Every year, coastal rescue teams are called out to walkers who thought they could outpace the sea. The arithmetic is unforgiving. On a spring tide across a big estuary, the water can advance across flat sand at something close to the pace of a brisk walk, and it arrives quietly, often from behind you and often across ground that looked safely dry only minutes earlier. Morecambe Bay, the Dee, the Wash, the Solway and the long flat beaches of north Norfolk and the Gower are classic traps because the sea spreads over a huge area at once rather than creeping in as a tidy line.
Read the tide table for the specific stretch you are walking, not for the nearest large town. Tide times shift by minutes per mile along a coastline, and inside estuaries and behind headlands they can differ by an hour or more. Know the height of the tide as well as the time: a 1.2 metre high water is a very different proposition from an 8 metre one.
Cliff tops are not as solid as they look. Coastal erosion, winter rain and drying cracks work away at the edge year round, and the bit that gives way is frequently a metre or two inland of the visible lip. In soft geology — glacial boulder clay, chalk, sandstone and the crumbling shales of the east coast — whole sections can go without warning. The safest rule is simple: keep back a distance at least equal to the height of the cliff, and further if the ground is cracked, undercut, or recently wet.
Coastal weather is a law unto itself. Sea fog can swallow a headland in twenty minutes, and a clear morning can turn into a wet, windy afternoon with little notice. Wind is the thing most walkers underestimate: on an exposed clifftop or wave-cut platform it will slow you down, chill you quickly once you stop, and make a rocky descent far more serious than it looked from the car park.
Leave a route plan with someone who will notice if you do not come back. Give them the start point, the finish, the path you intend to take and a time you will check in. A rough sketch on a scrap of paper is worth more than a vague promise.
The best coastal walkers are the ones who turn back early. If the tide is further in than you expected, if the path is sliding into the sea, if the wind is knocking you off balance or the fog has closed in, that is the moment to change the route — not the moment to press on because the pub is two miles away. Call for help sooner rather than later; nobody minds a false alarm, and a call made in daylight from a dry spot is far easier than one made in the dark from a ledge.
Coastal walking in the UK is one of the great pleasures of being outdoors here, and it is not remotely dangerous when you give the tide, the cliffs and the weather the respect they have earned. Check the tables, keep back from the edge, tell someone where you are going, and carry the means to call for help. Then enjoy it — that is what the path is for.