tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-47186741103226385622024-02-06T22:11:46.756-08:00Travels around the coastTom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-56897942310684520042017-01-30T02:01:00.000-08:002017-01-30T02:01:36.495-08:0026 August 2015 - Mynydd Cilan to Llanengan - 3 Miles by foot"It is a very long way to go for a 3 mile walk", This is the only comment I have had from a family member about this walk. My son was right, but logistics regarding the availability of public transport and the simple fact that the whole coast must be walked or cycled dictated the choice of route. I could have stayed overnight, but the cost of the rail ticket at a little over £20 was much lower than a B&B. In any case, I do like traveling by rail.<br />
<br />
The railway by now was familiar. Take the 0540 train to Smethwick Galton Bridge followed by the 0630 train to Machynlleth. From there, it was the simple matter of taking the 0857 which arrived in Pwllheli at 1112.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqJHKK8BZWSvMS8k5h2lTXIK8CqYNXg0qlK5FGQJltA9-veZsTY2M6nAlmxyTdX-NrmgyOK0LO7lMJtHwWdRAD0v33vGJt6Vf8WCMm0zO7jJD6buEme2k4p2dyKR2FkkAmOVcKIv61zFY/s1600/P1040855.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXqJHKK8BZWSvMS8k5h2lTXIK8CqYNXg0qlK5FGQJltA9-veZsTY2M6nAlmxyTdX-NrmgyOK0LO7lMJtHwWdRAD0v33vGJt6Vf8WCMm0zO7jJD6buEme2k4p2dyKR2FkkAmOVcKIv61zFY/s320/P1040855.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pwllheli Market</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Arriving at Pwllheli, I found that the open air market was in full swing, so I spent a few minutes inspecting the stalls before catching the number 18 bus at 1205. The bus took me on a brisk journey through Abersoch and many country lanes before depositing me at Mynydd Cilan, near the extremity of the Lleyn Peninsula.<br />
<br />
I started my journey at 1240 under blue skies with a light wind and a pleasant walking temperature. The route took me along a lane to the hamlet of Pen-y-groes which turned out to be a single whitewashed cottage.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jixem8uzezw/Vts4w6FfFiI/AAAAAAAAMJg/qZ-RFcfzU0c/s1600/P1040858.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Jixem8uzezw/Vts4w6FfFiI/AAAAAAAAMJg/qZ-RFcfzU0c/s320/P1040858.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Pen-y-groes</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Onwards now and a descent over fields appropriately called Greenland until after 1 mile (13:33) I reached the south eastern end of the very long beach called Porth Neigwl or "Hell's Mouth". Despite the name, the surroundings were very attractive and the view swept around the bay to hills in the distance.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EP6udiEek0Y1mQr15Kn8yAB-l3tGEFrx9772tNnHvVfqX4UNzBXO3HhlDtEXJX-mvQHZiQs4ch2KiNfReOKP0U3rpY1j8jSsVDOpqU8wzzTurcK7WudFTJdG5RFeE-v5o86I3LC0KXaE/s1600/P1040860.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2EP6udiEek0Y1mQr15Kn8yAB-l3tGEFrx9772tNnHvVfqX4UNzBXO3HhlDtEXJX-mvQHZiQs4ch2KiNfReOKP0U3rpY1j8jSsVDOpqU8wzzTurcK7WudFTJdG5RFeE-v5o86I3LC0KXaE/s320/P1040860.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Porth Neigwl</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Further along the beach I came across many surfers having fun in the waves that rolled in from the Irish Sea. Myself, I like to keep my feet firmly planted on the ground.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhUi3fDTvI_yeZWXgvT5rE7E6P2JcWIQGvIfkRGipLJVGojnBqWHAffQjGxZLi57UFWGthaS9tY3DVCuy5_SXWu5fDrGB_nPs4WKmpdG3v0X6aXKVa2-Yk_F8HIG4e90Yka5QBtpfetxD/s1600/P1040865.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkhUi3fDTvI_yeZWXgvT5rE7E6P2JcWIQGvIfkRGipLJVGojnBqWHAffQjGxZLi57UFWGthaS9tY3DVCuy5_SXWu5fDrGB_nPs4WKmpdG3v0X6aXKVa2-Yk_F8HIG4e90Yka5QBtpfetxD/s320/P1040865.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Surfers at <span style="text-align: start;">Porth Neigwl</span></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was time now to turn inland to Pentowyn - 2 miles (13:50), a collection of half a dozen houses. The inland slopes are dominated by a high chimney which at one time ventilated the lead mine at Llanengan.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P4i2QIVUYAMZglfp_P3sURuaOasc-CaotqkdEWVhyi4i5-AW6UM0-GOFy7wpt058f08B12XieMmxe64TOsd1lKQnnim5HGPcvTvvoNpW76_yT4t3BX-FsbT-ysyAoGrm2vrNIs5yvq7_/s1600/P1040869.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-P4i2QIVUYAMZglfp_P3sURuaOasc-CaotqkdEWVhyi4i5-AW6UM0-GOFy7wpt058f08B12XieMmxe64TOsd1lKQnnim5HGPcvTvvoNpW76_yT4t3BX-FsbT-ysyAoGrm2vrNIs5yvq7_/s320/P1040869.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Ventilation chimney near Llanengan</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I quickly reached Llanengan at 14:02, my destination, after an easy 3 miles stroll. There was time to admire the village church before catching the 14:36 bus back to Pwllheli.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuxDN5cYt9bO9s0mkYPd_YMzWavALXKtxlMqdhkoVH0BKeQbw3T7Fm00n_H062wvDA9uz_1KGNjw5voeA7v9L7BfmPEmMz99_5_I-cEOfGDmVNVnAL-L6Izh_j-eQw6YFjIsFlvtEWj_j/s1600/P1040870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjuxDN5cYt9bO9s0mkYPd_YMzWavALXKtxlMqdhkoVH0BKeQbw3T7Fm00n_H062wvDA9uz_1KGNjw5voeA7v9L7BfmPEmMz99_5_I-cEOfGDmVNVnAL-L6Izh_j-eQw6YFjIsFlvtEWj_j/s320/P1040870.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;">Llanengan Church</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I had time for a meal at the Pen Cob in Pwllheli before taking the 15:37 train home after a satisfying day out.Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-27613543020878958412016-01-01T12:03:00.000-08:002016-01-02T11:23:26.404-08:00Bangor to Caernarfon - 7 October 2015 - 9 miles on footMy journey to Bangor via Smethwick, Wolverhampton, Crewe and Chester was delayed by about half an hour at Chester through delays and cancellations on the Arriva Trains Wales service.<br /><br />Eventually, I boarded a Virgin Trains service to Holyhead which deposited me in Bangor at 1228. The Virgin Trains sense of humour was evident from the notice attached to the toilet seat.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt63CJ_EA40M9ydLOUyJLMiElstNMgK_MRFqdJU322wtnJs4TO8u2GN64Pq9_J96sjm182qQOvQ4mWhOZacCxEUdAoi8g0k0D9MSrA0mM4sn8C30B8TS28fmk4YUc6CVWXonbuADoTMdUg/s1600/IMG_20151007_114144.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgt63CJ_EA40M9ydLOUyJLMiElstNMgK_MRFqdJU322wtnJs4TO8u2GN64Pq9_J96sjm182qQOvQ4mWhOZacCxEUdAoi8g0k0D9MSrA0mM4sn8C30B8TS28fmk4YUc6CVWXonbuADoTMdUg/s320/IMG_20151007_114144.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Virgin Trains!</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />The path from the station led upwards with views of the roofs of Bangor and on to the A5122 and the imposing stone structure of the Coleg Menai.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZmYZiMoa4BxPeCxKHgxS6KDZTRGcmflhx0wjs5sVcQr3KwHwcCbkU3JQsvXLym8PvZVbrMsBEyvCA-mkNn9eOrcwdMh2vHVv4iBx9TwxqHEGNvrmSpzBPLFgmQC8cq0qWvif0EF4qeoV/s1600/P1040900.