Tundra

At the end of February, the snow fell. And fell. The Pennine communities were snowed in with drifts higher than people. The passes were closed. The schools were closed. Even Seascale was reported to have seen snow.

Because I have always understood that it doesn't snow in Seascale, I have also understood that it doesn't snow by the sea. After my brother moved to Estonia and  I learnt that it snows by the sea there (and the sea freezes), I believed that it doesn't snow by our sea.

So, it rarely snows on the Solway coastal plain (up to and including Carlisle), and when it does snow, it isn't deep and doesn't stay long. I read something about snow on the marshes in the 1960s, and I was sceptical.

At one point on 28th February 2018, it was snowing at an inch an hour in my garden, settling at about four inches deep, or more in the little drifts. By the second day of being stuck at home, I had to escape the house and see just how close to the estuary the snow had fallen. No way was I driving down the lane - Swedish snowboots and a brisk walk would be required.

Drifts at the edge of the village	Field edge drifts
Farm lane - the milk wagon came along it a few minutes later	Lambs - we'd been surprised to see them a week earlier as they're born later in the central fells
The monument in the snow with snow across the marshes as far as I could see	Knee deep virgin drifts. I turned back at this point.
A beck, with partial ice covering	A creek, frozen
Microdrift

Marshes

Marshes

The path disappears into the snow sea.	The whiter lines are the creeks, filled with snow.

Astonishing being alone in the big flat white space - reminded me of being alone in the desert. And another reminder of how unusual this landscape is for this county. I didn't get to the sea - when the path disappeared, the risk of falling in a creek was high. But it looked as though the snow went right up to the tidal limit.

The following day, the thaw began, and by 4th March the garden was thawing so quickly I could almost watch it without timelapse photography. Driving to Wigton I decided to go via Glasson, partly because the roads were more likely to be ice-free and partly because it was the last chance to see the snow by the sea. I stopped at Drumburgh minutes after the highest tide of the week, having driven the sea road open mouthed.

	Danger: no bathing!

The wind was icy and I took these in about three minutes. As I took the last one, a yellow flood warning for Drumburgh came up on my phone screen, and it seemed like a good moment to move on. But I could now be certain that the snow really had gone right to the seashore.