Friday 17th January 2020

We walked into Whitby and just missed the early bus.  We hadn’t expected to catch that bus but it was about ten minutes late leaving.  We had a quick look at the marina in the early morning light.

We got the later bus and were soon back at Runswick Bay, taking the steep path to the beach.  We could see a stretch of sand but as we got closer we realised that the tempting strand could only be reached by a precarious scramble across rocks because the tide was too far in.

Discretion meant we took a tiny path through some scrub woodland where we got tangled on branches and undergrowth to emerge by the Runswick Bay Yacht Club onto the beach.  I guess it is a path used by people who get cut off by the tide.  We walked on along the beach where a well-placed sign told us that the exit from the beach was up the next gully which, in the absence of the sign, I would have doubted.  We got around the little headland despite the rising tide. The gully provided a narrow, slippery path shared by a stream until we reached some steps up to the cliff top.

The cliff top path provided some views through the persistent, drenching drizzle but the path was muddy just like yesterday.  We joined the course of an old railway line that ended at Sandsend and had serviced the allum mines at Kettleness and Sandsend.

Unfortunately the tide was well in and there was no sand at Sandsend.  The walk into Whitby was almost entirely on tarmac except for a short section through Whitby Golf Club.

Whitby is a bustling seaside town; with its beach, harbour and historical connections, it is a magnet for tourists even in the winter. 

We descended from the cliff top to the quay down ancient steep and narrow passageways.  Crossing the harbour via the swing bridge we headed for the abbey passing the many shops selling Whitby Jet. 

Once past the abbey we left the tourists behind and settled into a damp, muddy walk along the cliff path to Robin Hood’s Bay. 

We passed the Whitby Fog Horn and then the lighthouse, both now holiday cottages let by Trinity House.
Along the way there was more evidence of the former mining and quarrying and as we came into Robin Hood’s Bay, the coast path converged with the old railway line.

Robin Hood’s Bay is conveniently on a bus route and having missed the hourly bus by a few minutes we had a long wait for the next one. Fortunately a bus shelter provided refuge from the rain and we finished off our lunch and coffee as we peered into the dark looking for the bus. It was quite a short ride back to Whitby and the bus stopped right outside our hotel. We made use of the car to go into Whitby for a nice Italian meal.

 Thursday 16th January 2020 

The next section of the coast walk was planned to take us from Saltburn down to the Humber Bridge over ten days.  Jill decided to join me on my coast walk though we knew she was taking a bit of a chance since she had only had her knee cartilage operated on a couple of months ago and was still recuperating. 
The plan was to take the car to the start of the walk and at any stage each day, if things were getting too much for her, Jill could peel off at a suitable point and get a bus train or taxi back to collect the car and join me at the end of that day’s walk

The next section of the coast walk was planned to take us from Saltburn down to the Humber Bridge over ten days.  Jill decided to join me on my coast walk though we knew she was taking a bit of a chance since she had only had her knee cartilage operated on a couple of months ago and was still recuperating. 
The plan was to take the car to the start of the walk and at any stage each day, if things were getting too much for her, Jill could peel off at a suitable point and get a bus train or taxi back to collect the car and join me at the end of that day’s walk.

This is obviously an area much frequented by suicide jumpers.  Apart from the numerous memorials to the departed, there were frequent messages of hope and Samaritan contact numbers in the hopes of deterring more loss of life.  This had been a feature along all the high cliffs of the north-east but I had never seen quite so many as along this section of the walk.

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Over the first headland we dropped down to Skinningrove.  This appeared to have all the character and charm of an old pit village and in a sense that is true because ironstone mining started in 1848.  Though there was a small jetty this does not seem to have attracted small boats and so the village has failed to develop much in the way of shops or cafés.  The only interesting feature from the coast path is the restored Repus Boat sculpture.  A repus is a traditional fishing coble.

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High up on a flattish piece of sandstone was an inscription which could only have been written with the aid of a ladder or ropes.
Another touching message of love:

“Pauline in spring I saw you
Your eyes shone like dew
In summer we shared
A love we had so true
In autumn they told us
There is nothing we can do
It became winter when you left.
Ted”

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We climbed up to Galli Howe and continued around the headland past Boulby, home to the world’s only potash mine.  The mine site is surprisingly clean and tidy and certainly not a blot on the landscape we associate with the bad old days of coal mining that took place in the nearby area.  It is the second deepest mine in Europe extending down to between 1100 and 1400 metres.