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihZmYZiMoa4BxPeCxKHgxS6KDZTRGcmflhx0wjs5sVcQr3KwHwcCbkU3JQsvXLym8PvZVbrMsBEyvCA-mkNn9eOrcwdMh2vHVv4iBx9TwxqHEGNvrmSpzBPLFgmQC8cq0qWvif0EF4qeoV/s320/P1040900.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Coleg Menai</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Walking along the road, I caught occasional glimpses of the Menai and Britannia Bridges above the rooftops and the trees, but was unable to gain an uninterupted view without deviating significantly from my route.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXurHCnbzAj9YecynojzfUv_NS-5LMkNyzFalwjzo6Lxn06eFQwbWJM1dx3XJydB3X356o_6DUgqOlLX5hAnzbp5PSZQWrx0Mtb2eMa1FOK5TxzStbIW3Ts5HILExt0Hy4n2mpLMuONHp5/s1600/P1040901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXurHCnbzAj9YecynojzfUv_NS-5LMkNyzFalwjzo6Lxn06eFQwbWJM1dx3XJydB3X356o_6DUgqOlLX5hAnzbp5PSZQWrx0Mtb2eMa1FOK5TxzStbIW3Ts5HILExt0Hy4n2mpLMuONHp5/s320/P1040901.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Menai and Britannia Bridges - almost</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />I continued along the main road, now the A487, to Capel-y-graig (1320 - 3 miles). Although there was a foot/cycle path along the road, the noise of the traffic made for uncomfortable albeit safe walking.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFMF-xTtqIaiaZc44905GlmmkLrVeJluPjlgD8mC3YucxzYBSoi9L0Rt468HP4aldv8RfNvPhyMfKwfhy1zWgxM231Kzn5tnfANHP6naD3cHnEJ5wkw_52oBAUnyhDn9GnYlnaforHr10N/s1600/P1040904.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFMF-xTtqIaiaZc44905GlmmkLrVeJluPjlgD8mC3YucxzYBSoi9L0Rt468HP4aldv8RfNvPhyMfKwfhy1zWgxM231Kzn5tnfANHP6naD3cHnEJ5wkw_52oBAUnyhDn9GnYlnaforHr10N/s320/P1040904.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disused railway</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />I was really pleased to reach the disused railway that once connected Bangor and Caernarfon. This made for pleasant, traffic free walking with views of the Menai Strait. The walking now seemed effortless and I soon arrived at Y Felinheli (1405 - 5 miles).<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZew9WFFmjTLh6giQBaIHg69xR1YPYOYvWLDkx1us8i8JcsitkVX54smo6Sh9CCCjKTMdkYXn_s8DLZzgEQBVVblpY7lhObv3ZIFn-Qqw_o0Ed-gJi2laVysKu8aiJNPh9DbtSwQq3qWQ-/s1600/P1040906.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZew9WFFmjTLh6giQBaIHg69xR1YPYOYvWLDkx1us8i8JcsitkVX54smo6Sh9CCCjKTMdkYXn_s8DLZzgEQBVVblpY7lhObv3ZIFn-Qqw_o0Ed-gJi2laVysKu8aiJNPh9DbtSwQq3qWQ-/s320/P1040906.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Y-Felinheli Harbour</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />This village was once a lime and slate port, but has now been transformed into an attractive marina. On leaving the village, I passed through an attractive residential development that incorporated a lime kiln chimney.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvK7G9ylg_PWj8Zg3BbOmgIx6fOX5G-fY5frnjY3LfmGCMgga7GPx5nL3DpsYE98sDpVwoGAumAZN2KobxJICnp30es9JV8_qesrfS8EeRXxKWsJOWCE_FSaTrqx3VUYktesg-SoLLirEo/s1600/P1040908.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvK7G9ylg_PWj8Zg3BbOmgIx6fOX5G-fY5frnjY3LfmGCMgga7GPx5nL3DpsYE98sDpVwoGAumAZN2KobxJICnp30es9JV8_qesrfS8EeRXxKWsJOWCE_FSaTrqx3VUYktesg-SoLLirEo/s320/P1040908.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lime Kiln chimney at the bottom of they garden</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />Onwards along the disused railway with lovely views to Anglesey and Castell-Gwylan (atractive but castle in name only).<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hNT67U3VSb4/VobY1mtDAzI/AAAAAAAAMHo/qiXxsxTNyxU/s1600/P1040912.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hNT67U3VSb4/VobY1mtDAzI/AAAAAAAAMHo/qiXxsxTNyxU/s320/P1040912.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Castell-Gwylan</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />The final part of walk was very easy and I soon found myself at Caernarfon Harbour (1520 - 9 miles). The harbour buildings had been tastefully modernised and the Castle looked over the comings and goings solidly and impassively.<br /><br /><table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody><tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gVFaD_pud9A/VobY5w9zEJI/AAAAAAAAMIY/azaCUy10mNw/s1600/P1040918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-gVFaD_pud9A/VobY5w9zEJI/AAAAAAAAMIY/azaCUy10mNw/s320/P1040918.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr><tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Caernarfon Harbour</td></tr></tbody></table><br /><br />A short wait was required in the unspoiled shopping centre before I was taken back to Bangor by the number 5 bus. I enjoyed a pie and a pint at the Black Bull before I boarded the 1718 train, arriving home withour delays before 2200.Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-21975704271892193832015-07-24T11:53:00.001-07:002015-07-24T11:53:31.143-07:00Porthmadog to Criccieth - 29 October 2014 - 8 miles on footIt was an early train to Smethwick Galton Bridge and a 15 minute wait before catching the Arriva Trains Wales service to Machynlleth, where I changed trains, arriving at Porthmadog at 10:49.<br />
<br />
The dominating feature on leaving the train was the factory-like Tesco supermarket that did allow me to stock up with provisions prior to my walk. The sky was blue, the wind light and the temperature was to be expected for a late October day.<br />
<br />
Porthmadog itself was somewhat drab for what I would regard as a resort. The shops on the main streets were original but appeared unloved. There were no architectural atrocities with the exception of the aforementioned Tesco - but, even in Porthmadog, people have to eat!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8VsGNruIj0IsNY2iBS3KjAb7pYbyoSiwrTr0bTKC7djmixi4d6roW58M6Gys6nkhTZHzQQdLEysSQMJ5CDr0MbN__82RwGIJbhfheAhY42BZruO97IP0retFLlyD3rXnl08w9dkNPj6W/s1600/P1040445.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH8VsGNruIj0IsNY2iBS3KjAb7pYbyoSiwrTr0bTKC7djmixi4d6roW58M6Gys6nkhTZHzQQdLEysSQMJ5CDr0MbN__82RwGIJbhfheAhY42BZruO97IP0retFLlyD3rXnl08w9dkNPj6W/s320/P1040445.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Porthmadog Harbour<br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Reaching the harbour, my mood was lifted by the sight of the boats, the sound of the rigging and the smell of the sea. I followed the track alongside the Afon Glaslyn and the boatyards until the lovely village of Borth y Gest was reached (11:35 - 1.5 miles). The setting is sublime - The typical Welsh stone cottages almost dip their toes in the small tidal cove surrounded by green.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ogrm8bCMhlQAaTxRMi6K6S02nR1P3yMqIl5buDkW5rBNBYsdZZLsU5yAiNSG8WJbCsUN0RQMOxJXzX3ON2M5ftt3eysNmDYXkjkRJdqU3xi2NqO7ZtWrcFPvHCC_TYBL0zBRwCNq0C7O/s1600/P1040447.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0Ogrm8bCMhlQAaTxRMi6K6S02nR1P3yMqIl5buDkW5rBNBYsdZZLsU5yAiNSG8WJbCsUN0RQMOxJXzX3ON2M5ftt3eysNmDYXkjkRJdqU3xi2NqO7ZtWrcFPvHCC_TYBL0zBRwCNq0C7O/s320/P1040447.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Borth y Gest</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The path took me over low cliffs and sand dunes until the wide expanse of Black Rock Sands was reached (12:00 - 2.5 miles). The sands made up the longest part of the walk and holiday makers were enjoying the few remaining days of good weather until the onset of winter. The sands are also accessible to private cars and many drivers had ventured onto the sands, parking their vehicles well above tide's reach.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcgUjkY7lWNKQGZ_tiZhAMw5bO129uuZldDBleyvo7HYdr9K5OiPZoEhXHkpFdJoycgbwGh5AQCDAfMHqHdU-3Pqhs-Si7UWpp8fHqesE2NPRhhQoPlxX2GMMsCTWyqzdAuAafQdxSUETS/s1600/P1040454.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcgUjkY7lWNKQGZ_tiZhAMw5bO129uuZldDBleyvo7HYdr9K5OiPZoEhXHkpFdJoycgbwGh5AQCDAfMHqHdU-3Pqhs-Si7UWpp8fHqesE2NPRhhQoPlxX2GMMsCTWyqzdAuAafQdxSUETS/s320/P1040454.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Black Rock Sands</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
