular resorts are popular for a reason, and none of those reasons involve solitude in August. Instead, look at the gaps between them. On a large-scale map, hunt for stretches where the coast road turns inland, where the lane ends in a dead end rather than a car park, and where the nearest café is a good two kilometres' walk away.

• Estuary mouths and tidal creeks are usually quieter than open bays, and rich in wading birds.
• Long shingle beaches with no facilities are often far emptier than the sand beach a mile along.
• Stretches backed by low farmland rather than caravan parks or holiday parks tend to have less foot traffic.
• Cliff-top paths with no beach access below them deter the bucket-and-spade crowd.
• Headlands that add a steep climb will halve the numbers you meet, every time.

If you arrive and find twenty cars, don't abandon the day — walk half a mile in either direction and you will usually leave almost everyone behind.

Cliff paths, nesting birds and cliffside etiquette

Between March and the end of July, our cliffs are a nursery. Fulmars, kittiwakes, guillemots, razorbills and sometimes puffins crowd the ledges, while peregrines and ravens nest on inland crags. Herring gulls raise chicks on rooftops and cliff tops and will dive at anything that comes close in July — a hard hat is not required, but a brisk walk through is.

The rules are simple and worth repeating. Stay on the path, even where a shortcut looks tempting; trampled cliff-edge vegetation leads to erosion, and the ground beneath it is often undercut. Keep dogs on a short lead on any cliff or beach section during nesting season, both for the birds and for the dog's sake. Do not fly drones near cliffs. If a bird starts alarm-calling, circling or swooping, you are too close — back off the way you came, quietly. And never attempt to rescue a grounded chick; move away and let the parents return.

What to carry, and what to wear

Coastal walking is deceptive. A flat-looking path can turn into a crumbling descent, and the sun off water is far stronger than it feels on land.

• Water: at least 1.5 litres per person for a half-day, two litres in a heatwave. There are rarely taps on the cliff path.
• Sun protection: SPF 30 or higher, reapplied every two hours, plus a wide-brimmed hat, sunglasses and lip balm. Reflected light from sea and shingle burns the underside of the chin and nose.
• Layers: a windproof shell and a light fleece. Sea breezes can drop the temperature several degrees within minutes.
• Footwear: grippy soles with ankle support. Wet clay and loose shingle are the two great ankle-turners of the coast.
• Kit: paper map and compass, charged phone, tide table, small first aid kit, and a snack. A tick check at the end of the day is sensible if you have crossed rough grassland.

Gardening with salt and wind

If you garden within a mile of the sea, you are gardening in a wind tunnel with a salt spray attachment. Shelter comes first, planting second. A windbreak hedge — holm oak, escallonia, griselinia or sea buckthorn — will do more for your borders than any amount of feeding. Until it grows, netting or a slatted screen on the prevailing side makes the difference between plants that survive and plants that thrive.

Choose grey and silver foliage, which shrugs off salt: sea lavender, sea campion, thrift, cotton lavender, rosemary and lavender. Hardy geraniums, fuchsia and crocosmia cope well in the lee of a wall. Mulch with gravel or shingle to stop wind stripping moisture from the soil, and use well-rotted seaweed as a traditional autumn dressing — rinse it first if you are worried about salt. Water deeply and less often, in the evening, and grow anything tender in pots you can move behind shelter for winter.

Reading the maritime heritage as you go

Half the pleasure of these quiet paths is what they tell you. A squat stone tower on the headland is likely an old coastguard lookout. Circular stone-lined hollows near a creek may be lime kilns, where limestone was burned with coal brought in by boat. Slipways, capstans and rectangular walled basins mark old havens and fish cellars; a line of white-painted posts in a field might be a wreck marker or a parish boundary.

Look, photograph, and leave it all where it lies. Loose stones from a drystone wall, a fragment of pottery, a lump of ships' ballast — these belong to the place, not to the pocket. Walk out quietly, walk back quietly, and the coast will keep its character for the next early riser.