The path, which is the Cleveland Way, continued around the cliffs and soon after noon we came into the  pretty village of Staithes with its picture postcard streets and houses closely packed towards the quay.  Lunch beckoned and it was quite a relief to settle down in a café for coffee and a scone out of the wind.

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We wanted to get on before rain arrived and the winds got even stronger; the BBC was forecasting winds of 45-50mph.  As it turned out the rain only lasted an hour and I don’t think the winds ever reached 50mph. The afternoon’s walk was mainly a case keeping heads down and slip-sliding along the Cleveland Way, relying heavily on our walking poles to keep us upright.

Back on the coast path we rounded the next headland and looking down to Port Mulgrave we could see a bizarre collection of boats and shacks. Jill renamed it Calvert Road-on-Sea.

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 We reached Runswick Bay with 45 minutes to wait for the bus, but a relatively cosy bus shelter allowed us to finish our flasks of coffee and clean some of the mud of our boots. The bus took as back to Saltburn just before darkness fell. We had a short drive to the Penny Hedge at Whitby which is an inexpensive chain hotel but with the luxury of a bath. 

Congratulations to Jill for surviving the first day.

Saturday 14th December 2019

Today was a shorter day of only about 15 miles and I was keen to get it done and get home to help Jill who was having problems with the boiler and had been having to heat the house with electric fires and the log burners. As I left the hotel at about 7.30, I was exchanging texts with Jill as she again tried to get the boiler to work but eventually she got too cold out in the bothy and gave up in favour of contacting Grant’s engineer on Monday – unless I could get the boiler going when I got home.

I set off back to the foot of the Transporter Bridge to pick up from where I finished yesterday. From there I walked past Middlesbrough Football Stadium with its statues to the Charltons and past the giant butterfly net sculpture by Anish Kapoor erected in 2010.

This section of the coast path is shared with the Teesdale Way and is occasionally marked by attractive,, cast sculptures of finger posts and walking boots.

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The next few miles were pretty dire and anyone who had started the Teesdale Way in the beauty of the high Pennines must have felt their walk was ending with neither a bang nor a whimper but more of a dying groan. The path threads its way through a jungle of industrial debris, sandwiched between the railway line and a pipeline. In one or two places there was evidence of  revitalised industry but, for the most part, it was a scene of decay. The path, though strewn with litter blown in and trapped between the fences was clearly little used. I met nobody and saw no evidence even of dog walkers passing this way; no piles of dog shit or even poop bags left strung on railings – a curious favourite activity of a certain class of dog walker.

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In many places the vertical metal and concrete palings that fenced in the path merged into a solid palisade creating a disturbing tunnel effect.

If you look at the map section above you will see that most of the industrial area to the south of the Tees is shaded pink and bounded by pink semi-circles. This is a new symbol and I was unable to find it on any of my paper maps. Foolishly I assumed that this is some sort of designated industrial area for redevelopment. When I looked it up on-line this was the definition: “All land within the “coastal margin” (where it already exists) is associated with the England Coast Path and is by default access land but in some areas contains land not subject to access rights – for example cropped land, buildings and their curtilage, gardens and land subject to local restrictions. Furthermore the coastal margin is often steep, unstable and not readily accessible. Please do not assume the shaded area is accessible and take careful note of conditions and local signage on the ground.”

Well, that is fairly comprehensive but does not suggest the shaded area might be acres of derelict industrial land.

For the most part there was nothing to distract me from my goal and so I kept up a steady pace and about two and a half hours after leaving the hotel I reached Redcar where the Teesdale Way ends with the final sculpture.

My route sneaked around the edge of Redcar to the beach at Coatham and what a pleasure it was to have a wide vista and a pleasant view.

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Apart from a short clamber over Redcar Rocks (parallel ridges of rock running out to the sea), I had a clear, flat walk to Saltburn which, though six miles away, I could see from Coatham.

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Saltburn-by-the-Sea is a pleasant seaside resort with a funicular tramway from the cliff top to the beach. It seemed like a good finishing point for this leg of the walk, separating the industrial North-east from the Cleveland Hills. I look forward to returning to Saltburn for the next leg of my journey.

It was just a short walk into the town to find the railway station and soon after 1pm I was on the train back to Darlington to collect the car and return home (and sort out the boiler).

