Despite being warned not to risk the incoming tide, the off-duty police officer was confident he could make it back to the mainland.
The officer was reported to have denied it. It is to frighten the tourists.
He was standing on the roof of his VW Golf car with a rescue helicopter above him, with a helicopter swooping in to save him and his family.
The link between Holy Island and the English coastline is temporarily severed when the tides cascade across the causeway.
It still comes as a surprise for some.
The road leading to Holy Island, also known as Lindisfarne, has seen a growing number of stranded visitors.
Some escape their cars and scramble up steps to a safety hut perched above sea level, while others seek shelter from the cold waters of the North Sea by clambering onto the roofs of their vehicles.
A picture of a half-submerged SUV is beneath a sign that says "This could be you".
The increasing number of emergencies is concerning to those who respond to the calls. It's a point of irritation.
If you have a high tide mid- to late afternoon, you can almost set your watch by the time your bleeper goes off, asking you to go and fish someone out.
There is a person named Lindisfarne.
A Buddhist monk, a top executive from a Korean car company, and a family with a newborn baby are just some of the people who have been saved by the tide.
They all had the same desire to visit a scenic island that is believed to be the cradle of Christianity.
The Lindisfarne Gospels, the most important surviving illuminated manuscript from Anglo- Saxon England, were produced here.
The ruins of a priory, with its rainbow arch, still stand, as does a Tudor castle.
Hundreds of seals can be seen congregating on a sandbank when the sea is low.
Holy Island didn't have a road until the causeway was built. There are no statistics on the number of incidents or the cost of rescue.
He thinks that the increase is due to more vacationers staying in Britain. Many people live inland and are not familiar with the tides.
At low tide, the causeway is set back from the waves, but it quickly disappears under a sheet of water.
Ryan Douglas, the senior coastal operations officer in Northumberland for Britain's Coast Guard, which is in charge of maritime search and rescue, said that the risk seems low because you can see where you are going.
He said the water looks shallow but it gets deeper as you cross a quarter of a mile.
People who are trapped have to be helped out of their cars. The vehicle was held down by the Coast Guard so it wouldn't fall from the causeway and capsize.
Thepilgrim's way is a path that spans across the sand and mud for hundreds of years and can be difficult to navigate. A group of religious people were rescued in May when some found themselves wading up to their chest.
Louise was raised on Lindisfarne and knew the risks of the journey. She said that the tide came in very quickly. People think they can make it if they drive quickly.
Islanders don't like people who get caught by the tides and see their cars damaged.
George Douglas is a retired fisherman who was born on the island in 1939.
Mr. Douglas said that Holy Island has changed a lot in his lifetime. Half of the people in the country don't work.
The chairman of the Holy Island parish council, which is the lowest tier of Britain's local government, said that a bridge or tunnel would be expensive.
Barriers are one of the cheaper solutions discussed. People living on the island are concerned that barriers could stop emergency vehicles from crossing the island.
The tides dictate when people can leave the island and Mr. Coombes changed his mind when he met his wife. He admitted that he was a prisoner for some time.
When tourism ends, Mr. Coombes likes the winter chill. The island came back to the locals during the coronaviruses scare.
He didn't want to make light of the Pandemic but it was lovely.
The island is dependent on tourism. The community of around 150 people couldn't sustain two hotels, two pubs, a post office and a school without it.
The priory ruins, built in the 16th century, and the castle, built in the 20th century, can be visited by visitors.
Tourists need to time the tides and navigate the causeway.
Ian Morton was sitting on an island bench looking at the imposing castle and said he had taken care to arrive before the last safe time to cross. The day before, it was listed as 3:20.
On a recent morning, vans could be seen crossing the causeway a full 90 minutes before the tide was supposed to have gone down.
Mr. Morton is an internal auditor and so he risks averse. He pondered the dilemma behind the recent costly miscalculations.
If you got there at 3:51 or 3:52? Mr. Morton made a statement. I think you could get across at 3:51, but I don't know when.