At times it can be easy to forget just how wild Britain, England especially, can be. You never seem to be too far from a village, town, city (and pub), there are no wolves, bears, bison, musk oxen like the rest of the northern European continent. Britain, however, makes up for this in sheer spectacle.

The coastlines of Britain often have their beauty overshadowed in favour of seaside resorts and day trips to the amusements, but off the beaten track are some truly stunning spots. Just inside East Yorkshire, not fifteen minutes beyond the border with the North Riding, sits Bempton village, an unassuming hamlet surrounded by flat fields on all sides. A bumpy, single-track road leads out of Bempton, seemingly heading nowhere special, on the horizon lies only the North Sea. Ending the track, however, is an RSPB nature reserve, Bempton Cliffs.

A minimal fee and a short walk later, I was stood at a cliff edge, awestruck. Some 80,000 (you read that right) gannets swooped and circled below or clung to precarious white cliffs. Joining them were huge herring gulls and nimble kittiwakes, all screeching and vying for what few outcroppings were left without tenants. Parents nursed their chicks, most of which were now fledging in the mid-summer, stretching their wings and hopping on occasion as practice.

A gliding gannet. © Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth

Thousands of seabirds flock around a coastal door. © Matthew Walsh / Finding Earth

Boards around the reserve listed the multitude of common visitors, the most famous of which arguably being puffins. Wildlife photographers head to this spot from around the country hoping to catch a shot of the tiny, colourfully billed seabirds feasting on fish or poking a head out of their nests. Sadly, none showed during my time, unpredictable as is the nature of wildlife. The cliffs had something else in store for me though.

Strolling southwards, the sea on my left, snapping away with my camera at every passing gannet, I came across a viewpoint awash with telephoto lenses all focussed on the same point. Every photographer had their back to a stunning coastal door so I figured this must be something special. Nothing. They were all just pointing at a bare cliff. Was it the lone pigeon? Was it the nesting gannet? Surely not, there were thousands after all. I inspected closer, scanning for anything else at all, then I realised once a photographer commended the bravery of the lone pigeon. Just a few metres right, clung to a tiny outcropping was a bright yellow hooked beak. My eyes adjusted and there it was, the cameras’ target. A peregrine falcon. Completely unbothered by the thousands of seabirds, it remained motionless on the cliff as cameras took shot after shot.

I had come here expecting a few seabirds and a gentle coastal walk, but Bempton Cliffs had provided true spectacle on both a grand scale of thousands and a small scale of a lone cliffside raptor and all of this, just outside a tiny village in Yorkshire.