For most of the walk along the sands, the beckoning hill top castle of Criccieth remained in constant view. At the hill of Craig Ddu, it was necessary to venture inland, where I could enjoy the view towards Snowdonia from a higher vantage point.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwN7poCUljlEuq0KEPaQ3QSVp746ijJvqX2UDWZb0RH0yIFYQf7qCBLd4lrnjCPUf2XiyTSKOb31Hy3DoFuidwFcybH6A_SqkXUEpgLipSbP17xpZ_JNOLEf-6kf5nbPLN2UwAzaQBPEP/s1600/P1040457.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOwN7poCUljlEuq0KEPaQ3QSVp746ijJvqX2UDWZb0RH0yIFYQf7qCBLd4lrnjCPUf2XiyTSKOb31Hy3DoFuidwFcybH6A_SqkXUEpgLipSbP17xpZ_JNOLEf-6kf5nbPLN2UwAzaQBPEP/s320/P1040457.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Craig Ddu</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After a little while, I crossed the railway line (1308 - 5.2 miles) and walked alongside green meadows before recrossing the railway and continuing into Criccieth on the beach side track, reaching the castle at 1340 (7 miles).<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqg2MBP2obkC8cgIhI_b8ll53EjZo5N6yZT_I2ffutyRntCvlPrnxKhFbX2dChZS5X25HD5-Y5y5EJ5FY7bI1NuiBXSw_Crlfbl-zlOnL7o3jkLSaLuzpzG5bvRR7Qto-mFUY9ayiQnHJC/s1600/P1040458.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqg2MBP2obkC8cgIhI_b8ll53EjZo5N6yZT_I2ffutyRntCvlPrnxKhFbX2dChZS5X25HD5-Y5y5EJ5FY7bI1NuiBXSw_Crlfbl-zlOnL7o3jkLSaLuzpzG5bvRR7Qto-mFUY9ayiQnHJC/s320/P1040458.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Criccieth</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I had plenty of time to walk around the lovely town, eat my lunch of fish and chips at the cafe in Castle Street followed by an Ice cream from Cadwaladers across the road before walking the final yards to the station where I caught the 15:51 train home.<br />
<br />Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-2685763868661007062015-07-23T10:47:00.000-07:002015-07-23T10:47:00.753-07:00Harlech to Porthmadog - 22 July 2015 - 10 Miles by BikeAnother very early start to catch the first (6:30am) train out of Smethwick Galton Bridge for my journey to Harlech, changing at Machynlleth to travel along the scenic Cambrian Coast Line. I had delayed this journey for some time whilst waiting for the Pont Briwet Bridge to be rebuilt following storm damage a couple of years or so ago. The rail bridge had been opened opened a few months earlier, but I had to wait until two days before my journey for the road / bike / pedestrian route to be available.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYCCGTrB2Ni5QVCD4xyazA1CD4cYVYGRgUYJKJsTKJ9DJ6WrVumX_JibSQNkVt9uBhVuMD6Kd9Ikliwv_EY01boc6o_uYBaTPfenamjxBmQPNOyvKSAWq-WXQk5p_zZ9F0R6wlNjBWYIb/s1600/P1040806.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibYCCGTrB2Ni5QVCD4xyazA1CD4cYVYGRgUYJKJsTKJ9DJ6WrVumX_JibSQNkVt9uBhVuMD6Kd9Ikliwv_EY01boc6o_uYBaTPfenamjxBmQPNOyvKSAWq-WXQk5p_zZ9F0R6wlNjBWYIb/s320/P1040806.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Harlech Castle</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The train arrived at Harlech on time at 10:25 and soon I was cycling, or rather walking up the steep hill next to old grey stones of Harlech Castle. The sky was overcast and there were a few people around, but the expected hoards of tourists were thankfully missing. Harlech is an attractive small town containing a mixture of stone and whitewashed houses. At the crossroads, I turned left onto the B4573 and was quickly hurtling downhill out of Harlech with trees on both sides and occasional glimpses of Glaslyn estuary on my left. Soon, the road leveled out onto the coastal plain and I continued to Tygwyn (11:10 - 3.5 miles).<br />
<br />
At Tygwyn, I joined the surprisingly quiet A496 and pedaled on to the village of Talsarnau which lined the road with stone and whitewashed cottages and the occasional chapel.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJWzyrVsscwGzwr6rPwd__mZT8nwLxo92HcNj1h6boI_2pSPchgRK1E53VFkdcUVCFA89d5pDZL9RYWllL4Rd89Gzrg9Ae8Sprmd4IJ3FwydzJ6YjWhkHKYs7iXP_8tbAaFIh6b07UDkG/s1600/P1040808.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeJWzyrVsscwGzwr6rPwd__mZT8nwLxo92HcNj1h6boI_2pSPchgRK1E53VFkdcUVCFA89d5pDZL9RYWllL4Rd89Gzrg9Ae8Sprmd4IJ3FwydzJ6YjWhkHKYs7iXP_8tbAaFIh6b07UDkG/s320/P1040808.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Talsarnau</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Continuing along the road, I reached the turning to the rebuilt Pont Briwet at Llandecwyn (11:26 - 5.8 miles). Except for work continuing on the approach roads, the bridge is now complete and offers excellent views upstream for walkers or cyclists. The downstream views are better appreciated from the train!<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w7d6EIf0OJk/VbEAsVGgcVI/AAAAAAAAL_4/EL46tM549is/s1600/P1040809.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-w7d6EIf0OJk/VbEAsVGgcVI/AAAAAAAAL_4/EL46tM549is/s320/P1040809.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from Pont Briwet</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<br />
Onwards to Penrhyndeudraeth (11:40 - 6.5 miles) where I met a couple of visitors from London who were looking for Snowdonia. I pointed them towards Ffestiniog and continued on my way into the village, another well kept hamlet similar to those I had already passed through. The village did possess a few interesting features including a nicely painted green corrugated iron shed, a railway bridge and three ancient tractors. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cIJvthn2-AA/VbEAu2fuUHI/AAAAAAAAMAQ/hv96kRQjiI0/s1600/P1040812.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-cIJvthn2-AA/VbEAu2fuUHI/AAAAAAAAMAQ/hv96kRQjiI0/s320/P1040812.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small; text-align: start;">Penrhyndeudraeth</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Shortly after leaving the green shed, I cycled under the Ffestiniog Railway (11:53 - 7.8 miles) through a narrow stone arch. Despite hearing noises in the distance, the picture I took does not include a steam train.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLw-EtU3RRSJ8cyq59dSkBIZF7Eb1UNoigO59n_sYtwVLlPj78rj-7-sArUuylod4cXpgBk0wbmrQxlO0cvtKojlRT13ARqqc0hIRHKs3LreEd8EsGpybcDtF_9u4BWRm9Y09jlmT6Jrl/s1600/P1040813.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJLw-EtU3RRSJ8cyq59dSkBIZF7Eb1UNoigO59n_sYtwVLlPj78rj-7-sArUuylod4cXpgBk0wbmrQxlO0cvtKojlRT13ARqqc0hIRHKs3LreEd8EsGpybcDtF_9u4BWRm9Y09jlmT6Jrl/s320/P1040813.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ffestiniog Railway bridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
