Day: 244 16/2/02 Craster to Warren Mill

Weather:  Fine, cloudy, breezy

Distance:  26.5 km (16.5 miles)    Total Distance:   3131 miles

Margaret and the boys had taken off to Ireland for half-term and the weather was looking kind so I took advantage of the fact that I had been asked to give a lecture in York University on Friday afternoon to make a weekend of it.  The lecture went well I felt and the 10 or so students were pretty responsive, unlike some lectures I have given in recent years at Warwick which have been painful! 

 I got caught in traffic going around the northern York ring road but once I got onto the A1 it was fine.  I had booked at Charlton House B&B in Alnwick, the youth hostels not being open this time of year.   The B&B was a real treat.  It was nicely furnished and there was a warm welcome.  I had an en-suite attic room and the owner directed me to a pub just down the road for a meal.  It was real northern prices and I had superb chicken enchiladas and a pint for under £5.  As the beer wasn’t too brilliant there I headed up the road in the opposite direction to a Jennings pub I had spotted driving in and had a pint there and read the newspaper. 

In the morning I felt I had to have the Craster Kipper that the B&B had been advertising on the breakfast menu. Unfortunately I think it was THE Craster kipper – the only one they had that had been residing in their freezer for a year or two – at least over winter.  It was pretty tough but put me in the mood for a walk.  I drove to Craster, parked on the harbor front therefore avoiding the car parking fees and set off to Dunsterbourough castle I could see in the distance.   The castle was deserted at that time in the morning – a good time to see it without anyone around, not that I went in of course,  just wandered around the outside and then headed north.     

Embleton Bay was the first time I got down onto the beach and appreciated what people say about this part of the world,  rolling windswept beaches etc.  Low Newton by the Sea had a great little village square in it and a hospitable looking pub but unfortunately no tea shop for a cup of coffee so I pressed on around a couple of headlands and onto the beach again at Beadnell beach.  A sizeable river entered the sea half way along the beach and no matter how long I stood by its edge and wished I could wade across it appeared much too deep for that and I went inland and up over a sizeable footbridge that had been put there fore the purpose of preventing ramblers from drowning. 

The village of Beadnell appeared in the distance. It must have a coffee shop I thought – but no.  After walking through the rambling village and finding nothing I almost gave up all hope when I chanced upon a village shop that doubled up as a bakery and a cheese and onion pasty and cake was the order of the day.  I sat on a bench outside the shop and had my lunch before making my way across the dunes and onto the beach again for the next stint up to Seahouses. 

Just before Seahouses the path took a few doglegs up and along the road and then across the golf course before picking up a coastal path into the town.  A large trawler type vessel had been washed ashore and it appeared that the locals were busy salvaging what they could even to the extent that welding equipment was being used. 

I wasn’t too impressed with Seahouses – it looked a bit resortish, and especially since I had booked an above average price B&B/hotel to stay in here tonight.  I sped through the town keeping to the promenade paths, spotted what I thought was my night’s accommodation and then descended onto the beach once again for the long trek up to Bamburgh .  

As I walked past the castle itself the sun was beginning to set behind it making good views.  I still felt I had a bit of energy left so not wanting to leave too much to do tomorrow I pressed on around the northern headland of Budle Point.  This was more isolated and it was difficult to know whether to walk on the beaches or on the paths above them.  I came back up onto the main road via a farm track and then had a mile walk into Warren Point. 

I had a bus timetable but as it was still an hour till the bus was due to arrive plus the fact that I couldn’t find the bus stop I started to hitch.  A car that had been parked up for a while in the distance tooted and pulled up.  It was a couple from Burnley on holiday in Bamburgh.  He had worked for Lucas but had taken redundancy and she didn’t say a word.  He decided that although they were only going to Bamburgh he would offer me a lift all the way to Craster because he wanted to see what it looked like.  She didn’t want to!  We dropped her off at the hotel and he drove me all the way to my car!  I felt in hindsight I should have offered him a drink in the pub but I left with him peering out to sea wondering I guess whether to ever go back to Bamburgh.

