Day: 260 27/2/03 Baycliff to Ulverston

Weather:  Fine but threatening

Distance:  8 km (5 miles)    Total Distance:   3342 miles

I was working in our Lancaster factory and decided to pop up to Cumbria which was less than an hours drive from Lancaster to walk the last half dozen miles into Ulverston and thereby leave me a sensible starting place the next time I was up.  I parked in the Fisherman’s Arms car park and walked down the track to the beach.  It was a lot more mild than last time I was up.  It was a sort of still overcast day threatening to rain but never actually did. 

As I walked the first stretch I was keeping an eye out for inscribed granite slabs I had been told about  He said they had been chiselled away at by a hippie type person some 20 years ago with anti-Thatcher slogans etc.  I was disappointed not to spot them.  I picked up a pebble for our ‘under the stairs’ collection and carried it the rest of the walk – afraid that if I left it too late the estuary would peter out into mud and no pebbles. 

I walked along the pebbles then the mud and then along the path that ran parallel to the beach.  Sometimes the path went through a lovely wooded area.  For the last couple of miles as I approached Ulverston the path went along an old railway.  A large slag deposit of some kind formed an island just off the coast which gave a strange appearance. 

I ended the day at the Glaxo factory or the GSK factory as it is now known.  I came here for interview some 25 years ago and remember staying in Ulverston and also remember failing one of the allergy skin tests we were given as part of the medical – dust mites I think it was.  I blamed that on never having embarked on a career in the pharmaceutical industry.

I walked the couple of miles up on to the main road and ended up by the leisure centre.  I was early for a bus seconded by which for some reason I could not find a bus stop, even though there were many going into Ulverston there appeared to be none in the opposite direction.  

Therefore I stared to hitch and in no time at all a fairly elderly man stopped.  As normal, I proudly told him what I was doing and about the short distance I had travelled that day.  He then told be he was planning to do the Appalachian Way and the longest walk he had done was the Silk Road from China to Israel  - over 4000 miles in two and a half years!  I was wondering whether he was having me on but you could tell from his appearance that he was a long distance walker.  I didn’t mention anything more about my walk!

Coming home the main road was blocked just outside Ulverston so I had to take a long detour through Grange over Sands – adding quite a bit to my journey.

Day: 259 18/2/03 Barrow to Baycliff

Weather:  Cold and Fine and windy.

Distance:  20 km (12.4 miles)    Total Distance:   3337 miles

I parked near the bridge to Walney Island and headed south past the Barrow dockyards and then into the residential area of Barrow Island and lots of brick terraced houses presumably built for the workers of the docks.  The area was in pretty reasonable condition.  

A mile or so on the main road and then a path cut south over waste land and then on the outside of a power station.  The terrain gradually improved and soon I was able to cut down onto the beach.  By the time I was at the neck of Roa Island the wind was high and the walk out to Roa Island was just hard work rather than pleasant.  I was hungry by now and called into the coffee shop on the island which proved to be an excellent decision, one of the best I have come across on the whole coastal walk. 

The afternoon walk was quite pleasant partly along the road past Rampside lighthouse and later along paths and beach at times. I didn’t seem to be feeling the cold too much as I was well wrapped up but by the time I left the beach at Baycliff it was so cold that the sea was beginning to freeze on the foreshore.  I stopped at Baycliff and walked up the road and caught a bus back to Barrow at the Fisherman’s Arms.  I got talking to an art student on her way to college in Barrow.    

Day: 258 17/2/03 Walney Island

Weather:  Cold and Fine.

Distance:  35 km (21.7 miles)    Total Distance:   3324 miles

A deceivingly long walk today around Walney Island.  I parked the car on the mainland and walked over the bridge and turned right.  

The first part was along seafront.  The path then changed character by going over scrub land near a disused airfield and then onto sand dunes,  The wind certainly picked up as I rounded the point on the northern tip which felt very remote as I lost sight of the mainland.

I had good views before that of Lowsey Point which I passed yesterday.  At Earnse Point there were a few people around walking dogs but not many.  I stopped for a break.

From then on it was a long haul all the way down to the South of the island.  At the nature reserve I was forced to cut inland and through the car park and then around the paths of the reserve come quarry.  An hour later I was retracing my steps.  Most of the rest of the walk was along the road which was a bit annoying as there were quite a lot of lorries from the quarry using it. 

Back at the hostel that night there were a young couple who were asking about hill walking but had never done any.  I always wondered whether they ever got up a hill.

Day: 257 16/2/03 Millom to Barrow

Weather:  Cold and Fine

Distance:  31 km (19.3 miles)    Total Distance:   3302 miles

  

I drove the car a short distance into Millon and started my walk from there.

The first stretch of the day was along an estuary path.  I then took a short cut over the railway bridge.  I had not seen a train all day so far – it being a Sunday.  Fortunately one never turned up which was a relief.

The next stretch along a road and then an official footpath over a railway bridge.  The next long stretch was along mainly marsh land and then eventually beach and a long swing around a sand dune area. 

The was a strange community living around Lowsy Point.  Eventually my way along the coast was blocked and I had to cut up onto the main road.  

I cut back down to the coast again through a new country park and stopped what had been a long days walk at the neck of the bridge over to Walney Island.

I caught a bus up into town and then found out that the trains were running again so got a train back to Millom.  I think I made use of the Chinese take away tonight.  There was an elderly lady staying in the hostel who was obviously a regular at this and many other hostels.

Day: 256 15/2/03 Bootle to Millom

Weather:  Cold and Fine.

Distance:  22 km (13.7 miles)    Total Distance:   3283 miles

I delivered another ‘workshop’ at York University in the afternoon and then made my way over the Pennines to the Lake District.  

The journey over the Pennines was long, most of the time spent getting out of York and then through Harrogate.  I had booked myself into Millon Youth Hostel and was told when I booked that I would be the only person there but when I turned up there were seven others there, a pair of Spanish and a pair of German language students from Dundee, an elderly lady and a young couple – an intense young man who was teacher training but believed in corporal punishment, and his Hungarian girlfriend.