One of the tractors I encountered soon afterwards looked as though it had just emerged from the showroom. The other two were in a ruinous state.<br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6EMR1F6GozCTcxRhnm-pui9KQ6AJvMiAHZpbHiBWLnAqjNWm9aQlygNzT6tegydfIthwqSj_mE-PISdKlqfef9ixsxtXjcsC04Zf2S_fh7PDD-lZotGEi1V5nmze_gWDBdW4lCL7UFLK/s1600/P1040814.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6EMR1F6GozCTcxRhnm-pui9KQ6AJvMiAHZpbHiBWLnAqjNWm9aQlygNzT6tegydfIthwqSj_mE-PISdKlqfef9ixsxtXjcsC04Zf2S_fh7PDD-lZotGEi1V5nmze_gWDBdW4lCL7UFLK/s320/P1040814.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Pristine tractor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I continued to the Cob, the causeway which takes both road and Ffestiniog Railway over the Glaslyn River to Porthmadog.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RTByPr8KXJk/VbEAx5TinSI/AAAAAAAAMAw/yUDjMurwpfY/s1600/P1040816.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RTByPr8KXJk/VbEAx5TinSI/AAAAAAAAMAw/yUDjMurwpfY/s320/P1040816.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">View from The Cob</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Arriving at Porthmadog (12:20 - 10 miles), I had a real treat as a steam train made its way across the main road and continued on its way towards Ffestiniog.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStdasf0i6dk1DHOhJ78J38_IqpSC8bfASxFy5akexLs96JRKGI2b67musnQ2aXvEjBcag6aI2dlw9Rh6yOuzTP2p7z3JerUaWQQWfaiRcLg0reobYYrTIkX8B_fK1xW881W62-Se4mgHy/s1600/P1040818.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgStdasf0i6dk1DHOhJ78J38_IqpSC8bfASxFy5akexLs96JRKGI2b67musnQ2aXvEjBcag6aI2dlw9Rh6yOuzTP2p7z3JerUaWQQWfaiRcLg0reobYYrTIkX8B_fK1xW881W62-Se4mgHy/s320/P1040818.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ffestiniog Railway</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was then time for food. I visited Allports Fish and Chip shop and devoured my purchase at the nearby park, close to the Ffestiniog Railway and overlooking the Glaslyn Lake.<br />
<br />
I had plenty of time before my train at 2:00, so I visited the Station Inn for a pint before my uneventful but punctual return train home.<br />
<br />Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-32987391473093115932015-06-14T09:00:00.001-07:002015-06-14T09:00:17.827-07:00Mynydd Cilan to Abersoch - 5 miles on footTuesday 26 May 2015<br />
<br />
As usual with a one day walk in Wales, I took the early train, arriving at Pwllheli at 1205 and took the 18 bus to Mynydd Cilan towards the south west end of the Lleyn Peninsula. I arrived at just after 1300 and began my walk, initially through the village of Nant-y-Big (1315) and onwards to the coast path.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qRM1C71z3wQ/VX2gwF79mbI/AAAAAAAAL8Q/7doQl3ip4Cc/s1600/P1040585.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-qRM1C71z3wQ/VX2gwF79mbI/AAAAAAAAL8Q/7doQl3ip4Cc/s320/P1040585.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Converted chapel at Mynedd Cilan</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
The day was pleasant, but cloudy with a slight breeze - ideal for walking, really. The way sloped downwards to the broad sandy beach as I walked accompanied by a number of families with small children equipped with appropriate tools for building sandcastles.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm5_jNDuakJg6YepPVgKOaOMt_jXojlLZwFLwN1GIIEsOrsngWxCDYtidhFW-p2yHKV3DLHILDHkJdXMlPgfhf9Yt2fn0t66S6VW34TJq4MkCNthr5Z6wOf6MKxuEoWvrQaZFD7NqGZedP/s1600/P1040588.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgm5_jNDuakJg6YepPVgKOaOMt_jXojlLZwFLwN1GIIEsOrsngWxCDYtidhFW-p2yHKV3DLHILDHkJdXMlPgfhf9Yt2fn0t66S6VW34TJq4MkCNthr5Z6wOf6MKxuEoWvrQaZFD7NqGZedP/s320/P1040588.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Porth Ceiriad Beach</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Soon our routes parted and I continued up the slope where I had excellent views of the beach below and the cliffs ahead towards the headland at Trwyn yr Wylfa (1330). The undulating path took me past the islands of St Tudwals, where I was delighted to see several dolphins swimming and occasionally leaping out of the water. These creatures were pursued by groups of tourists in small boats trying to capture the show with there cameras. I believe my vantage point was both better for viewing and kinder to the dolphins.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nuMkMNK6qBU/VX2g0lKgVUI/AAAAAAAAL84/FQHi6YYuFMo/s1600/P1040590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-nuMkMNK6qBU/VX2g0lKgVUI/AAAAAAAAL84/FQHi6YYuFMo/s320/P1040590.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
St Tudwals Islands</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWWVcRzuOLfcu07V45qQrI5K-U3PGeKbNylHnZMqwWfP6NxY_8uwfzkVnz5dqM91BC9YJAUdhGyn12AIFXOQXuL3D5zcVLlsinZLAK2UPhGeZcZSG2ZRuQII6tlrPkM5hj-xqTHS2ArfFO/s1600/P1040596.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWWVcRzuOLfcu07V45qQrI5K-U3PGeKbNylHnZMqwWfP6NxY_8uwfzkVnz5dqM91BC9YJAUdhGyn12AIFXOQXuL3D5zcVLlsinZLAK2UPhGeZcZSG2ZRuQII6tlrPkM5hj-xqTHS2ArfFO/s320/P1040596.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Gorse bushes and Snowdonia</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
I continued along the coast path past bright orange gorse bushes to the village of Machroes (1420) which boasted several white painted stone cottages and an old boathouse tucked in between the sand and the cliff. By now, the weather had warmed up and there was some sun. This appears to have brought out the holidaymakers who were either lazing or cavorting along the stretch of sand all the way to Abersoch (1440).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jXhqpUDDd98/VX2g7ElfQtI/AAAAAAAAL9w/GK2TcxknH8E/s1600/P1040597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jXhqpUDDd98/VX2g7ElfQtI/AAAAAAAAL9w/GK2TcxknH8E/s320/P1040597.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Machroes boathouse<br />
<br /></div>
I had a little time before my bus was due to arrive, so had my usual fish and chips followed by a cornet of local icecream. It was then time to make my way back to Pwllheli and the train home.<br />
<br />Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-91158078293691853012015-01-03T11:03:00.000-08:002015-01-03T11:03:20.849-08:00Llanrhystud to Aberaeron - 14 April 2014 - 8 miles on footI appear to be slipping into bad habits. This is my first blog for some time, although I am still continuing to manage about one outing each month. Thus chastened, I shall try to write up each blog soon after the journey and catch up on all the other trips I have not yet written about.<br />