The hotel at Seahouses was pleasant and the owner Malcolm a real character, chatty to say the least!  I had been put in a twin bedroom as the single room was in the part of the hotel where the roof had been blown off in the gales and was being replaced.  I think that was the story but the thing was Malcolm had such a strong accent it was difficult to tell.  To be honest I am not convinced his name was Malcolm – the way his wife pronounced it sounded more like Martin.

I ventured out for tea but failed dismally.  I tried a local pub/restaurant or two.  The restaurant was still advertising a Valentine’s Day Special menu and was completely empty.  I didn’t have the nerve to go in there.  What could be more sad that a single man eating a Valentine’s Day special in an empty restaurant! I can't think I would have been all that welcome anyway.  

The pub was bustling with rowdy drunks and again no room to sit and eat a meal.  That seemed to leave the fish and chip restaurants.  Plenty around I thought – lots of competition to encourage them to make a special effort.  How wrong could I be. It was one of those places with a surly teenage waitress who made me feel I wasn’t welcome in the town let alone the restaurant.  I ordered chicken and chips – sorry chicken off! Made do with fish and chips but had to force it down.  

I went to another pub for a pint to numb the stomach so it would digest the awful meal.  I went back to the hotel so early and blind date was still on but didn’t have the will power to stay long in the lounge and make conversation with Malcolm(?) so went to my room, watched TV and had an early night.   

Day: 243 23/9/01 Warkworth to Craster

Weather:  Fine, cloudy, breezy.

Distance:  20.5 km (12.7 miles)    Total Distance:   3115 miles

This was to be a much better day, if only because it was more eventful and the scenery more varied.  It started with Irene in the B&B telling me the traumas of having one of their guest houses filled with single men on a seven week 7-day a week contract at the nearby Alcan works, and how they tend to get a bit raucous.

I parked in Walkworth and walked down the same track again to the sea. This time though at the bottom of the track where it turned left for the golf course and right for a caravan park was a brand new BMW that had gone straight on and come to rest straddling a concrete block.  There was no sign of it having been stolen so I concluded, may be wrongly, that it was a golfer trying to catch last orders the previous evening at the golf club house!

After a mile walk north along the beach it was necessary to get up onto the cliff top so I cut inland through the golf course, on a public right of way might I add, and then on the cliff top path for a mile.  I didn’t see a hung over sad BMW owner though.  On to the beach again and north onto Alnmouth.  I had half hoped that the river was small enough to wade. There was after all a footpath marked on the map across it but there was no chance.  It was pretty deep and wide.  This meant an hours walk around, first up a hill to a cross and then down to the ruins of an ancient but very small church then over marshland and up onto the main road where I walked along a new Millennium footpath / cycle way that went parallel to the A-road – very nice too.  I met an elderly walker – backpacking his way to Newbiggin and was impressed he had been walking for over a fortnight! 

I hunted for a café in Alnmouth and was pleased when I found one open.  Unfortunately it was very disappointing.  I had the carrot cake and a cup of coffee – both were incredibly small.  I should have said I didn’t want it when I saw the meagre size of the portion but as usual we Brits don’t get cross until after we have left the place.  Instead I seethed and headed north again through the car park and onto the beach.  

At Seaton House I got up onto the cliff tops – well cliffs are a bit of an exaggeration.  The path went through a very weird caravan park – they were all run down and grass was knee high. It was also difficult to find a way through.  Eventually I got back onto the beach and north to Bolmer.  

It was good to get back on some coastal path walking proper.  I walked quickly past a pair of walkers near Howick and then came to an abrupt halt when I realised I had dropped my map – I had rather stupidly been carrying it in the small of my back and it must have slipped out.  I only had to retrace my steps about half a mile when I saw a mum and daughter out for a hike and asked them.  She admitted rather embarrassingly that she had bagged it – better that than leave it there we both agreed!