I went into Millon to try to get a Chinese take-away but was told in one that it would be an hour and in another that it would be an hour and a half and there was me thinking that when they asked me whether I had ordered I thought they meant they were going to close the shop soon. I guess it was because it was Saint Valentines night and people’s idea of a romantic evening in Millon is to share a take away.  I ended up with chicken and chips from the chippy - evidently not people’s idea of a romantic meal judging by the lack of queue.

I was up early and got an early train to Bootle.  It was one of those trains where I had to ask the driver to stop at the station.  After a 15-minute walk down to the beach I was walking the coast for the first time this year and it felt good.

The beach was full of pebbles and not easy walking.  At one stage I got fed up with it and tried to make for the cliff tops – well not very high but they were steep to climb – but when I got to the top it was evident that there was no path and barbed wire fence everywhere so it was all the way back to the pebbles again.  Even after the map indicated that the pebbles could have given way to a vast expanse of sandy beach it was evident that I had been fooled and no doubt local dredging had taken all the sand away. 

I kept going till I was past the wind electricity generators at the headland and then took a break out of the very cold wind. There were lots of clear skies in cold temperatures, below freezing, but once I was up and walking warmed up quite nicely in the main.

I got to the village of Haverrig about 12.15 and was torn what to do.  I was very pleased with the progress I had made and was only aiming to get to Millom that day so popped into the Harbour Bar and ended up watching the Man United and Arsenal match (0-2) on a giant TV screen, mainly by myself.  That was exciting, especially as the opening 20 minutes was mainly the players kicking each other.  The Wales versus Italy match followed and that was the opposite – Wales loosing and reaching an all time low I think. 

The walk back to Millom was gentle – after three pints of bitter, past the large lake that had been reclaimed from the iron ore mine that once fed Millom Steel works, on which the Youth Hostel is now built – a bit of local knowledge for you there.  I stopped briefly at the Youth Hostel and then walked over the waste ground into town so that the next day I could start from there, plus to collect my car that I had left near the station that morning. 

I popped in Safeways to get a ready made curry and then back to the hostel.  I knew I wouldn’t be long before an Australian turned up and there he was – a young man who was into family history believe it or not and he was a real historian not someone who just claimed to have traced their family back 500 years with very littler evidence.

Day: 254 13/10/02 Ravenglass to Bootle

Weather:  Fine but cloudy.

Distance:  8 km (5.0 miles)    Total Distance:   3270 miles

I was up in the Lake District on  a friend's stage weekend.   The day before I had climbed my first mountain in the Lake District, Bowfell – said to be about the tenth highest in the Lakes. It had been a great walk. We ascended in the rain and low cloud but when we were on the top it cleared and we got good views all round and on the long decent into the Langdale valley.  We stayed in a cottage in Elderdale immediately behind the Britannia Inn where we had enjoyed a couple of evenings.

I was determined to make the most of the weekend and not feeling up to another mountain walk I was heading for the coast along with a friend who I was giving a lift back to Coventry.

It was a fair drive to Ravenglass from the cottage was there was no good road and even thought the main road through Conniston was a main road it was twisty.  We had also got up pretty late so it was gone noon when we parked up and headed off. 

The big question of the day was would we get over the estuary somehow or would we need to make the long detour inland up to Muncastry Castle.  The first part of the walk was along an overgrown path so we dropped down onto the sands, explored one possible way over the estuary to find we had been deceived by an optical illusion and that the river was hidden down in the sand gully and impassable.  When we got to the river crossing itself there was indeed a ford but one that was about 100 yards wide and muddy,  OK for 4 Wheel drives but not for ramblers afraid of getting their feet wet.  

So the only other option was over the railway viaduct.  I knew that the passenger train service was on strike for the weekend so we risked it as there was a sort of rickety wooden path alongside the tracks.  The former felt like it would give way at any moment whilst the latter was well secured on sturdy wooded beams.  A large sigh of relief was let out when we got to the other side without dropping into the river below or being mown down by a train carrying radioactive waste to Sellafield.

The next obstacle to confront us was the army firing range and ‘experimental station’ immediately over the bridge.  The red flags were not flying and there was a footpath signed to a nature reserve but there was no indication of whether this was a ‘no through path’ as it were leading back northwards back in the direction we had just come from but on this side of the river or a nice circular path leading all around the firing range.   I feared it was the former and that we would end up exactly where we started from some hours hence so we decided to stick to the road. Well I did actually; my friend is a very easy going chap and happy to go along with the flow!   

It was a long straight and very quiet road past a virtually deserted army base – all off training for the threatened war against Iraq at a guess.  My companion said it reminded him of Day of the Triffids and I could see why.  Once we got the beach it was time for a rest, a biscuit.   Then we took to the beach for a couple of miles till we got to a convenient place to stop and headed inland up to Bootle as soon as we worked out where we were on the map.  

We were about 45 mins early for a bus so tried out hand at hitching but without an luck.  My friend probably guessed right when he said it was probably more difficult to hitch with two.  The good thing was that he bus was exactly on time and we were back at the car in no time.  The journey home however still took some 4.5 hours and it was pouring with rain for the last hour – we did well to get a nice day out of it. 

Day: 254 27/9/02 Braystones to Ravenglass

Weather:  Fine but cloudy.

Distance:  29 km (18.0 miles)    Total Distance:   3264 miles

I said goodbye to the people staying at the Youth Hostel and headed off, ironically driving through Egremont where I had stayed the night previously.  I parked the car in the peaceful village of Beckermet near a bus stop where I was hoping I would be dropped at the end of the day.  From there I walked about the mile down to the coast at Braystones and onto the beach. 

I could see Sellafield in the distance and it was a question of when to cut off the beach and onto a path that went on the landward side of a river flowing parallel to the shore.  When I did cut inland under the railway, the path was pretty overgrown and appeared to get progressively worse as I headed towards the reprocessing plant. 