<br />
The early (0630) train from Smethwick Galton Bridge brought me into Aberystwyth on schedule at 0915. The First number 40 bus departed from opposite the Railway Station and deposited me in Llanrhystud outside the Black Lion Inn at 1000, where I had completed a previous walk (details later).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEhl58ox4y1I8Fr7foj9oziYUewOL1ogkO2YYYNprheaSkxmgCPrR6_i5Hg7TJhoMwVjgotMfH9gYzRttMNO-5POojAHlBHjjmbYmsbmYL0EK2xz6T8fDOmE7PVXu1YfBx8REGclSYcwX/s1600/P1040032.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAEhl58ox4y1I8Fr7foj9oziYUewOL1ogkO2YYYNprheaSkxmgCPrR6_i5Hg7TJhoMwVjgotMfH9gYzRttMNO-5POojAHlBHjjmbYmsbmYL0EK2xz6T8fDOmE7PVXu1YfBx8REGclSYcwX/s1600/P1040032.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I spent a few minutes exploring the narrow streets, whitewashed stone cottages and attractive church with a tower before moving on my way. The weather was cool, but bright and occasionally sunny - perfect for walking.<br />
<br />
I walked down the main street and along a narrow lane past sheep and lamb filled fields against a backdrop of gentle wooded hills. Within 1 mile (1021), I arrived at the grey pebble and shingle beach backed by low cliffs that rose from the end of the lane.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hDAHpwkzwJ8/U1YguX6PgaI/AAAAAAAALv0/dnW1trsbtxc/s1600/P1040041.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hDAHpwkzwJ8/U1YguX6PgaI/AAAAAAAALv0/dnW1trsbtxc/s1600/P1040041.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
My walk took me along the Wales Coast Path across fields, passing some abandoned stone-built lime kilns. I soon reached the village of Llansantffraed. This time, the equally attractive stone church with slate wall hangings had been built with a tower. After some refreshment, I walked through the village of whitewashed stone cottages and into the neighboring twin village of Llanon (2.5 miles - 1115).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yzg-ja9du5o/U1Ygw5uatRI/AAAAAAAALwE/-zlEFjIjhFo/s1600/P1040043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yzg-ja9du5o/U1Ygw5uatRI/AAAAAAAALwE/-zlEFjIjhFo/s1600/P1040043.JPG" height="320" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Llanon, situated on the main road was noisier than and not so tidy as its neighbour. Outside the village, there was a development of new houses. To the credit of the developers, they were built in the local style with rendered walls painted in a variety of attractive colours. The prices looked reasonable too!<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l8NHm-pZM6g/U1Yg1M5g6JI/AAAAAAAALw0/r6DDqvTxKB8/s1600/P1040048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-l8NHm-pZM6g/U1Yg1M5g6JI/AAAAAAAALw0/r6DDqvTxKB8/s1600/P1040048.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Onwards along another lane to the seafront and the uninspiring Hotel Plas Morfa. The path continued along low earth cliffs an over the occasional streams with stepping stones. Ahead, the path rose over higher cliffs, but there was always the comforting view of Aberaeron ahead of me and New Quay in the distance.<br />
<br />
A pleasant undulating walk and I was descending into the village of Aberarth (6 miles 1231). The village had sparkling streams and multi-coloured cottage - a very pleasant place to live.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf_M4t1kAGd3oSWdeJ5kwYrryZrX04RFwyKY94nrhJWX2StRJgQJT2Mx8Bcb6WOLXCgBkmTt54gG8gkbYhhlj0-qocqF3LtxAYStZ28_gE9f-8KVut0FTURDYC6GWQUw2Btu5o5KSfL-Z/s1600/P1040059.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOf_M4t1kAGd3oSWdeJ5kwYrryZrX04RFwyKY94nrhJWX2StRJgQJT2Mx8Bcb6WOLXCgBkmTt54gG8gkbYhhlj0-qocqF3LtxAYStZ28_gE9f-8KVut0FTURDYC6GWQUw2Btu5o5KSfL-Z/s1600/P1040059.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Moving forward, the coast path remained level and I soon reached the caravan site that marked the beginning of Aberaeron, my destination. (8miles - 1317). I spent some time rediscovering this town since my last visit in 2010. Aberaeron is famous for its harbour and multi-coloured houses.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mwj065QbXMk/U1YhKryGSZI/AAAAAAAALzE/n9hnq0EODBI/s1600/P1040067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Mwj065QbXMk/U1YhKryGSZI/AAAAAAAALzE/n9hnq0EODBI/s1600/P1040067.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
All too soon it was time to catch Richards X50 bus to Aberystwyth, a meal at the station (Wetherspoons) and the 1730 train back to Birmingham. All in all, an excellent day out.Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-8972729713160003042015-01-03T10:58:00.003-08:002015-01-03T10:58:46.912-08:00Ramsgate to Margate on foot - 2 February 2013My original plan for the day was a walk over the White Cliffs from Dover to Deal. However, the forecast of very strong winds for the day would have meant a far less than agreeable walk, to say nothing of safety. I modified my plan to walk a stretch of the coastline I had already covered on the venerable bike.<br />
<br />
Leaving Coventry at 6:51, the train was early (7:50) into Euston. A brisk walk over to St Pancras and I was on board the 8:14, arriving at Dover by 9:20. (Not bad for less than £8). My change of plan meant a short wait in Dover before my train arrived to take me to Ramsgate, where I duly arrived at 1040.<br />
<br />
Ramsgate Station is about a mile away from the seafront which made for dreary walking past row upon row of dreary terraced housing. At some time in the past these houses would nave looked alike, making for a harmonious whole, but in the interest of individuality, cheap renovations and extensions have made the place look a mess. As I approached the seafront, things looked up and I came across more attractive level of architecture.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7WrK2ksElyHRVCjlr_otvfKpog94CmlFAzhHPCt1tX5PLTBawviKL_8-dtsIZIM69MeD-T_HfMHg_Zru137nyBmH7Cu-6mQTEmeht_Q3QnR7JZKsBIyY6Pqk-xU-BjssMo9qGx28Igv3/s1600/P1030064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq7WrK2ksElyHRVCjlr_otvfKpog94CmlFAzhHPCt1tX5PLTBawviKL_8-dtsIZIM69MeD-T_HfMHg_Zru137nyBmH7Cu-6mQTEmeht_Q3QnR7JZKsBIyY6Pqk-xU-BjssMo9qGx28Igv3/s1600/P1030064.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
On reaching the seafront, there were a number of large and attractive hotels and a delightful square of coastguard cottages. The view over the beach and towards the harbour to my right were excellent. On the downside, the strong wing made its presence felt in comparison to the sheltered narrow streets.<br />
<br />
Onward then along the promenade and through Winterstoke Gardens, (A broad swathe of grass with a mock Grecian pavillion and into King George VI Memorial Park (An even broader swathe of grass with trees).<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d_u6QCH_UkQ/UizB9XuDlfI/AAAAAAAALkw/bWZ3vqHNdFM/s1600/P1030067.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-d_u6QCH_UkQ/UizB9XuDlfI/AAAAAAAALkw/bWZ3vqHNdFM/s1600/P1030067.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Dumpton arrived with some interesting architecture and the English terminal of the cross Channel telephone link. The building looks diminutive and old, but I am informed that it remains in service as a fibre optic connection with Belgium.<br />