Just short of Craster I came upon a walking group stopped and pointing out to sea at a school of dolphins – a great spectacle.  They were heading south diving in and out of the water.  When they had gone the party set off only to come to a standstill again.  I barged past them only for me to be embarrassed this time because they had stopped because one of them had a nose bleed – I think they were over-reacting a bit because one of them was trying to find the whistle!

When I waited for a bus in Craster a wide cockney lad called over to me and asked where I was going and offered me a lift.  He was a real Harry Enfield character.  We walked up to his 4X4 and started our hair-raising journey with him grabbing the map off me from time to time.  It was fortunate because a man in a car stopped us and told us the road ahead was blocked – that’s why my bus was late and would probably have never come!  Harry (I’ll call him that even though it probably wasn't his nane!) – was a diver, plumber and virtually everything else I think.

He dropped me at Walkworth, asked I mention him in any book I wrote, and I drove to friends in Brigg where Pam made tea and we then went out for a beer.

Day: 242 22/9/01 Newbiggin-by-the-Sea to Warkworth

Weather:  Fine, sunny intervals, breezy.

Distance:  28 km (17.4 miles)    Total Distance:   3102 miles

Some walking days are pretty non-eventful and this was one of them.  There was nothing wrong with it other than it was non-eventful.  It was reasonable weather, the scenery was good but a little monotonous all long beaches.  It is just that nothing much happened and I didn’t meet any interesting characters.

I was working in Grimsby yesterday and on Monday so decided to make a weekend of it.  My meeting finished by lunchtime so I had lunch in the canteen and drove up in the afternoon to Morpeth and was there by teatime.  I stayed in the same B&B that we has stayed in as a family the previous trip though this time I was allocated a room in the other house, next door but one – a bit confusing!  The atmosphere in the second house was different as it looked full of single rooms and they seemed to have some young workmen staying.  I went to eat in the local curry house, though was disappointed with the chicken tika byrianni as it was the reconstituted chicken that is starting to appear in some of the take-away curries.

I was pretty tired so was asleep by 10.30 and up for breakfast at 7.30 and walking by 9.00.  I parked at the north end of Newbiggin and headed out past the church and caravan site and golf course.  I could see the power station and Alcan works in the distance and kept wondering if I would be able to walk around the outside or would have to cut inland.  

It worked out that I dropped down onto the beach and was able to just about get around that way. I don’t quite know what they were doing at the works but it looked like they were slowly digging up an old landfill site, emptying it onto the beach and getting the sea to take away all the muddy bits. I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything as illegal as that but it looked to me that that is what they were doing! 

I kept to the beach a while longer before coming up onto the road for a short period at Creswell.  I stopped to have a drink from my bag and phoned home.  I had recently bought some virus software for the PC and was concerned that it was timed to come up automatically today which would confuse the kids no end if they turned the PC on ad saw that.  

North of Creswell I dropped down onto Druride Bay.  I didn’t know whether it would be easier to walk on the road or on the beach but I made the correct choice as the sand was firm by the waters edge and it was a huge beach that went on for mile after mile.  There was quite a bit of seaweed washed up in patches and at one stage I was a great starfish with about a dozen fingers coming off it. 

Time for a break at Amble.  As I rounded the point after having to come off the beach only about half a mile before I spotted exactly what I wanted – a café.  I wandered in and it was one of those places – an example of how not to run a business.  Half the tables were covered in clutter, the walls were nicely adorned with various teapots but when my coffee and scone arrived it was on that cheap translucent type glass.  I had ordered scones with jam and cream. It arrived, one scone cut in two with cream from and aerosol can.  There was also a women in the corner who burst into laughter whenever anyone moved in and shouted ‘shop’.  The real laugh was in the toilet where a sign above the toilet, obviously written by a friend of theirs in the highways department of the council warned people it was an electric toilet and on no account was it to be used – seemingly for anything.  The sign was so big one had to stand at the other end of the room to be able to focus on it!