As I neared the plant I was having to fight my way through the undergrowth.  Even though there was the occasional sign saying that this section of the footpath was sponsored by BNFL there was little evidence that they were doing any maintenance on it. 

I skirted the plant for a couple of yards and then dropped down towards the small station that serviced the plant.  As I was dropping down a police van pulled up and a young disheveled policemen jumped out, seemingly having been woken up.  It suddenly occurred to me that I must have been spotted on a security camera and he must have been called out to find me.  He was not very observant however and once he and the dog were out of the van they headed off in the other direction without looking around.  I had in effect crept up behind them and was only a short distance away when the dog eventually heard me.  The policeman looked around, looked me up and down, concluded I was obviously a rambler and then turned around and put him and his dog back in the car. So much for high security.

After walking near a golf course I entered the village of Sellafield.  It had a very eerie feeling about it and it took me a while to realise what was wrong – there were no children around – only adults.  I presumed all parents were too afraid to bring up children so close to the reprocessing plant. 

I found a bakery that also sold hot drinks and had a take away coffee and cake sold to me by a very nervous young shop assistant.  I almost asked her if I was her first customer but was afraid that she would drop the coffee and I would go thirsty even longer.

The next section of the walk was along a very long beach to Drigg Point.  I was debating whether this section was strictly in my walk criteria but two things convinced me it was firstly that the dunes marked on the map were pretty substantial and not an area that got flooded at high tide and secondly that there were quite a few other people walking out to the point. 

It was pretty desolate, not any landmarks to speak of but the sand was pretty firm.  It took over an hour to get to the point.  Once I was there I was hoping to go all around it and back up north on the landward side but having walked around a lot of it it became very muddy and marshy so I had to frustratingly turn back and go all the way around again – another walk of over an hour!

I cut in up to Drigg where the low level waste from Sellafield is stored.  The next frustrating part was that on the map there was a path across the river marked but having walked down a farm track to see what it looked like it was a river,  even though the tide was out,  another ancient right of way masquerading as a footpath.   This meant a long walk inland but at least it was more interesting that the long sandy beach!  I caught up with a man who I had spotted on the landward side of Drigg Point on the other side of the mud flats to me.  I wanted to know how he had got there and back.  I chatted to him but it was evident he was a little slow but pleasant nevertheless.   

When I did eventually cross the River Irt(?) it was at a very picturesque ancient stone footbridge with the only other person around a lonely fisherman – a great scene.  I was rushing now as I was trying to make the bus and deciding whether there was time to go south of Ravenglass and over the railway viaduct as I knew the trains were on strike.  That would mean that next time I could start south of the viaduct.  When I got to the lovely village of Ravenglass I headed out along the sands and footpath but soon realised that time was against me so I turned back, enquired at the café about B&B for future reference, and about where the bus stop was, had a quick look around the narrow gauge railway museum and bought a can.  The bus turned up exactly on time and did indeed take me back to the car for the long journey home – the first time I travelled south of the Lakes.

Day: 253 26/9/02 Harrington to Braystones

Weather:  Fine but cloudy.

Distance:  25 km (15.5 miles)    Total Distance:   3247 miles

At 7.30am I was the last person having breakfast such was the nature of the B&B.  I drove to Harrington and left the car near the station. 

I got a little lost in the first few hundred yards but managed eventually to find the path up the hill, and onto a farm track.  This led to a small quarry Harringtom Parks which looked like it was so small it could have been a family type venture or just a massive hole at the bottom of the garden.

I noticed that the footpath had been diverted at one stage just a month previous and I was hopeful that I could go all the way to Whitehaven without going on the road but there still obviously remained one farmer who forced the path inland, onto the road for a mile and into Lowca, a village who’s football club had been awarded lottery money to build a large club house that I walked past down to the sea. 

I found myself stranded on top of a grassy cliff with a sewage works down blow blocking my way into Whitehaven.  I found a way down and under the railway just before and onto the beach,  a good place for elevenses I thought.  I then picked up a good path into Whitehaven on the inside of the railway.  A teenage cyclist passed me,  or should I say almost did because no sooner was he alongside than his chain broke.  I couldn’t think of anything practical to do so shared his curses and left him to it.  He passed me a while later scooting it into Whitehaven.

I stopped at the station to get confirmation that the trains were not running tomorrow because of a strike.  Just my luck.  A place with a good train service all along the coast and a strike taking place.  The elderly people in front of me who has planned a holiday by train were less then pleased I must say!  Next stop was WH Smiths to buy a map and then a bank to get some cash – that’s how expensive maps are these days!  It was then a walk around the pleasant harbour of Whitehaven.  . 

The next couple of hours was excellent walking around St Bees Head.  It was just like being back in Pembrokshire again.  First I had to walk along the cliff top and stare down to the effluent outfall of Albright & Wilson detergent factory spewing its frothy effluent into the sea.   I later heard it was earmarked for closure which probably gave them the excuse for not doing anything to clean it up at present.  

Up on the cliffs was great, past the lighthouse which marked the end of the coast to coast walk, down and up a valley, and then around the corner and a drop into St Bees.  I was thirsty by this time and was relieved to find the large café on the front so stopped for a coffee and caramel square.  I had expected a warm welcome and to be confused with someone who had just completed the Coast to Coat, asked to sign a book, have my picture take but no, not even a smile! 

It was too early to stop so I took to the coast again, over a golf course then back to the beach again and a strange stretch past what could best be described as a series of shacks – all different, mostly falling down.  These continued on and off all the way to the end of the walk at Braystones.  Just before there I had some scrambling over rocks to do and got chatting to a man with 2 dogs which was a little weird as I was sat down between two rocks and his salivating alsation Sheba was on top of a rock level with my face. I think however we were both a tired as each other and posed no threat to each other. 

Braystones Station was where I decided to stop walking for the day.  What a strange place.  People who owned the shacks on the beach had to open gates to cross the railway.  I was somewhat early for the train as I discovered when I looked at the timetable – not wishing to look at it any earlier otherwise I would have no doubt rushed the last bit.  I took a short walk up the road to suss out where to park the car the following day and was just feeling like I needed the toilet when I passed a caravan site with a toilet right next to me. I wish it was always that simple.

