Lucy Williamson and William McLennan in Calais and Dungeness

The migrants' brutal journey across the English Channel ends with beaches that tell crisis stories: from guerrilla smuggling in the dunes of France to soaking passengers ashore in Kent.

Hidden in the bushes of the dunes in northern France are the business cards of the international crime industry: abandoned life jackets, rucksacks, gasoline cans.

This is a complex enough industry to commission specially crafted ships and transport them to the EU border, but it is rough enough to hide customers in the bushes for several hours before packing them on board.

On Wednesday, 27 people were confirmed dead after their inflatable boat capsized-the worst tragedy since the beginning of these ferry crossings. But on the next morning, more ships left the northern coast of France for England, crowded with people, and were not deterred by the terrorist incident that happened the day before.

Newcomers to the camps here will get tips on how to find their human smugglers. A young man who had just arrived from Afghanistan was told twice a week to look for "Kurds" who wandered during the food distribution. No one who has spoken to the BBC has encountered any problems and can find someone to take them there.

Smuggling networks often use immigrants themselves to manage local logistics. These are one-time residents of refugee camps in northern France. They are disappointed by the challenge of going out. They just want to make money or still have the hope of leaving and need to be on board.

They are used as observation decks, hidden at intervals along the coast, sometimes hidden a few days before crossing. They noted the movements of the security forces and reminded smuggler colleagues when passengers needed to get out of their hiding places and run along the beach to the sea.

Earlier in the day, those in hiding would be told to leave their camp. Then they usually meet at a secret meeting point, and then travel long distances to the coast-during which the immigrants say, there are strict regulations on behavior, calls, and mobile phones-and end up with a long wait in the sand dunes.

These hideouts are spread all over the coast-not only in the sand dunes, but also in patches of woodland and concrete shelters left over from the Second World War. They were piled up with items left behind by previous passengers.

On Friday, signs of life were everywhere at Plage du Braek, a popular starting point between Calais and Dunkirk. A few tarpaulins. A pink trainer, half buried in the sand. An abandoned tent is nestled between the sand dunes, surrounded by plastic juice bottles.

A man who used to work for smugglers—we call him David—explained that every smuggler has his favorite hiding place. "They waited until the last minute, and then took the passengers to the beach one by one, hiding them behind rocks or trees."

David said that until the last moment, the ship and the passengers were kept separate, not to protect the people, but to protect the ship in case they were discovered by the police, who might confiscate or destroy it. The crafts themselves are usually shipped from Germany or Belgium to help avoid French police scrutiny. It is said that many of the networks here include EU residents as members, and they can easily cross the border into France.

According to the police, these boats are usually specially commissioned-long and basic inflatable boats designed to accommodate as many people as possible. Their simple structure makes them particularly dangerous. If the shell is punctured, dividing the inflatable container into compartments will help limit any damage and air loss. Smugglers usually don’t bother to reinforce the bottom of the ship with solid slabs, which means that the ship will collapse when it deflates, as a French minister put it, like a “child’s paddling pool”.

Everyone knows the risks. Many people in the camp use apps on their phones to predict the daily weather conditions in the strait. Waves over a meter high mean real danger. But few people are frightened, and those who are frightened find themselves facing a dilemma. These networks want to get paid, and there are reports that if customers change their minds, they will threaten customers.

There are several networks linking to different communities and camps. And they are often in fierce competition. A local mayor told the BBC that turf wars had become so intense in the past year that some smugglers began to carry guns.

David said that the pricing system has a dark side.

"Some people will ask women who want to cross to have sex." And those poor immigrants who can only make up the asking price will take old, overcrowded boats at the end of the good weather season, at the risk of crossing. Will rise.

As French security forces increase patrols, the risk will only increase. The government here now says it blocked more than half of the border crossing attempts.

But patrols are carried out by different teams, depending on the area and time: military police and police; reserve soldiers and professional soldiers. They blame each other is a normal feature of police work here. The BBC has been patrolling the troops passing through the sand dunes. They are talking and laughing, waving bright torches everywhere, and there are those who are silent, disciplined and focused.

But they face more immigrant groups than before—up to 80 or 90 people at a time, a security officer tells us—and they often become more aggressive. Smugglers know that patrols cannot intervene at the border crossing point, otherwise it would endanger their lives. "Just get into the water," they told the passengers, "you are basically in the UK."

Some patrols on land will wade into shallow waters and pull ships back to shore, but once at sea, ships that are not dangerous will only be monitored by the French Coast Guard when sailing into British waters.