Friday 13th December

Today dawned bright which is more than can be said for the Labour party this morning after their rout in yesterday’s election. My route today started by retracing my steps of last night back to the marina for a quick circuit. I am glad I did not do it last night in the rain and dark. In the breaking dawn Hartlepool took on an altogether more attractive appearance.

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Once round the marina, I crossed the harbour entrance by the lock gates where there is a memorial to the Hartlepool Monkey. Legend dictates that the monkey was the only survivor of a French ship sunk in the Napoleonic wars. The Hartlepool residents decided the monkey was a French spy and hanged it.

Hartlepool marina and harbour

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I wiggled my way around some new flats in a little development and got back to the coast by the south pier. The sun was now appearing above the horizon and was blindingly bright, reflecting off the wet sand.

With the tide still going out there was the prospect of a really long beach walk of about 6km down to Teesmouth. This turned out to be the highlight of my day. Firm sand, virtually no wind and weakly warming winter sun made perfect conditions for striding along at a good 4mph. I set my eye on the coast straight ahead just clipping the receding sea and started walking a straight line. Soon I realised that the blindingly bright sand that looked black from reflected sun was in fact black from a thin layer of coal dust left by the tide as demonstrated when scored the surface with my boot.

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To my further surprise, a little further on, I found groups of men cleaning the beach of coal. They were using a very basic scraper and then shovelling it onto the back of a truck. I asked him what they did with it and he told me that it got burned in the power station. This is part of a centuries-old tradition of “sea-coaling” but I found it difficult to believe that they could scrape up enough coal to be worth selling it or that there was a demand for it from power stations.

Carr House sands gave way to Seaton Sands. Then I reached the North Gare breakwater of the River Tees and climbed over that to complete my walk along North Gare Sands.

Some views along the beach

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From here on I knew the walking would be much less interesting as I turned inland to walk up the north side of the Tees. This is a heavily industrialised area and so there is no path actually along the bank of the Tees and the only possible route is along the edge of the A178. However just before I reached the main road I had a final ray of sunshine in my day when I spotted a kestrel on power line where it perched conveniently for me to take lots of photos.

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Walking along the verge of a fast main road was not much fun. At Greatham Creek there was a brief respite when I went to the hide to look over the creek which is now slowly recovering from the effects of years of industry as part of the Greatham Creek Realignment Project. This sounds like a euphemism for development. In fact it is an attempt to restore the intertidal zone in the marsh as “payback”  or to compensate for loss of wildlife habitat due flood defences planned at Redcar. Seals have now returned to the creek and avocets are now seen in the marshes.

Now in the distance I could the the Tees transporter bridge at Port Clarence which is normally the lowest crossing point on the river Tees. Unfortunately a few months ago the bridge was closed for assessment for repairs and there is no proposed reopening date. The bridge is essentially a platform which vehicles drive on from one side and the platform is winched across to the other side hanging from the huge cantilever structure and then drive off again. I assume the great height was to allow tall ships to pass freely up the river, though by the time of its opening in 1911 the number of tall ships must have been rapidly diminishing. The bridge has adapted to modern life and in addition to a glass, viewing platform it is a licensed bungee-jumping location. Slowly but surely, I hauled in the transport bridge until I could sit on a bench near the base for a cup of coffee (from my flask).

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In the absence of the Transporter Bridge, I now had a six mile walk upstream to Newport Bridge and then back down the south bank of the Tees. Walking up stream was entirely along side the A1046 which was very busy with heavy traffic. Eventually the Newport Bridge came into view. Middlesborough is fortunate to have two interesting bridges. The Transporter bridge is a horizontal lift bridge whilst the Newport Bridge is a vertical lift bridge. The central road platform can be lifted vertically to provide passage for ships. It was opened in 1934 and in 1989 the legal requirement for a lift bridge was removed and the bridge’s final lift was in 1990. The lift mechanism has been decommissioned and it is now a fixed road bridge. Once over the bridge, I turned left and walked down the south bank of the Tees. Here the path was sandwiched between the Tees and various industrial sites in varying states of demolition or rebuilding.

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At last I reached the south side of the Transporter bridge, some 2½ hours after I left the north side. From there it was just half a mile into the centre of Middlesbrough and my accommodation at the Holiday Inn.

The Holiday Inn is conveniently located in the centre of Middlesbrough and though it is a budget hotel is simple clean and everything worked and I had a reasonable view over the square outside the library. Not much wrong with that, though I didn’t go a bundle on the pink fountains. Having showered I went out to do my Christmas shopping and later I ate out at and appropriately named restaurant called “The Fork in the Road”.