The train was one of those you had to put your hand out for it to stop and then tell the guard where you wanted to get off  - excellent!

When I got back to the car I phoned the Youth Hostel in Cockermouth and was pleased to hear they had some room.  There were only 4 of us staying in this old mill building but it was an excellent evening having a chat with the warden and someone who had just done the Coast to Coast cycle route to and from Newcastle.  I popped out into the town for a disappointing curry – edible but one of these where the chicken tika is in chicken cubes. They didn’t look too pleased when I mentioned it to them that I wasn’t too happy! 

Back at the hostel we had all gone to bed when there was a knock on the door and no sign of anyone answering it but by the time I got there the car was pulling away and we never did find out who it was. 

Day: 252 25/9/02 Workington to Harrington

Weather:  Fine but cloudy.

Distance:  7.5 km (4.7 miles)    Total Distance:   3231 miles

I was working in Lancaster today and decided to take a day's holiday tomorrow and have a couple of days walking.  It was unseasonably dry; one of the driest Septembers on record particularly if you take into account that all the rain that did fall in the month fell on one day a couple of weeks ago.

I stopped in a Service Station to get changed out of my works clothes and into my walking gear.  My blister from a few weeks ago having heeled by now.  I got to Workington and there was a pull in in the industrial estate near the docks where I was about to start walking from but it had a burnt out car in it so I took the hint and parked up the road near a row of houses.

The path, part of the millennium cycle way,  took me down into the docks along side a railway over the river on a wooden footbridge via a gate which looked as if the dock owners had tried to fence off but had been told it was a public footpath and had to open up again. 

Once past the docks the path went towards the sea but no sooner had it got to the headland and it swung inland up the hill, past the monument and over near a quarry.  To get past the steel works I had to go inland and over the railway and followed that for the rest of this short days walk all the way to Harrington.  The path went between the railway and a menacing looking industrial estate with guard dogs.  Small foot tunnels went under the railway periodically leading to the beach. 

Once at Harrington railway station I examined the timetable and found it was about another 50 minutes to wait for a train.  I had been loathed to examine the timetable I had with me before I got to the station because it always spoils a good walk having to rush for a bus or train.  I wandered up the main street to see if I could see a bus stop and happened to see a bus coming into the village.  As luck would have it it did a u-turn and turned up at the bus stop just as I found it and it was going back to Workington. 

It took another 15 minutes to walk out of the town to where my car was parked and then about a 15 mile drive to the B&B I had booked in Egremont.  I had booked it late the previous evening finding it on the Internet and wondering why the rooms were only £16.  It was not a hostel for the unemployed as I was worried about but a place mainly for contractors.    Unfortunately the landlady told me that it was her birthday that weekend and that she had been told that no guests were allowed and a surprise as being planned.  Nevertheless I was glad of a place to stay for the one evening.

I went out to look for a place to eat but the local Indian was shout but there were a load of take-aways.  I got a Chinese and took it back to the B&B and ate it in the lounge as the landlady had invited me to.  It was a lounge with microwave, tea and coffee making facilities, a table and sky TV – a sort of posh B&B.  Others came in and started to chat.  I spent the evening talking to a contractor at Sellafield who had spent most of his career at Davey Magee R&D where I once went for an interview in Stockport,  and a shopfitter / chippie working on a hospital from Southport.

Day: 251 15/9/02 Beckfoot to Workington

Weather:  Fine but cloudy.

Distance:  24 km (14.9 miles)    Total Distance:   3226 miles

Another great breakfast at Wallsend Guest House shared with a couple of young men about to start on a week long walk along Hadrian’s Wall.  Unlike most people who stayed at the guesthouse they were walking it towards Newcastle.  It was the first long distance walk they had tried and I was not totally convinced that they would succeed given the fact that they were planning to leave the route at some stages to see Roman ruins.  I'm thinking they’d soon abandon that plan I’m sure once they got tired. 

The one mistake of the morning was leaving my towel at the B&B,  which I had only packed because I was going with friends tonight.   It turned up in the post a day later.  Excellent service from the best B&B in the country!

I parked in a lay-by in Beckfoot, a hamlet overlooking the sea.  The hills of Scotland were just about visible through the haze.  I was walking in trainers as I had a bad blister from the day before and my back was very stiff which made the first hour’s walk slow and painful along the beach. 

At Allonby I found a café which got some of it right – the cakes were good, the cappuccino OK but the décor and the cleanliness somewhat below par.  Anyway, it made me feel better added to which the path in the grass at the top of the beach from there on was a lot better than walking on the beach. It even appeared as if it had been mowed by the council.  Every man and his dog were out for a walk in the Indian summer we were having but fortunately the dogs were all pretty well trained and so were their owners – well most of them. 

Allonby appeared to be dominated by a burnt out building and a derelict church building which took the edge off what would otherwise have been an attactive village. 

A couple of miles before Maryport a promenade started.  I didn’t object to this one as it has been a long while since I had walked along a promenade and it was easy walking.

I would like to tell you how great Maryport was and perhaps it was but in all honesty I didn’t see much of it.  The pier was being reconstructed and I approached through the back streets and no sooner was I in the town and I was out of it again walking past a museum or two, along side a dock or two and out on the coast again.  I think most of the town was inland from the path I took. 

As soon I  was south of Maryport the character changed and the industrial landscape started to appear.  The wind farm built along the coast north of Workington appeared relatively new and I must say that the spinning blades were quiet – much quieter then the only other wind farm I had walked past some 15 years ago near Llanelli where the hum would be heard from a long way off.  That just demonstrates how the technology has improved. 

The path followed the railway track for a long while but was in a good state of repair so I made reasonable progress.  Finally it came inland, through the wind farm and golf course below. Playing golf under a wind farm must be pretty weird. It reminded me of those crazy gold courses where you had to get the ball trough a rotating windmill. 