The French authorities will provide assistance to anyone in distress, but the British Border Forces Union told the BBC that immigrants are often unwilling to receive assistance when in French waters because they are afraid of being taken back to French territory.

Once the strait’s mid-line demarcation line is crossed, migrants are usually happy to be rescued. The Dover Coast Guard is responsible for the control, usually sending border guard ships and RNLI lifeboats. The migrants were helped to climb onto the deck, curled up under blankets and beanies, preparing for their last stop in England.

However, on busy days, British fishermen are often the first to appear on the scene inadvertently.

"This is something that happens every day," said Jerry Oller, who has operated a chartered fishing boat off the coast of Kent for more than three decades. Earlier this year, he spotted two men on an inflatable canoe about four miles from the coast. "The boat capsized and we had a job to get them back to their original condition, but we managed to get them out," he said. "It's like a child's inflatable toy," he said. "They didn't bring anything, only two small pink oars."

These people from French Guiana told Mr. Oller that they had been at sea for more than 24 hours.

After tethering the canoe next to his boat Fairchance, he called the Coast Guard and made a cup of sweet black coffee for the couple while waiting for the Border Force’s boat to appear.

Most of the approximately 37,000 migrants who have entered British waters since 2018 were intercepted at sea and landed directly in a safe area in the Port of Dover-known as Tug Haven. These big tents and temporary buildings were basically obscured from public view. They were supposed to only be used for people to live for a few hours, but the inspectors found that more and more immigrants were forced to spend the night there. Most people apply for asylum here, and then are scattered across the country to wait for a full evaluation and decision.

However, some small boats ran aground on British beaches without assistance. In the past two years, approximately 1,600 ships have arrived in British waters, and dozens of them have landed along the coastline from Jos Bay near Margate in the east to Hastings in the west.

Most landed in Dungeness, the southernmost point of Kent. This nose-shaped headland that extends into the English Channel has been built at sea for thousands of years, and for any ship that is blown west of Dover, it will be the closest point on the horizon.

Mr. Ole’s family has been fishing in Dungeness for generations. From the door of his chaotic hut, he could see the impact on the local lifeboat crew. "They went out seven times a day last week," he said.

He said that changing arrival patterns have also made this task more difficult and dangerous. Where the small boats used to arrive at noon in the morning, they are now appearing throughout the day as the boats depart from France more and more late.

He said that the size of ships has also increased, usually up to 30 feet (9 meters) or more in length.

The BBC's analysis of Home Office data found that the average number of people on each ship has risen sharply. In 2020, each ship will carry an average of 13 passengers. This year, this number has more than doubled to 28 people. In other words, although the number of ships arriving in British waters has increased by 47%, the number of ships arriving in the UK has increased by more than 200%.

Number of arrivals from the French coast by boat

Mr. Ole believes that risks are also rising. "If you pile up a lot of people, if there is an accident, it is more likely to be a major accident," he said.

Those who reach Dungeness will see a steep rocky bank that slopes to the foreshore. On calm days, the water looks like a mirrored mill pond. But the weather here may deteriorate drastically.

"This is a land full of extremes," said local artist Helen Gillilan. "We are sailing on the sea, and if we have wind, we will get a huge wind. The nature here is so strong. You can really feel it."

The simple landscape of tiles and bushes is home to two nuclear power plants, but it also has a vast, insect-rich nature reserve. "When they land here, they must want to know where they are," she said. "It's like anywhere else in this country, it's not very British."

From the window of her studio, Ms. Gilliland could see “the crowd that is familiar now walking along the long shingles to the lifeboat station”. Despite the high frequency, she is not numb. "They got nothing, it really shocked me," she said. "this is too scary."

Residents have become accustomed to seeing dozens of damp and wind-blown people-usually including young children-waiting outside the lifeboat station for a hastily arranged coach to take them to Dover or other places in Kent. Ministry of Interior facilities.

On a sunny day earlier this year, a resident told the BBC that she saw a striking sight: on one side of the road, a group of immigrants were waiting for the border troops to be transported, and on the other side, a car The children in the carriage are visiting the school.

The naked scenery has attracted many artists, including the late film director Derek Jarman, who, like the nuclear reactor, has almost become synonymous with Dungeness. Decades after his death, hordes of believers still go to his former residence in Prospect Cottage.

However, this year, many coaches who left Dungenesse brought different types of tourists, desperately seeking a better life and risking their lives to cross the European border.

Additional reporting by Toby Luckhurst in Loon Plage

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