Wednesday 12th December 2019

I had an early breakfast and then headed to the station to get the train back to Seaham. At about 8.20 I was walking back to the coast to resume my walk. The forecast was for a dry morning but heavy rain moving in for the afternoon.

Seaham is a town making good. The Victorian seafront is looking smart and tidy and there is an impressive and moving war memorial on the promenade.

Seaham has a small harbour which seemed to be quite active in the recycling business but as to where the materials were going I have no idea.

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On a dull day, the grey coal-stained beaches and friable cliffs looked uninteresting and rather lacking in wildlife. However, one has to remember that only a few decades ago this area was covered in the detritus of the coal mining industry. The once profitable business of coal-mining had become a loss-making, nationalised industry which the Thatcher government decided had to go. Though at that time the concept of global warming and the CO2 from fossil fuels was not recognised, perhaps it was fortuitous that our coal-mining industry died out in the 1970s and 1980s. Otherwise we would be facing the challenge of closing mines now as our reliance on fossil fuels is necessarily ending. As it is, this former mining area is regenerating itself and the scarred landscape is gradually healing, albeit painfully slowly.

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Information boards along the cliff top describe the former scene and illustrate it with old photos. It seems unbelievable now that millions of tons of coal slag was just bull-dosed over the edge of the cliffs.

Again access to the beach was not always easy and there is no point accessing a beach unless you can safely walk a good distance on the sand. I was slightly disconcerted by warning signs not to paddle or touch any of the water in stagnant pools because they are contaminated with toxins from its mining heritage. The coast is also subject to marked erosion and there was evidence of where old structures once existed. Further on, one can see what amounts to platform where the slag and debris of coal mining has been removed leaving a ledge where the sea comes in and erodes it.
The beach seemed to be devoid of seashells and birds which I assume is the legacy of the mining pollution.

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Having got on to the beach and crossed the stream at Hawthorn Dene, a detour inland was needed to get back onto the cliff top path.

Near Easington Colliery there was an annoying path diversion but if the path has subsided or fallen off the cliff there is no alternative.

The beaches often looked their best from the clifftop and could be a disappointment when I clambered down to try a bit of beach walking.

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Back on the cliff path once more there was more artistic evidence of the birdlife that is gradually being restored to the coastline.

An alternative to an inland detour around a dene was of the steps at Bluehouse Gill.

Most of the denes run directly into the sea. The dene at Crimdon is unusual in that it takes a detour presumably due to harder stratum of rock.

I worked my way along the edge of a static caravan park and managed to get down to the beach again and walk along North Sands, the sandy beach to the north of Hartlepool. 

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I had not had a break all day and a light drizzle was beginning to fall. There were no handy benches and eventually I found a spot in the dunes near the old pipeline to stop and have my flask of coffee and a croissant I had collected from  the breakfast buffet. A quick lunch done and I was on my way again with real rain settling in. The path was between some industrial reclamation sites and the dunes. It was a relief to reach the promenade at Headland. This is a hook like spit of land guarding the entrance to the Hartlepool’s Victoria Harbour and here my route took a very circuitous line around the headland and the harbour. The wind was blowing, the rain was falling and the light was failing.

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Even though I would finish up completing the day’s walk on tarmac, I would be in the town and have the benefit of street lighting.

Soon I was walking parallel with the promenade I had just been on, about a couple of hundred yards away but walking north west instead of south east. The route is then around an industrial and trading estate alongside a fast “A” road and in the pouring rain and with the cars whizzing past, it was not showing Hartlepool at its best.

Back at the Grand Hotel, I warmed up and showered ready for election night in Hartlepool. Well, I did go out for an Indian meal and I did wait up for the first results to come in but then I wanted a good night’s sleep.

Wednesday 11th December 2019

The next four days of walking I anticipated being challenging in the sense that I would be walking along the industrial coast of the North-East. There are many stretches where one cannot even get close to the coast because of the industry. There would also be some inland walking to reach river crossing points. It seemed like a good section to do in the middle of winter when I would be in street-lit areas at the start and close of each day’s walking. Originally I had planned to walk from Sunderland to Hartlepool in a single day, and though just possible it would have been a very long day of about 28 miles. Common sense (and some input from Jill) overtook me and I drove to Darlington and got a leisurely train and arrived at Sunderland around midday for a walk of just over eight miles to Seaham from where I would catch a train to Hartlepool for the night and return the following morning to continue my walk.