Once I got onto the main road there was a tremendous traffic jam caused by some road works and some badly set temporary lights which meant that it was blocked both ways. The good news was that there was a bus going in the direction I wanted in the traffic jam but no bus stop in sight.  

The other commotion was a fleet of police cars and an ambulance trying to get through the jam and also going in the direction I wanted.  As one of the police cars edged its way through the jam siren blaring it came to a section near me and I was able to move a bollard so that it could divert through a lay by and out of the jam.  My action and that of a policemen on foot started to un-jam the traffic and thereby got my bus moving so I quickly walked forward to try to find a bus stop and got to one just at the same time as the bus to Maryport – pretty lucky considering they were only every 2 hours on a Sunday and this one had been jammed up for 30 minutes! 

At Maryport I was still less than half way back to my car and no busses on a Sunday to Silloth.  I walked a mile up the road to the turning off to Silloth and started to hitch but the turning was more a Y in the road which meant that the cars came around the corner at some speed and in groups of three or four so didn’t look like they were going to stop in a month of Sundays.

I hitched for over half an hour without any luck.  I started to walk but had to take great care as it was a fast road and narrow when there were oncoming cars.  A man on a golf course told me cars would not stop for me there because I was on a bend. He was pretty close to having some abuse hurled back at him I can tell you!  I sort of gave up hitching after a while and walked into the town of Allonby and out again but without so much as a sniff of a lift apart from when I fell down a hole when walking backwards and hitching at the same time.  The oncoming car slowed down. I would like to think to check I was OK but I suspect it was because they were laughing so much.

After about two fruitless hours I analysed the situation in depth.  Lots of youngsters were trying to be funny and giving me the thumbs up back or worse.  So what was wrong.  I normally walked in boots so looked like a walker but today I was in trainers because of my blister.  Nothing I could do about that.  I had long hair which wasn’t exactly in fashion.  Nothing much I could do about that but make a mental note to get it cut.  I was wearing white socks with trainers which Margaret always said only the English men did inferring it was fuddy duddy.  So being the only thing I would act on I started to take them off.  I had taken one off when a white transit came around the cornet, I stuck my thumb out and it stopped immediately – point proved.  Why did he stop for a strange man wearing only one sock?  He was a builder, had triplets for grandchildren and spent 5 months a year in Tenerife and that’s why he worked on Sundays.  He looked like Onslow in what ever that sit-com Keeping Up Appearances. 

It took 4 hours to drive to friends in Brigg and I was absolutely shattered.  I had half a bowl of pasta a tea an a coffee and after an hour we all went to bed – a bit rude to turn up and then disappear so soon I thought!

Day: 250 14/9/02 Abbey Town to Beckfoot

Weather:  Fine and sunny.

Distance:  22 km (13.7 miles)    Total Distance:   3212 miles

I got up early and drove up to Cumbria on Saturday morning.  I got to Abbey Town by about 10.30 and treated myself to a massive vanilla cream in the local grocery shop and then drove up the road and parked outside the church.  I thought wrongly that I had forgotten the bottle of squash I had made up early that morning to made a dash back to the shop to buy a bottle of coke and then promptly found the squash – don’t panic Ted!  

I got walking about at about 11.00.  The first couple of fields I crossed were weird in that they were full of dead pea plants – some of the surrounding vegetation was also dead which made me think that something had been sprayed on the fields to kill everything in sight to aid replanting at some stage.  I was careful not to touch too much as any residues may not be too pleasant.

After a pleasant bit alongside a river and a little bit along a road I headed off over the fields onto Calvo Marsh.  I was not too sure whether this was still a footpath. I recall receiving a leaflet from the local tourist board about the Cumbria Coastal path where I think it had been diverted inland off the marshes.  Certainly on the map it was marked as a path and the Cumbria Coastal Path but not a public footpath and there was no sign up at the point where the path departed from road.

There were stiles over fences but it quickly became apparent that the path was in a poor state of repair.  Streams which the locals apparently call vinegar streams because of the brown colour, criss-crossed the marshes making progress slow.  I came across more than one group of cattle but none were too threatening.  More than once I fell down a water filled hole and got my feet wet.  When I got to the farmhouse at Border the undergrowth was much taller, the path completely disappeared and the streams wider – it made no sense to carry on and was positively dangerous to do so.  I decided to head inland. 

At Staville Cote farm I bumped into the farmer who kindly told me the way through the farm and to the unmarked footpath.   At Waitefield farm the path disappeared and I was left to try to find a way through the farm not getting chased by the geese!  I clambered over a fence and got away without disturbing anything fast with teeth or a sharp beak.  

The farm at Clavo was huge and I strolled through it and onto firm tarmac once again!  When I got to Skirbruness I looked back over Calvo marshes and was surprised to see a well-marked path with posts ever 100 meters disappearing into the distance.  Quite where the path became impassable when heading from the westwards direction was not possible to tell but no doubt there were an equal number of frustrated walkers who abandoned their walk when going in the opposite direction to me.  

The walk up to Grune Head and back again along the beach was pleasant compared with the failed marsh walk.  I stopped at one stage and took off my shoes and socks and tried to dry them out by slapping them against some rocks.  Coming into Skirbruness for the second time the path wend along a lovely grassy area between some houses and the seafront.  A man walking a dog tried to make conversation but I am not sure I was completely with it so we failed to strike up what he was hoping for!  

Between there and Silloth the path followed a less attractive concrete promenade come sea defence.  The people of Silloth were making the most of the late summer sunshine.  It was pretty hot by this stage in the day.  To get around the port and flourmill of Silloth I had to go someway inland just catching a glimpse of the wide cobbled streets of this old sea side resort.   It was still relatively early and I had energy left to I decided to head onwards a bit even if it were to make getting back to the car a little more difficult.  The road took me down to a golf club and then a path took me down towards the coast again. 

Just as I got onto the beach the blister which had been building up all morning from wearing wet socks and boots decided to burst making me smart a little to say the least.  I hobbled along for the last hour not really enjoying it as much as I had expected till I got to Beckfoot.  I walked into the village when a fire engine pulled up and the crew got out in search of a fire.  I don’t think they ever did find one. I suspect it was a grass fire that had burnt itself out by the time they arrived – that being the drawback of a local part-time fire service who have to assemble themselves before responding to the fire.

