Day: 241 7/8/01 Blyth to Newbiggin-by-the-Sea

Weather:  Rainy

Distance:  21 km (13 miles)    Total Distance:   3085 miles

It was an overcast day to start.  I struggled with my third cooked breakfast running – Margaret being the wise one and opting not to have one. The family dropped me near the docklands development in Blyth and headed off to explore Newbiggin. 

I skirted Blyth, and headed up the estuary, past some council estates monitored by very prominent CCTV protected by a barbed wire.  It certainly looked a hostile place.  I was glad it was early morning.  I crossed some wasteland laden with what appeared coal waste and scrambled through a hole in a fence and into an industrial estate.  

I was fortunate that there was a good path following the estuary for most of the 2 miles to the nearest bridge over the River Blyth.  I got chatting to a bird watcher who told me what was around and pleased me by appearing open minded and happy that local fishermen were allowed to dig for bait at certain times of the year. Open mindedness in a recently retired person don’t normally go together.

Crossing the river on the road bridge was only a small problem.  I had to scramble up and down both sides to get up to the bridge deck and back down again.  That’s when the fun began. The path down the other side of the estuary was OK but a little overgrown and with the grass being wet my trousers were soon damp.  I turned North, past the farm buildings and tried to find a path up the next estuary but a crop had been planted and it ended up being impassable though in the process of trying I got soaked from the waist down including sodden feet.

I was beginning to loose time and heat at this stage. Just coming out of the village of East Sleekburn after stopping to attempt to dry out one foot, I saw a sign saying a footpath had been created by the power station owners in the interest of the community that was not on the map.  I headed down towards the shore again even though it added a little distance again and got me wetter and not drier.  

The power station was being demolished and the sign had failed to mention it was a no-through path, but fortunately at the far end after some scrambling between a fence and a drop into the sea I ended up in the power station complex itself.  I scampered though the roads leading through the derelict buildings and into the village of Cambois.  I stuck to my rules and headed south the North Bylth – a small conurbation of a 100 odd houses isolated from the rest of Blyth by the river.  I stopped to dry out my other foot realising that it had taken me a good couple of hours to merely cross the river!

I took to the beach, on the top of the dunes and headed North.  At Combois again a pit bull terrier approached under the watchful eye of 2 burly men looking very suspicious working in a lock up garage. They had ‘bite the bugger’ written across their foreheads and looked disappointed when the dog sniffed me as I went past. 

It stared to rain as I took to the road and headed North.  The place was a mess – sort of like an extended derelict industrial estate.  As the road swung left I took refuge in a bus shelter out of the rain to figure out the way.  A track led north up to the estuary and a landing point.  The tide was out and I investigated the possibility of wading across.  Two boys were fishing on the far side and the river looked about waste deep.  I know what would have happened – I would have got stuck in the mud or slipped over.  The only option therefore was to go up to the road bridge towering above the estuary.  Down the northern sandy side of the estuary took me into a caravan camp. I thought I was miserable but what must it have been like stuck inside a damp caravan looking at your neighbours stuck inside theirs!

Eventually, the cliff top path of sorts – led down to Newbiggin-by-the-Sea.  It was now approaching the time when I said I would reach Margaret and the boys in Creswell. There was no way I had the energy or time to get there in 30 minutes.  I decided therefore to call it a day.  We had arranged for Margaret to give me a call on the mobile if I was late but not wanting to worry me she left it quite a while to call – 45 minutes.

I found I couldn’t go into a café and dry off because the phone signal was so poor in the town so I hid in an alleyway for 30 minutes hoping she would call and then ended up walking and hitching out of the town thinking that the alleyway may have been giving a false signal on the mobile and she was not able to contact me.  As I was hitching I took my waterproof off and got wet in the process!  Eventually she phoned and I yomped back to the village, having not got a lift and met her in the Rivera Tea Rooms. What a place.  It was as if time stood still from the 1960s, formica tables, women smoking like chimneys, every person in there related to the owner, 30 slot machines that took 1 and 2ps only – half of them not working!

We headed back to Morpeth for me to have a hot shower and dry out.  I put the radiator on so hot there was a crack and water started to leak from the valve but fortunately when it cooled it stopped.  We went back to the Italian restaurant again and welcomed like lost friends and given free Amaretto after the meal. They must have a bottle they can’t shift like we do in the house too! It was absolutely poring with rain all night.  There was no way I was going walking the next day but had to wait for Margaret to suggest that it probably wasn’t a good idea to go and then promptly agree with her!  We decided to come home that day.

We called in at Sedgfield for morning coffee – an excellent tearooms – no doubt used for photcalls by the Blaire’s on many occasions!  To break the journey later we called in at Everson Castle near where I work in Derby and had more cake – this time in a very weird tea-room!