The walk along the south bank of the Wear was considerably less interesting than the walk upstream along the north bank had been; fortunately it was shorter. I was pleased to spot a boat with nine cormorants perched on it.

Once past the docks, the path regained the coast and follows the top of the low cliffs of the Tyne and Wear coastline. They are not very exciting and the option of getting onto the beach was limited by the lack of access points and the tide which was reasonably well in

As always sea fishing was in evidence. This man was fishing from the edge of the cliffs where he could not even see the bottom of the cliffs. I asked him how he managed to cast his line. He told me he just had to cast hard and long and listen for the splash.

The coast is punctuated by a number of denes or gorges cut by streams as they break through the coast to the sea. These require little inland diversions to a suitable crossing point. Had the tide been out I could probably have walked along the beach.

As I approached Seaham the sun came out and lit up the lighthouse on the end of the harbour wall.

This is one of the many sculptures along the coast commemorating the areas historic mining past.

For me Seaham was the end of the day’s walk and I turned inland to the railway station to get the train to Hartlepool. My grand plan was to have two nights in Hartlepool and so I had a twenty minute ride from Seaham. I arrived at the Grand Hotel as the light finally failed. I was using cheap chain hotels since camping in urban England in the middle of winter was not really on. The great thing about such hotels is that though basic they provide pretty standard accommodation and an early breakfast usually from about 7.00 allowing for an early getaway. Sadly the Grand Hotel has lost some of its grandeur, the stairs were closed because they were littered with buckets to collect the rain leaking in through the roof and similarly along the corridor in which I was staying. At least the lift was still functioning.

I explored a little of Hartlepool in the dark which no doubt disguised many of its less attractive features and then ate at an adequate Italian restaurant.

Monday 4th November 2019

Today was to be a very long day at over 24 miles. In my original plan I would have camped in the dunes near Seaton Sluice which would have put a couple more miles into yesterday’s walk.

I have to take back any scepticism I had about the Commissioners Quay Inn. I had a good bed and slept well. Breakfast was ready just before7:30 and it was very good. I was all done and on my way by 8am. 

The weather forecast was not very good with at least 50% likelihood of rain throughout the day. 

Out of Blyth I passed factories and yards mainly associated with the wind turbine industry. Then came the long South Beach. Up on the top of the dunes are some replica WWI artillery pieces restored to where the originals were.

For some reason the council has put a 2m wide tarmac cycle/walkway along the top of the dunes sure it makes for easy walking but it is too low to see anything in the seaward side and precious little to landward. So I tramped over the dunes to the beach though the tide had only recently turned and so all the dog walkers and I were squeezed in along the edge. Oddly the damp sand was quite soft and so it was hard work and eventually I crossed back to the tarmac because I knew I had a long day ahead of me. I was able to confirm that I could have camped in the dunes and been out of sight of the road and the cycle path.

The beach ends at Seaton Sluice. Somehow I didn’t think living there and giving my address as Seaton Sluice sounded very nice; it does sound distinctly lavatorial. However, it is really quite a nice little village with lovely little harbour in said Sluice.

I crossed the little footbridge next to the road bridge and followed the road through the village until a footpath turned on to a cliff top walk. The cliffs are not very high and nor are they especially strong, there being places where sections of cliff have fallen away.

Ahead I could see St Mary’s Lighthouse and out to sea there were a couple of ships moored. I had seen them the previous day on the walk down to Blyth and they were almost constantly in the view today. St Mary’s Isle is really nothing more than a rocky outcrop supporting a lighthouse and a lighthouse keeper’s cottage. The island is tidal and there is a concrete causeway that the residents can use at low tide.

Next came the long sweep of Whitley Bay. Initially I was restricted to walking along the path above the concrete sea defences but further on I could get on to the beach and walk along the sand. At the far end of the beach, the sea was still too high to continue on the beach and so I reverted to the promenade and walked past the splendid Victorian townhouses along the front.

Once over the headland my next destination, Tynemouth came into view. There is a small beach at Cullercoats and there was a lone, hardy soul swimming. Shortly after I got down to the  Tynemouth Long Sands and walked the length of the sands until it ran out by the lido. The Tynemouth Short Sands was just too short to be worth walking along. On the headland are the Castle and Priory though I did not have time to visit them (and anyway they were closed). Tynemouth is a pleasant little town.