<br />
Broadstairs is a splendid unspoiled place with many ancient buildings blending in well with the Victorian. It has an air of calm superiority about it and is a place I intend to return to when I have completed the coastal journey.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwqwtxWvlIYzE8Vo5J33ZI57Sth-9Fcfm6PN5Bun9-AtlizcxDAx9uLW5cPH5jjmVfn4ifzdI1LwXGJx8ZRaV1EmZt7zVEMYUCbWT5ng85w1C634YdZdW0yIHT43DYNoJe4W2OP-4cc6G/s1600/P1030076.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwqwtxWvlIYzE8Vo5J33ZI57Sth-9Fcfm6PN5Bun9-AtlizcxDAx9uLW5cPH5jjmVfn4ifzdI1LwXGJx8ZRaV1EmZt7zVEMYUCbWT5ng85w1C634YdZdW0yIHT43DYNoJe4W2OP-4cc6G/s1600/P1030076.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Walking out of Broadstairs along the the beach, I passed a yellow door in front of a cave in the cliff. The sign on the door read "Bay Inspector's Office" and the company "Thanet Leisure Force". My only thought was "To Hell with the standard of office accommodation, I appear to have missed my vocation somewhere along the line!"<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cbj51LHzO9yEX7SbQnHUIef8_9jRmse24rL9-5ievEfzSELUK2EVumyENFeTiroVbfEGOjiCXN_qhLxZTpLsHTP3xC886-UvafI2_rzdMC_84ulH5vcecv82R-qbnGpFPIZITlBEVsK-/s1600/P1030083.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6cbj51LHzO9yEX7SbQnHUIef8_9jRmse24rL9-5ievEfzSELUK2EVumyENFeTiroVbfEGOjiCXN_qhLxZTpLsHTP3xC886-UvafI2_rzdMC_84ulH5vcecv82R-qbnGpFPIZITlBEVsK-/s1600/P1030083.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
I climbed the steps up the cliff to the road and a little further on entered the North Foreland Private Estate. Despite the OS map showing the route of the footpath along the busy road, it is more pleasant to walk through the estate past large and expensive houses and there are no indications to the contrary. <br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gt9S37WbX7Q/UizCN-q6gHI/AAAAAAAALnA/e8hEDJESmYs/s1600/P1030085.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gt9S37WbX7Q/UizCN-q6gHI/AAAAAAAALnA/e8hEDJESmYs/s1600/P1030085.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Emerging from the Estate, I rejoined the cliff top path and walked past the impressive looking Kingsgate Castle, now converted into apartments. Turning east by the small fort at White Ness, I was greeted by a windy blast which slowed my progress for the remainder of the journey.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U5kp_qtBp1g/UizCQy6i_BI/AAAAAAAALnY/NRBNCeqFSpo/s1600/P1030088.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-U5kp_qtBp1g/UizCQy6i_BI/AAAAAAAALnY/NRBNCeqFSpo/s1600/P1030088.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
The grassy strip between Cliftonville and the sea would have been a pleasant walk on almost any other day, but I pushed on through the wind into Margate, a town which has clearly seen better days. Many of the buildings appeared to be in poor condition and seemingly little progress was in evidence to restore this resort to its former glory. Wandering around the town, I was impressed by the railway station and little else.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62w32UoYGkvYHFN6iUP2KezC8JahbAhxeb-CUQuAs-4YIbCJR1p8I0VpVCLlv-dSV1OGy4Po4LJy-vB83zG1nL9Du8CwCU3CqTdnddvZEXR0ysDR1QRwEKmRy6EvtLgbbh-CLPBux5CTz/s1600/P1030094.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg62w32UoYGkvYHFN6iUP2KezC8JahbAhxeb-CUQuAs-4YIbCJR1p8I0VpVCLlv-dSV1OGy4Po4LJy-vB83zG1nL9Du8CwCU3CqTdnddvZEXR0ysDR1QRwEKmRy6EvtLgbbh-CLPBux5CTz/s1600/P1030094.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
A meal and a pint at Wetherspoons was followed by a bus journey back to Ramsgate and the train home.Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-52316265535805273642013-04-19T11:38:00.002-07:002013-04-19T11:38:40.618-07:00Battlesbridge to Burnham on Crouch - 17 November 2012 - 14 miles by bike<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/105089446648821576376/albums/5868625463085641665?banner=pwa" target="_blank">Photographs</a></span><br />
<br />
This part of my journey around the coast has annoyed for some time. My ideal route would have been to take the Lady Essex Ferry between Burnham on Crouch and Wallasea. Although it is clearly marked on the OS map, it is never running when I have made inquiries in the past. After some deliberation, I decided to close this gap in my itinerary by cycling the 14 miles from Battlesbridge to Burnham on Crouch.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2fA21MqpXnUMDBVDyT62U94cUnIwkmp3pS1rsoCl9wU_L0UvPM_EbKVQQf_tEVK1cLikew-cnWFmIU0Rq0Nuirh81zp48-CtWSQKOH-jwOoBdjBrJYN5yTXJsa2TZIt2GmJS3uxMe6z2/s1600/P1020901.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht2fA21MqpXnUMDBVDyT62U94cUnIwkmp3pS1rsoCl9wU_L0UvPM_EbKVQQf_tEVK1cLikew-cnWFmIU0Rq0Nuirh81zp48-CtWSQKOH-jwOoBdjBrJYN5yTXJsa2TZIt2GmJS3uxMe6z2/s320/P1020901.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Battlesbridge Station</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
An 6 am start on the Virgin Voyager out of Birmingham International brought me to Euston at 7:16 and, after a short journey on the Circle Line, I was seated on my train at Liverpool Street in good time for its departure at 8:02. Changing at Wickford, I was ready to leave Monsieur Bataille's bridge at 9:10.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1JzzSx47LHXiXD9ujmt1aRsT-NeSC4Jr0woZ4V9ntipjybWd2XXcGOTgx59ZoOJq9zwjGcqM_Z4pget8cXaQyPFbA1gRQoh-hUg9ANmU_ihIGkeZh7VhmCqa8Ll2G4G0ypIkH7NYvZwg/s1600/P1020902.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr1JzzSx47LHXiXD9ujmt1aRsT-NeSC4Jr0woZ4V9ntipjybWd2XXcGOTgx59ZoOJq9zwjGcqM_Z4pget8cXaQyPFbA1gRQoh-hUg9ANmU_ihIGkeZh7VhmCqa8Ll2G4G0ypIkH7NYvZwg/s320/P1020902.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hawk Inn - Battlesbridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The weather was dull and threatening as I cycled past The Hawk Inn and the white clapperboard houses of Battlesbridge. The rolling countryside would have been so much more attractive with a little sun, so I pushed on to South Woodham Ferrers (0935 - 3.3 miles). Possibly an interesting village at some time in the past, South Woodham Ferrers has seen great expansion to become a town containing a few old buildings, some excellent modern ones and some large, boring housing estates.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eyd74-Awqj4/UXGL00FXicI/AAAAAAAALWI/EN9B7wpT0uo/s1600/P1020905.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-eyd74-Awqj4/UXGL00FXicI/AAAAAAAALWI/EN9B7wpT0uo/s320/P1020905.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">South Woodham Ferrers</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I moved on quickly along the Crouch Valley and, since I had plenty of time, took a detour into North Fambridge (1010 - 6.9 miles). This is an attractive place with many well maintained white clapperboard houses and some larger, more substantial properties. I admired and photographed the Victorian Church, peered at North Fambridge Hall through the fairly dense vegetation and cycled back to the B1012.