I walked out over the pier that took a left hand right angled turn and joined up with the land again.  A short walk though the back streets and cut down by the yacht club got me to the estuary and then the road following the river up to Warkworth.  There was plenty of bird life on the estuary which was interesting.  

Warkworth is a pretty village and as I had plenty of time and energy I decided to knock some of tomorrows miles off by going down to the beach again and walking around the peninsular.  At the very tip whilst I was taking a break and having a drink a very elderly couple appeared off the pier and headed north along the beach. Great to see old people making the effort to get out.

I hitched for a while in the village but only half-heartily and then got the bus to Ashington, that seemed to go around Amble about three times!  At Amble I changed busses and caught one to Newbiggin – no problem at all.

That evening in the B&B I went to happy hour in the Italian restaurant  and came back to watch George Best, Elton John and David Beckham and Posh Spice on Parkinson.

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!

Day: 240 6/8/01 Whitley Bay to Blyth

Weather: Sunny intervals.

Distance:  14 km (8.7 miles) Total Distance: 3072 miles

We had travelled down from Stirling at the end of a fine holiday in Beauley near Inverness where we had rented a log cabin for a week.  We then called off on Stirling on the way back so we could visit Edinburgh and the festival yesterday.  It had been a great day, going into town on the train and then wandering the streets all day looking at the street entertainers and then the parade that opened the three-week festival.  

The previous evening at the B&B had also been strange.  An elderly South African lady had been staying and we think woke up in a confused state and started to wander around all the bedrooms and strolled into the boys room as they were getting ready for bed which rather frightened them.  When we met her in the morning she was perfectly OK and told us how her father had been the Lord Mayor of Johannesburg and when she was little they had entertained many famous heads of State including a Prince from England. 

We got to Whitley Bay by around late lunchtime and I found where I had stopped last time.  Margaret took the car and headed up to Blyth and I walked North along promenades and cliff top path, not a lot of cliff top though.  I got talking to a partially sighted lady that had become un-nerved when a small motorised street cleaner went past brushing sand from the promenade.  She retired to the area and loved it. 

St Mary’s Head looked good and there was quite a crowd out walking the path.  I talked to a lady and it transpired she had just been on holiday to Conway Holiday Fellowship.  It brought back a lot of memories. 

Seaton Sluice is very much a sluice with a deep gully taking the river out to sea.  I crossed on a low footbridge and then onto the beach north for a couple of miles.

Things looked worse as I approached Blyth. The seaside looked derelict which is pretty difficult as all it is is a beach.  I ended up in the docks area and had to backtrack half a mile as there was no way out.  The houses this side if Blyth were mainly small but kept reasonably.  I walked though a very well maintained park – a real jewel, before finding the inevitable quayside redevelopment. 

Margaret and the boys turned up just as I did.  They had been for a look around the town.  They moved the car to the town car park and I went off in search of a map as I had just walked off the edge of the previous one.   I eventually found one in Smith's and spent my mother-in-laws book token on it. I bet she thinks I spend them on intelligent reading matter!

There then followed a frustrating two hours looking for a bed and breakfast.  It was the only accommodation that we had not booked in advance.  We pulled into Ellington and found one B&B and Margaret went in to enquire but reported back that there was something she felt was not quite right about it – especially the way the landlady didn’t appear at all keen to want any guests staying – a bit bizarre for a person running a B&B! 

We went down to Cresswell on the coast, then up the coast past a sign saying road closed which indeed it was after 2 miles! – back again! And up to Amble – Nothing at all. Then we found the pretty village of Warkworth . We found one B&B on a housing estate that I didn’t fancy – I wasn’t coning from Coventry to stay on a housing estate.  We drove around in a big circle getting cross and then back to Warkworth. Eventually Margaret went into one that was full but kind enough to phone around many in the area – only to find them all full.  We headed south and all the way into Morpeth where we saw a sign off the main road pointing to a B&B.  It was perfect – a old big stone terraced house run by a man from Dublin.  He even offered to take us around to the town to show us a good Italian restaurant that was OK with the kids and indeed it was – good value for money food in a good busy atmosphere.