Tynemouth

Tynemouth guarding the northern bank of the Tyne, meant it was time for an inland walk to the nearest crossing point the Tyne passenger ferry. The walk to North Shields was better than I expected. Initially there was a riverside promenade pass the statue of Admiral Lord Collingwood, Nelson’s second in command a Trafalgar. Then there was the old fishing quarter with a statue to the Tyne fishermen and then some splendid Victorian buildings making desirable riverside flats and houses.

At the ferry terminal I had a twenty minute wait so I enjoyed coffee and flapjack and removed my over trousers which I had donned at Tynemouth when rain started but failed to become significant.

Crossing the Tyne

I disembarked  at South Shields and walked up the south bank of the river, resisting the shorter walk through the town which a local woman recommended. I enjoyed the walk and seeing the modern quayside cousin development reminiscent of those  around Canary Wharf. There was one dock with a sculpture of stainless steel sailing ships floating there, and near the beach a sculpture called Conversation Pieces.

There are two beaches one within the pier enclosing the Tyne and the other out-with the pier but I could walk both of them.

Then it was back to cliff tops until Marsden beach which is quite short and has a very steep access path at the north end and steps and a lift halfway along but no clear exit at the far end and so I stuck with the cliff walk with Souter Lighthouse in my sight.

From Sunderland to Whitburn

The walk along the cliff tops is guarded by a rail at knee height hung with signs of dire outcome should one cross the rail and each one was numbered with a separate red sign. Souter Lighthouse is a very traditional red and white striped lighthouse and was the the first electrified lighthouse. And so the path continued along the cliff tops, still with warning signs until they numbered just short of 100. I looked down on to Finn’s Labyrinth, a maze of low, dry stone walls built on a grassy platform below the cliff.

I continued along the coast path. Near Roker is an important point where several long distance routes start or end including the C2C cycle route which I did with my son, Joe, many years ago.

At Roker

The path turns inland following the north bank of the Wear passing some splendid marinas and new riverside developments including the National Glass Centre and  Sunderland University. Then at last the path climbed to the A1018 to cross the River Wear by the road bridge. Then it was only half a mile to the station and a train home.

Walking up the Wear

So that was the end of my first leg of walking the coast path. Overall it was a good experience and I was pleased that I was able to walk long distances with a load and cope with occasional nights under canvas. There was quite a lot of hard surface walking but as if to compensate there were also excellent stretches of beach and dune walking.
Conclusion; I want to keep going.

Sunday 3rd November 2019

It was good to have had a night of comfort and then be driven back the start of today’s walk. It had tipped with rain in the night and the prospects for this morning were not great, even if Jill spotted a speck of blue sky. 

The tide had only recently turned (to go out) and so there was not much scope for getting onto the beach to start with. The sea was quite angry and breaking over the rocks spewing spray into the air. From Cresswell to the Alcan works near Lynemouth was mainly walking on the dunes, though I could see the chimney and buildings of the plant looming through the low cloud and seaspray. The dunes were pretty deserted but had some good, grassy areas which could have been used for camping had the need arisen.  Near the works there were several (gypsy) ponies tethered grazing on the dunes. One of them we saw yesterday trotting on Druridge sands. 

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The National Trail goes on the seaward side of the Alcan site on a fairly new path. The old power station has been demolished but there is still much evidence of coal debris or possibly cinders which had once been stored there. It looks as if the site is gradually being reclaimed. 

The Alcan plant and former power station

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The path around the plant did not seem entirely welcoming with huge blocks of stone which blocked the way to all but slim walkers and then the remains of a pipeline which which looked like so many crosses for those who died trying to circumnavigate the plant.

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A chap a few years older than me said hello and seemed keen to chat. He was local and walking from Newbiggin-by-the-Sea to Cresswell whilst his wife was at church. He did a lot of walking and recently walked the Kerry Way. He reassured me that, despite the dire warning signs, even if the path was officially closed, I would still be able to get through to the caravan park at Newbiggin.

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After a goodish chat I moved on to Newbiggin golf course where another  chap seemed keen to pass the time of day. The afore-mentioned caravan park was a mildly dreadful regimented place, complete with shops, swimming pool and entertainments.

Onward to Newbiggin which is not a bad place though I didn’t like the sculpture of a couple. The bay is quite tightly curved with a steep sandy beach. The RNLI were doing a training session with one of their inshore rescue boats. 