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5-TdgWyf6nt90LIt2zfGW4_fJJTcVlB-Dv3_8r-1_rQE_ku6sEQQNcxpDVjWbZ-A6Bmm9dHigT2EuSCQbhYbKL5CwSrvdNot-s8no5J2A_a0afImcZWCXiqe8-vIh4UFSQc2hNK3SEv-/s1600/P1020915.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgK5-TdgWyf6nt90LIt2zfGW4_fJJTcVlB-Dv3_8r-1_rQE_ku6sEQQNcxpDVjWbZ-A6Bmm9dHigT2EuSCQbhYbKL5CwSrvdNot-s8no5J2A_a0afImcZWCXiqe8-vIh4UFSQc2hNK3SEv-/s320/P1020915.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">North Fambridge</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Althorne (1055 - 10.1 miles) seems to go on for ever along the B1010, but contains a fine stone built church with a tower and a number of imposing, large houses.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMSQqX-LzkXfF1acniKvabwC4yeyVTqaDAIewy38kvWPlBhHk9EDZryfmXxac31Q_OccCckUr7HEh4KhHLmJgElWCb-JqTbtwDAa8pyALfsGcggWsetZZmtP8HfXTHp8qCDsiAJJV5ui7/s1600/P1020918.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQMSQqX-LzkXfF1acniKvabwC4yeyVTqaDAIewy38kvWPlBhHk9EDZryfmXxac31Q_OccCckUr7HEh4KhHLmJgElWCb-JqTbtwDAa8pyALfsGcggWsetZZmtP8HfXTHp8qCDsiAJJV5ui7/s320/P1020918.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Althorne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
By now, the sky was becoming more and more overcast, so I hurried on to Burnham on Crouch (1130 - 14.3 miles) which I reached as the heavens opened. I quickly made my way to the White Hart on the waterfront where I enjoyed a well earned pint and an excellent plate of steak and mushroom pie.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2AIQsbwtGLs/UXGMEQ6O9_I/AAAAAAAALYg/QJWDrF_gVPM/s1600/P1020924.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-2AIQsbwtGLs/UXGMEQ6O9_I/AAAAAAAALYg/QJWDrF_gVPM/s320/P1020924.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">White Hart - Burnham on Crouch</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Thus refreshed and with the weather improved, I then had the opportunity of exploring the largely unspoiled town with solid Victorian brick buildings interspersed with white clapperboard. My curiosity satisfied, I made my to the railway station and a retrace of the morning's journey, arriving back at Birmingham International by 1813.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/105089446648821576376/albums/5868625463085641665?banner=pwa" target="_blank">Photographs</a></span>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-29631805000144659112012-11-02T12:48:00.001-07:002012-11-02T13:56:04.932-07:00Seaburn to South Shields - 27 October 2012 - 8 Miles on foot<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/SeaburnToSouthShields" target="_blank">Click to see the pictures</a></h3>
<br />
An early rise and a drive through the dark early morning and I was at Tamworth Station in good time to catch the 0646 to Newcastle. The train was quiet and the journey uneventful apart from chatting to some fellow travellers who were headed for a shopping trip in York. I shuddered at their adventure for the day just as much as I am sure they shuddered at mine. The train was punctual into Newcastle and I quickly made my way into the Metro system for the next part of my journey.<br />
<br />
The fare system on the Metro system is the most impenetrable anywhere I have come across, there are no ticket offices, the ticket machines do not give change and it is the hardest thing in the world to buy the correct ticket unless aided by an expert. Fortunately, help was at hand in the form of a station assistant who took pity on me, advised on the best ticket and personally dispensed change as the change machine was broken. On the journey, I discovered the necessity of buying the right ticket when two ticket inspectors boarded my carriage at an intermediate stop and shouted, "tickets ready for inspection". They rapidly progressed through the train until they came across one man who did not have a ticket. He was dragged off at the next stop to await a fate I can only imagine!<br />
<br />
Having walked the dreary mile between the seafront and Seaburn Station on a previous occasion, I decided to give it a miss and caught the bus instead, arriving at Seaburn Lighthouse at 1050.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZaMOGWgof0/UJQTNT8c5vI/AAAAAAAALLk/ZE9vOz5vqVI/s1600/P1020819.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-aZaMOGWgof0/UJQTNT8c5vI/AAAAAAAALLk/ZE9vOz5vqVI/s320/P1020819.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roker Lighthouse from Seaburn</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
On arrival at the seafront, I was greeted with some light hail and a fresh wind that blew from the direction in which I was to travel. The sea was choppy and the sun shone for most of the time, making for some atmospheric pictures. Having donned my warm hat and gloves I set off northwards along the well maintained coast path. The path ran parallel to the road, but a respectful distance apart for almost the whole of the walk. There were a number of other people around, mainly dog walkers and a few other lost souls.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t9NdQBNT1jk/UJQTQFiOOzI/AAAAAAAALL8/YG7VbKBnbD0/s1600/P1020822.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="239" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-t9NdQBNT1jk/UJQTQFiOOzI/AAAAAAAALL8/YG7VbKBnbD0/s320/P1020822.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Lost souls?</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Whitburn (1135 - 1.5 miles) is a post war housing development over which towers what appears to be a working windmill complete with sails. From here the route crosses broad grassy meadows along low cliffs with many stacks and sea arches standing above the shallow water. The way passed some, apparently and hopefully, disused shooting ranges to Souter Lighthouse (1206 - 3.1 miles). Here I took a rare opportunity, on my coast walks, to visit a National Trust property, Souter Lighthouse.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOqfyiOmUBsD1q2QQ_u46NcZQ4cPZSZ-dyDoJbgGGxvn_krYllvIMT8JrbngSEzVEbTvcmY3p8cy9NKUtPVKU0Pe_xFeToa50RwDr5E97RoFa0WTO9SWc5wTibit3DK7Qvhz6YNoQzzQ5c/s1600/P1020842.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOqfyiOmUBsD1q2QQ_u46NcZQ4cPZSZ-dyDoJbgGGxvn_krYllvIMT8JrbngSEzVEbTvcmY3p8cy9NKUtPVKU0Pe_xFeToa50RwDr5E97RoFa0WTO9SWc5wTibit3DK7Qvhz6YNoQzzQ5c/s320/P1020842.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Souter Lighthouse</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Souter Lighthouse has the distinction of being the first in the country to be powered by electricity. Following a general description of the functions of the stand-by generator and the compressors required to power the massive fog horns, I made my way to the simple two up - two down accommodation for a lighthouse keeper and his family. These rooms were furnished with period furniture and contained appropriate nautical touches in the pictures on the walls and clothing displayed in the bedrooms. A short climb up the tower and I was back into the cold for the final part of my walk.