I found a place where I would leave the car the next day and then started hitching.  It was a surprisingly fast road and I thought I would be out of luck but a man soon stopped with a canoe on the roof and a young son in the passenger seat with a blue mouth – the result of having eaten something blue I hope!  The young tattooed driver proved his virility by speeding past an odd meandering motorist or two before settling down to tell me how he had taken up canoeing the year before and got hooked on it and just bought this second hand canoe.  I told him how I had had to give mine away for fear of not being able to eject if I capsized being a little wider than when I had made it in venture scouts.  I also told him the other reason was that I didn’t like being seen in a sissy pink canoe – the result of getting the dye mix wrong when we made it.  It was only then that I realised that he had a faded red canoe looking suspiciously pink in nature.

He dropped me at the bus stop but I still had 45 minutes to wait for a bus so strode to the outskirts of Silloth to hitch.  A surprisingly large number of the drivers were youths who thought it was fun to stick their thumbs up at me or worse.  One car even jested by slowing down making out to give me a lift and then sped off.  Eventually a man on his way back to Carlisle gave me a ride.  I had a shock when half way there a baby I hadn’t noticed cried out in the back of the car! 

Back outside the church in the abbey town a man came to lock up the church and engaged in a conversation.  I was not sure if he was the verger or the minister.  If the later then my blister that he showed an interest in as well as my aim of walking the coast may have been the subject of the sermon the next day.

I had booked into Wallsend guesthouse in Bowness having failed to track down one in Silloth and also knowing that Wallsend was a very decent B&B.  I had a family room this time – Patsy had apologised on the phone that she would have to charge the full rate and I was expecting her to say some astronomical amount but it was only £25.  The pub was also as popular as ever and I just squeezed in for a meal at 7.00 and was in bed and asleep not long after 10.00.

Day: 249 16/6/02 Bowness-on-Solway to Abbey Town

Weather:  Fine.

Distance:  25 km (15.5 miles)    Total Distance:   3199 miles

Wallsend B&B was the best B&B I've have stayed in on the trip and was definitely under-priced at £22 per night for this 4 star accommodation.  Patsy’s breakfast was a real treat – melon to start with and an enormous fry full of good quality ingredients. 

I shared a table with a young American couple from Rayleigh, North Carolina. His name was Scott – I don’t know why I had to ask him where he was from – it was pretty obvious.  They were on a 10 day whistle stop tour of England and Scotland with a day o two in Paris thrown in for good measures.  They had ended up in this far flung desolate part of the world because they had booked it on the internet – I guess you can not see the contour lines when you book on the internet and don’t realise that where you should be as a tourist is some forty miles south in the Lake District.  They were on their way from Bath to Holy Island and I guess therefore were on the wrong side of the country too.

The weather looked very much like it was going to rain and sure enough when I stepped out into the open it started.  I donned my waterproofs but had only just put them on when it stopped again and stayed dry for the rest of the day.  

Today was going to be all road walking so I wore trainers rather than boots.  I headed out west along a road that went to nowhere other than looped around an area I later was told was called the Island.  I could tell it was going to be a quiet walk when I saw a gate across the road!  Cows lined the sides of the roads in places as they had the previous day.  As it was such a late summer the birds were still singing loud. 

I plodded on for mile after mile without stopping, there being nowhere sensible to stop added to the fact that I wanted to get to a pub to watch Ireland play Spain in the second round of the World Cup.  Once the road headed south I stated to pass a radio listening station.  I passed a recent memorial to someone who had died, I guessed from a road accident judging by the gap in the fence at the same place.  I chatted to a man walking his dog who told me about where I was heading and then once I got into Anthorne the roads got a little busier and boys and their dads were out playing football on the local playing fields. 

I reckoned that if I carried on without stopping I could get to Newton Arlosh may be without missing too much of the football.  I cracked on which wasn’t too difficult as it was as flat as a pancake for most of the time.  The road got ominously quiet again which concerned me from a hitchhiking point of view.  I got to the village dead on 12.20 KO time.  The pub looked great from the outside but was dead quiet – no cars in the car park – only a decorators van!  'Closed for Refurbishment' would have been a good sign to put on the outside rather than leave me trying all the locked doors!

I sat down, had a chocolate bar and a drink of water and headed out of the village looking mournfully through the windows of houses where people were watching the match in the feint hope of being asked in to join them.

The road swung inland but I carried on along a track to a farm where even the dogs normally guarding such premises appeared to be absent – presumably watching the football.  Once again I was listening on my son's mini-radio and the walking passed quickly.  Passing over a disused railway bridge I rejoined the main (huh!) road and entered Abbey Town some 15 minutes later.  

The thought of tracking down the abbey and reading its history never entered my mind and I desperately tried to find the village pub.  Packed to the rafter it wasn’t!  There were about ten people in it – only one other man watching the match and drinking bottled Guinness – the others playing pool and appearing oblivious to the fact that they kept standing in the way of the telly.  It was a disappointing match that went into extra time and then penalties.  Ireland had the best chances but even the never seemed all that threatening.  I knew once it came to penalties it would all be over – the Irish not being very confident in that department. 

 I was pretty relaxed about getting a lift back to Bowness when I left the pub, even though it was a very remote corner of the country. I think it must have been the couple of pints of Guinness.   I had to walk for about 20 minutes to get the first lift.  It had just started to rain and I had taken to sheltering under a tree on the opposite side of the road to the direction I wanted to go in so every time I saw a car coming I dashed across the road.  A lady popped out of the farmhouse I was outside I think to make sure I wasn’t some sort of weirdo playing chicken with the traffic.  A man stopped on his way home from being called into work at the flourmill in Siloth.  He took me as far a Kirkbride and appologised for not being able to take me to Bowness but he had to dash home to give the car to his wife.  It wasn’t long after I got a lift with an elderly couple who were out for a Sunday drive and took me all the way to Bowness – the long way around the coast – the way I had walked – I think they were testing me out to make sure that my story was true about having walked that way!