Newbiggin by the Sea

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A while later the path takes a detour inland and passes under the A189 to a weir where pedestrians can cross the River Wansbeck.

The path returned to a low cliff top and dunes path with the occasional opportunity to get onto the beach. Then I came to Cambois. Here there is a pub owned by Jackie Charlton which probably won’t mean anything to many of my readers and, to be honest, I couldn’t give a toss that a 1960’s footballer has a pub there. However, I did stop for refreshments at the café next door. The owner told me how I only had a mile to go and years back I could have got the ferry across to Blyth but, as it is now, it would be about seven miles around the Blyth estuary to get to the lowest crossing point.

Approaching North Blyth

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It did seem a long, long way to walk to get 200 yards across the estuary. The old power station site is being redeveloped and there is a marine construction facility though not so much ship-building as probably support equipment for offshore wind farms. The path took me past a new housing development then across and around waterlogged ground before tracing the riverside footpath and following it upstream to where the A189 goes over the River Blyth. There are stretches of the coast path which are well marked.

The detour upstream

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Here a link lets the walker get on to the dual carriageway to cross the river and then return to the riverside path going east on the south bank. The walking was easy as it was all on tarmac round the back of small industrial units before coming into Blyth itself right opposite the ship and rig that I had walked past about three hours earlier. Along the road I passed a number of sites with components of wind turbines which are for the off-shore wind farms.

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I was booked into the Commissioners Quay Inn which is a new build hotel but quite well appointed. 

Outside on the quay is yet another sculpture; it looks like a selection of curvy stems growing up surmounted by eight or so vertical, slightly reflective panels. It looked very odd to me but as I crossed the road I glanced up at it once more I could see that if you stand right in the middle of the road about 20 yards from the roundabout, the panels line up to complete an image of a railway train. It is called “Spirit of the Staithes” and commemorates the coal mining past when trains came along the staithes to offload coal on to waiting ships.

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Near my hotel I was surprised to see an elegant terraced house with Baths inscribed on its portico. This house had indeed at one stage been converted to a bath house though it appears to be a residence more. Poking up behind the terrace is the old Blyth lighthouse. It had once been on the harbour wall but apparently the course of the river changed and the lighthouse became redundant but it does look curious standing cheek by jowl with the back of the terrace.

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I wandered round some of the rest of the town but it seemed to have little to offer. The quay and the Williams II moored there was the most interesting thing. The Williams II is a replica Williams I which was the first vessel to sight Antartica, the Russians claim to have predated the Williams I but did not report it. The vessel was dispatched back to Antartica to attempt to chart the area and claim it for Britain.

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I had a reasonable curry at the Commissioner’s Quay before an early night.

Saturday 2nd November 2019

I slept well in the little cabin garden shed. Having been told where to find cereals and bread, I had breakfast at 7am and was packed and on my way by 7;30. Today was a special day; Jill was coming to join me at Warkworth Castle and walk the rest of the day with me. 

The path follows the southbank of the  River Amble and then goes through the dunes to Warkworth golf club where the path and the club jostle for position in the dunes.

I arrived at Warkworth Castle 40 mins before our agreed meeting time and went for a coffee.

Warkworth

Once we had met up, we walked along the A road by the riverside to Amble.  Amble is a nice village with some attractive riverside developments. The path follows the edge of the harbour and over the staithes that separate a section on harbour presumably for small boats though there were none using it today.

Amble

For those who have noticed the sudden increase in the number of photographs the reason is that, until Jill joined me, I was managing with my iPhone to save weight. However, Jill arrived with our lightweight camera and she is a much more enthusiastic photographer than I am.

From Amble Dunes

Next followed a bit of low cliff and dune walking until we reached Druridge Bay.

The tide was well out so we got onto the beach and we walked on the damp sand. The beach is some six miles long and  we walked the entire length along the sand and only had to divert to the edge of the dunes a couple of times when there were water courses that we could not cross in the beach.

We had a packed lunch sitting on tank traps. There were quite a few people walking on the beach generally with dogs. There were a couple of kite sand-sailors;  one had a three-wheeled go-kart affair and the other a glorified skate board.

The day was sunny and warm and altogether beautiful. At the end of the beach we turned inland to where Jill had left the car parked. Fortunately there was a café (The Drift Café) and we stopped for a welcome pot of tea and cake. Jill then drove us to The Plough at Ellington where we had a nice room for the night, though it was a pity the food was terrible.