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Between Seaton and Beer, the coastline doesn’t simply stretch — it tells a story. From above, the land seems to slowly surrender to the sea, and the pale, fractured cliffs read like open pages of an ancient book. This is part of the Jurassic Coast, where time is measured not in years, but in millions. Seaton lies gently at the edge of the water. From the air, it feels calm and orderly: a long promenade, a wide shingle beach, the River Axe quietly meeting the sea. It’s an open, breathing landscape — a place of beginnings. The horizon is broad here, the sea expansive and unguarded. Moving west, the coast begins to rise and grow wilder. Fields end abruptly at sheer drops, footpaths trace the cliff edges, and the rock shifts in colour from soft greys to chalky white. The cliffs of Beer Head stand tall and austere, sculpted by wind and waves, like silent guardians of the land. Then Beer appears — small, tucked into its cove, almost hidden until the last moment. From above, the village seems to spill down the hillside toward the shore. Narrow streets, stone cottages, and a pebble beach lined with fishing boats give the place a timeless feel. This is a village shaped by the sea, not for spectacle, but for everyday life. This short stretch of coast feels cinematic. Calm and drama exist side by side: open water and quiet towns contrasted with rugged cliffs and restless waves. Flying along the shoreline, you sense an ongoing conversation between land and sea — one that has been unfolding here for thousands of years.