Day: 248 15/6/02 Carlisle to Bowness-on-Solway

Weather:  Fine, breezy.

Distance:  27 km (16.8 miles)    Total Distance:   3182 miles

Although it was a fine day for walking it followed a very wet week and I dreaded to think what the ground would be like,  in particular the first stretch which was along the banks of a river.  

I drove up from Coventry on this Saturday morning without too much trouble only taking one wrong turn in Carlisle.  I parked near the start of an industrial estate and headed down to the river.  The first place of note was a hamlet of Grensdale and in particular the church on the exit to the hamlet which although very old and picturesque was less so as the way the path went was hidden from view!  

The path near Beaumont was pretty hard to follow and overgrown plus dangerously steep in places making a fall into the swollen Eden a possibility if I were to loose my concentration.  After that the path improved and one of the highlights of the day was getting very close to a hare. They are pretty big animals up close and I thought for one instance it was a baby deer as it hopped / jumped away. 

I was trying to time it so as to get to a pub to watch England play Denmark in the world cup in Japan which is why I kept on going.  By the time I reached the farmhouse art Holmesmill I knew the game was about to start.  A very elderly woman was outside the house and I fear I gave her a bit of a start so I tried to calm her by asking if the footpath went through the farm yard which it did. 

Onto the foreshore and I stopped to get out a tiny radio which my son had said I could borrow. It was only moments into the match but Owen had already scored for England.  The wind made it pretty difficult to hear and the earphones kept falling out.  I headed for the King Edward I monument but the path was virtually disappeared at this point and it was hard going. The monument was being repaired so I could not get close up to it.  I kept going!

The first pub I found in Burgh appeared closed so I kept on going and walked into one which looked likely.  I dreaded it being too full to get in but it was busy but not packed.  The landlord very kindly told me to help myself to the buffet – most kind of him. By this time it was almost half time and England were winning 2-0.  I wonder if he would have said that if they had been loosing.

The afternoon walk was not too interesting and the first three miles or so were along a very straight road but it was not very busy so relatively easy to walk along.  Near Glassen the map showed a sort of dog leg footpath off to the right which I decided to take.  The first part of the dog leg was along a farm track but the second part the path disappeared and I had to hack through overgrown fields and over fences – fortunately no bulls! 

Port Carlisle was a strange place – not too much money around by the looks of it but a row of solid looking houses.  A bowls match was in progress with a strict dress code being enforced with everyone in white.  Another mile or so and I was in Bowness.  I found the B&B and went to tell the owner that I would hopefully return in about an hour once I had got a lift back to the car.  

A lift proved quite difficult to find or should I say a car! Only three passed me in about 30 minutes.  One did stop but said they were only going part of the way. I kicked myself for turning them down.  But then a couple in a Series 5 BMW with cream leather seats stopped and took me all the way into Carlisle - excellent! 

That night I ate in the pub where the entertainment was a woman who had obviously been in there all day and rather the worse for ware. The food was very good and cheap and I was well impressed with the whole place.

Day: 247 25/3/02 England/Scotland Boarder (Gretna) to Carlisle

Weather:  Fine, breezy.

Distance:  22 km (13.7 miles)    Total Distance:   3166 miles

Another momentous day – going south towards home. 

I left the youth hostel and drove on the pretty quiet roads to Gretna, parked in a suburban street and headed to the outskirts of the town stopping to take some pictures of the river which marked to border. 

I was expecting more wedding chapels etc as that’s what I associate with Getrna but it was more just an ordinary town.  The next section was none too pleasant, along the main A74 England to Scotland road. There were no obvious footpaths in the fields or on the map so I was forced to stick to the main road. 

I suppose I should be thankful that it had not been made into a motorway and then my path would have been blocked all together.  I thought that about half way along I would be able to get off the A74 and use a farm track that ran parallel to the main road but it was far from obvious whether this was a private road or not so I was forced to stick to the A74 itself.  

I could see the Metal Bridge Inn in the distance and was relived to get off the road, around the pub and onto a footpath, over a very new footbridge over the main railway line, another relief, and then onto a track.  Here I came very close to a baby deer – such a contrast to a few minutes earlier when I was on a very busy main road.  

I hit some minor roads and had a choice to make of whether to head north towards the estuary and explore whether I could get around the marsh on what looked like a sea defence or head south and cut off the corner.  I chose the former and having got to the estuary decided to go north even though it was pretty ambiguous whether it was any sort of right of way or not. 

Initially the going was not too bad but after a couple of miles the going got much harder and the sea defences had evidently recently been reinforced without any intention of catering for walkers so it was like walking over a building site.  On the southern side of the estuary things were not much better even though according to the map I was now on a footpath.  I got to a large private estate and had to walk along the road as the footpath along the marsh was non existent.  There were however some mini sandstone like cliffs to look at. 

From Rockville all the way to Carlisle I walked on the banks of the River Eden.  This was easier than it sounds and the one point I was following a not very well used path, and found myself below a fair sized cliff (50 add feet) and the swollen River Eden down a drop to my right and the footpath in a very bad condition.  The fact that a cliff had appeared on my left and going back would have made quite a detour made me determined to press on but it was pretty dangerous! 

  

The other aspect of the walk was the fact that I hardly met anyone at all.  At one stage I met a grandfather evidently out for a walk with his grandson teaching him all about the surrounding countryside – a great sight but that was the only conversation I had all day.  

The twists and turns in the river had made this a deceivingly long walk and I was wondering where I was going to cross the river when I came across an old bridge over the river evidently no longer used.  I assumed from its state that it would be all fenced off but I saw a person walking across it.  I walked up from the footpath at river level to the top of the bridge and looked across.  It didn’t look all that safe!  The walls on the side had been pushed into the river below by local vandals so all the remained was the platform high above the river.  I walked across wondering whether I was doing the right thing. It was not a right of way but still pretty well used by those brave enough to try.     

