The spring equinox is the time of year the dog and I look forward to the most. Not for the longer days, spring growth or sudden abundance of insects, but for the equinoctial or ‘great’ tides, which are more extreme than the average throughout the year.
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So, high tides are higher but low tides are lower. This means, at low tide, we can walk along the beach from Hove to Brighton much further out than we usually can, so there are no concrete groynes to block our path or climb over, and sand instead of the customary pebbles.
The dog is obsessed with sand, which is unfortunate given the usual pebbly nature of our beaches. But on the spring equinox she gets to run around for hours, while I explore bits of beach that aren’t normally there, and relish the feeling of being ‘out at sea’.
We have two equinoxes per year: the spring equinox is usually around 20th March, while the autumn equinox is around 22nd September.
At these times, our planet is positioned exactly so that the equator faces the sun. This means daytime and nighttime are approximately the same length all over the world – roughly 12 hours.
This is also around the time (though within a couple of days) that the sun rises in the North Pole and sets in the South Pole. It is genuine mathematical magic.
Because the equator faces the sun, the tides are more powerful during an equinox, as the sun exerts a stronger pull on Earth than the rest of the year.
If the moon is also in alignment the tides are even higher, as the water is pulled by both sun and moon. In Brighton, the difference in height between high tide and low tide is usually around 2m but, around the equinoxes, it can be up to 7m.
The height of high tides can be dangerous, particularly during a storm, as storm tides can breach sea walls when already high. And in Brighton, the pebbles are thrown onto the promenade, where they damage beach huts and even smash windows.
In recent storms, the combined forces of storm tide and pebbles knocked over bins, destroyed walls and threw benches several metres away from where they were screwed down.
This can be quite scary to witness, not least the aftermath, which requires so much cleaning up. But low tides are the exact opposite: calm and serene. They’re beautiful.
Sometimes the equinoctial low tides fall at the respectable time of around 9am, but at other times they occur earlier, often just before sunrise. I set an alarm for these low tides and head out with the dog so we arrive to the rising sun, the sky pink and green-blue as the night fades.
We start in Southwick, just west of Hove, and walk east towards Brighton in front of the huge groynes and ‘keep out’ signs that usually stop us. It’s incredibly beautiful, often with an orange rising sun lighting our way.
We meet other dog walkers doing the same as us, along with people collecting worms in giant buckets to use as fishing bait, and treasure hunters with metal detectors looking for rare finds in the sand. But it’s still quieter than at other times of day.
We jump over bubbling tidal pools, marvel at crabs and sand mason worms, and leave footprints that will disappear within minutes, not to be made again for six months.
Access to the beach for dogs is restricted during the autumn equinox, so we are treated to this event only once a year. It’s frustrating but perhaps better this way.
Less access makes the moments more special. For a few days each spring, we experience a part of the world that’s usually hidden from view. We love it.
Illustration by Holly Exley
