WET AND WILD

No doors, no roof, no boot, but at least there's a windscreen... Paul Horrell pulls on his waterproof trousers and takes the Nomad 2 for a spin

- PAUL HORRELL

Mariners will always respect the sea. In difficult times they’ll be in blind fear of its implacable power. An incoming tide is a landlubber’s window on its power. As King Cnut predicted. When the waters are approaching from both sides the fear is doubled and more. One of the most relatably terrifying episodes in scripture follows the parting of the Red Sea for Moses to lead his people through. The divinely created causeway closes afterward, drowning their chasing persecutors... “And the waters returned, and covered the chariots, and the horsemen, and all the host of Pharaoh that came into the sea.”

In comparison, today’s TopGear jeopardy is trivial. It’s neap tides, the gentlest ones, and a blissfully calm day as we traverse the Holy Island causeway. This road is the lifeline to the fishing village on the Northumberland outcrop of Lindisfarne. It’s a tourist honeypot too, with up to 3,000 vehicles crossing daily during the intervals when the waters don’t cover the road. And of course tide tables give full predictability of safe crossing times. Brutally stern notices warn against risking it when the waters are lapping over the tarmac on an incoming tide. Partway along, a refuge hut stand on stilts. Plenty of hapless drivers do indeed have to climb the ladder, huddle in the hut, and watch the rising salt water slowly drown their car.

We take the early morning window to drive onto the island. We’re pretty much the sole visitors. A tang of salt is in the air, the fishermen land their haul, and however eerie this would be in a winter mist, today’s bright glassy sunlight blinds me to much sense of the spirits of St Cuthbert and the early Christians and raiding Vikings. Four hours later, the tide has nearly fallen enough to uncover the causeway. A mile-plus queue, largely camper vans, has formed on the mainland side waiting to cross.