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.
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