On the other side I headed north out of Carlisle for a while till I came to a point to stop for the day.  The riverbank was still in a slippery condition and the fear of landing in the swollen river remained.   After about a mile I ended the walk for the day, headed inland though an industrial estate and ended up walking the main road into Carlisle and catching a bus back to Gretna.

The contrast between the quite middle part of the day and the noisy start was striking.  

Day: 246 25/3/02 Beal to England/Scotland Boarder (Berwick)

Weather:  Fine, breezy.

Distance:  22 km (13.7 miles)    Total Distance:   3153 miles

I had a couple of days holiday to use up by the end of the week and fortunately they turned out to be fine walking weather days.  I travelled up the evening before and stayed in Wooler Youth Hostel which was an old barracks type building on the outskirts of the town that had been used by the Women’s Land Army in the war.  I travelled up straight from work in Derby and called in for a McDonalds near Caterick and got to the youth hostel at about 9.30.  It was relatively quiet and I got talking to an elderly couple that appeared to be walkers and a younger mother who was telling me about Ironbridge where we were going to visit as a family over Easter.     

I was up and out of the hostel by 7.30 and had parked the car at the start of the causeway over to Lindisfarne by 8.00.  It was quiet and very pleasant atmosphere.  I savoured the peace!  The first couple of miles walking was along sea defences and then it was down onto the beach for the next stint.  The sand was firm and the walking reasonable.  It was sunny but the sun was behind me.  I thought that would change tomorrow when I started heading south on the west coast! 

At the end of the beach where the rocks began I rested on a log and took in the view and the atmosphere. I feared that I was approaching civilisation and that my peace would son be shattered.  I walked along the road for a while but soon headed off it again onto a path that was initially very poor in front of Cagie’s Plantation but then improved as it followed the railway track into Berwick.  

The path gained height so that when Berwick approached there was a good view of the bay.  I descended down onto the promenade where there was evidently civil engineering going on and asked a local lady if I could continue along the beach.  She gave me detailed directions that basically entailed keeping to the beach, turning left at the end and into Berwick.

I was just in the mood for some elevenses and what should I pass but a café.  A mug of coffee and scone and jam came to £1.20 so you can see it wasn’t exactly on the tourist trail.  Over the historic bridge and along the city walls of the Tweed made an interesting walk before turning north again with the border well in mind.  

All of a sudden the scenery changed from the dunes of Northumberland to cliffs, waves and sea birds. I strode past a couple of golf courses and a caravan park very much enjoying the scenery and the wildlife.  The outskirts of Berwick died away and I was in the country again.  It was like being back in west Wales.  

I approached another caravan park, this time a much more down market one.  I had to walk through it and then into a field again to get to the border.  I wondered if there would be any sort of sign to say I had reached the border but I needn’t have worried because just inland from where I presumed the border was the main east coast train line had a big sign up saying England – Scotland. 

I took some photographs and made a phone call to my Dad. I think that probably cheered him up as he had recently been diagnosed with anemia and was awaiting some test results.  Margaret was at work so I couldn’t call her so I called a friend instead.  I felt pretty chuffed to have made it this far – a real milestone.

To get back to Berwick I walked back to the caravan site and then onto the main road.  I spotted a bus stop and tried to use my mobile phone to call and see when the next bus was due but nobody seemed to understand where I was so I ended up walking back into Berwick.  

I had a timetable for buses from there back to Beal.  I had time for a celebratory ice cream before the bus arrived.  Although the bus said Beal it actually only went to the turn off for Beal so I hitched my way back to the causeway.  I got a lift from a man from Northern Ireland who now lived in North Wales.

I said goodbye to the east coast and drove down to Newcastle and then over to Once Brewed Youth hostel on Hadrian’s Wall stopping to get some food in Safeways on the way.  The hostel was fine but my meal was oily and I struck up conversation with nobody that night.

 

Day: 245 17/2/02 Warren Mill to Beal

Weather:  Fine, cloudy, breezy.

Distance:  13 km (8.1 miles)    Total Distance:   3139 miles

Breakfast was good overlooking the Farne Islands though there were no sign of any seals at this time of year.  I only had tea and cereal because otherwise he wasn’t going to serve me till 9 o’clock so we agreed I could have a light breakfast earlier.  

Parking at Warren Mill was not that easy.  There was no obvious coastal path route over this next section so I had to keep to the minor roads which were very quiet on a Sunday morning.   I didn’t want to try getting down to the coast because I feared I may get trapped trying to get across a river or something and would have to backtrack a long way. There were no footpaths along the coastal section.

Eventually, I did make it down to the coast via some pretty poor footpaths where the farmer had ploughed up a field.  I decided to try to stick to the coast even though there was no official footpath here – it did look fairly well trodden. There were signs up saying it was a nature reserve and it was a pretty area.  I approached some bird reserves and half expected someone to come out and tell me off.  I passed one box where I think the warden was on the phone but he didn’t seem to mind me being there. 

I carried on and just past Granary Point it got much too marshy to continue so I had to track inland ducking under some barbed wire fences.  The paths were very wet after weeks of recent heavy rain and the last mile or so was difficult going.

I stopped for the day at the causeway over to Lindisfarne.   Again I was an hour or so early for a bus so I started to hitch.  One car stopped but they were going north on the A1 so I left them go knowing that hitching on the A1 itself would be very difficult.  

After another 15 minutes, after I had walked through Beal itself, a very elderly lady in a very small Fiat car stopped and offered me a lift. She had just been to a church service on Lindisfarne.   She was so far forward in her seat that she has to virtually turn backward to talk to me in the passenger seat – this was pretty worrying as every time she did this the car would veer all over the road.  Again she took me out of her way and all the way back to Warren Mill where she stopped in the middle of the road and switched off the engine.  I eventually made my excuses and got away.

Some time later after I had changed my boots I headed for the A1 and I met her again trying to get across the A1 in the small car.  I headed south before I had a chance of seeing her having an accident and blaming myself for it