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOQsoKycbNqu759WM6Rja6QG3UheEX-R-3yg30iYCNjP1ONQJkeh0lNlVtAQxak_5j_rSRitNE1qy5wSwExL7JNwfyVcQCdDP7p0YPBNqsShW9XGBONhRB2K0HnthOGiCrFGZ-DhY0D1W/s1600/P1020853.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGOQsoKycbNqu759WM6Rja6QG3UheEX-R-3yg30iYCNjP1ONQJkeh0lNlVtAQxak_5j_rSRitNE1qy5wSwExL7JNwfyVcQCdDP7p0YPBNqsShW9XGBONhRB2K0HnthOGiCrFGZ-DhY0D1W/s320/P1020853.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marsden Lime Kilns</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the mid 1800's, a large village was built in the area around the lighthouse to house the workers at the nearby limestone quarry and lime kilns. In the 1960's, all of the building were torn down and all that now remains is a broad stretch of grass and the ruins of the lime kilns. The route now remained close to the road until, at Marsden (1250 - 4.1 miles), the green area broadened out again into "The Leas" and the path meandered along the coast and past the massive Marsden Rock. The rock was, until recently, a large sea arch and it is a mere shadow of its former self. For some reason, Marsden Rock is a favourite spot for people in the area to commit suicide, as evidenced by the enticing adverts from the Samaritans.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cW8kahWHIjg/UJQTuA7FPFI/AAAAAAAALQQ/liktsaqGvBY/s1600/P1020859.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-cW8kahWHIjg/UJQTuA7FPFI/AAAAAAAALQQ/liktsaqGvBY/s320/P1020859.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Marsden Rock</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The path now descended to the sand strewn promenade that led towards the mouth of the Tyne, past the obligatory amusement park doing meagre business with the brave souls who had taken the trouble to brave the elements. Having reached the Tyne (1355 - 7.1 miles), the were a few delights to amuse me - dancing lady sculptures, moored fishing boats and some tasteful waterside apartment developments - before arriving in South Shields (1420 - 8.4 miles) which could be almost anywhere in the UK.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBkfMakGRTIe1x0ukaFIb6QI3PoTx6ngUyto98MfToPtGk5y6oHFPJArHFm91x-n_JvhBII4PwERClv2hpBeJpdjto0uztci2Q6LYekn_v3dybqcsk23CwMl2UNKppd3FgxcCr_OoNc7B/s1600/P1020870.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsBkfMakGRTIe1x0ukaFIb6QI3PoTx6ngUyto98MfToPtGk5y6oHFPJArHFm91x-n_JvhBII4PwERClv2hpBeJpdjto0uztci2Q6LYekn_v3dybqcsk23CwMl2UNKppd3FgxcCr_OoNc7B/s320/P1020870.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Colmans Fish and Chips</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Colmans Restaurant came highly recommended and they did not disappoint. The fish and chips were beautifully cooked and service was both friendly and efficient. I grabbed a coffee in the local Wetherspoons pub (so I could say I had been there!) before catching the Metro back to Newcastle. I tried and failed to talk myself onto an earlier train than the one I was booked on, so took myself to a nearby pub and enjoyed a slow pint before boarding the 1835. Despite delays, I managed to make my connection ay Derby and was home for 2230.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Next trip (and last this year) - 17 November - Battesbridge to Burnham on Crouch - 14 miles by bike</h3>
Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-6108800402325239232012-11-01T11:57:00.000-07:002012-11-01T11:57:38.997-07:00Filey to Bridlington (18 miles) and Bridlington to Hornsea (13 miles) - Summer 2000<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/2000Bridlington" target="_blank">See the pictures</a></h3>
<br />
Yet another retrospective blog as I wait to travel to the North East on 27 October. Again the recollection is a little sketchy, but the route and the main points of interest are still clear in my mind.<br />
<br />
I travelled by train to Filey, changing at York and Seamer. The journey was uneventful except for a rather choppy ride on a Pacer multiple unit between York and Seamer. On arrival at Filey, I spent a few minutes revisiting some of the places I knew as a child when we came here as a family almost every year during the 1940's and early 50's. The most significant of these was the miniature golf course, the scene of my most serious misdemeanour at the tender age of seven. Since I was not deemed old enough to play by may parents. I was given the job of "caddy" which didn't please me one little bit. When the rest of the family had tee'd off, I would hang behind and "modify" the course by pointing the marker arrow to a different hole. This seemed to go fine until we strarted to hear arguments behind us as the modified course had its effect and the family was forced to retreat from the course without finishing the round!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5hLhHgFXzN4/UIRAACd2BWI/AAAAAAAALFY/sTDy_sJ9j_8/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="224" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5hLhHgFXzN4/UIRAACd2BWI/AAAAAAAALFY/sTDy_sJ9j_8/s320/IMG.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crime scene</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Fortunately nobody recognised my from that occasion, so I was soon walking along the sands towards Flamborough Head. On my way, I passed the now ruined remains of the Butlin's Holiday Camp which used to disgorge holidaymakers into the town pedalling garishly painted tricycles. At the end of the beach as the limestone Flamborough Cliffs started there was a flight of steep steps cut into the rock / earth which led to the cliff top path. The steps may or may not still be there - please check first!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeWUkuUbVVsph2-QAgAvbbC-hlwKZuMXhG4bTjYDyLEDJOkC1dMhuzS1EQ_5MQ6R95cXheUkvhvE10DMTzSxacz9QZB1XrnwoJQ-CqQ3Zq6Pmzrwn0YWBIv39n9QjtbimqZ_005o06-Am/s1600/02+Filey.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeeWUkuUbVVsph2-QAgAvbbC-hlwKZuMXhG4bTjYDyLEDJOkC1dMhuzS1EQ_5MQ6R95cXheUkvhvE10DMTzSxacz9QZB1XrnwoJQ-CqQ3Zq6Pmzrwn0YWBIv39n9QjtbimqZ_005o06-Am/s320/02+Filey.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flamborough Head from Filey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
There followed a very enjoyable cliff top walk around the edge of Flamborough Head. At the very high Bempton Cliffs, I could see all kinds of seabirds wheeling around, taking off and landing on their precarious nests. I then passed the ancient Danes Dyke. walked high above the tiny harbour at North Landing and arrived at the lighthouse and radio installations at Flamborough head itself.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxf83wDDd3vymqjjrog67rB_fWGr2wSIQwZrFZ0naxBsI1vxpeTo8tMcYZpEyf1C4m3qPeybQR_EjPM_cWr2DWXIUj45LaubnYzeKm7FQv4q9jTRl0JZ0AxkSPAEAFWNnIZDQlYLxzRjCJ/s1600/03+Bempton+Cliff.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxf83wDDd3vymqjjrog67rB_fWGr2wSIQwZrFZ0naxBsI1vxpeTo8tMcYZpEyf1C4m3qPeybQR_EjPM_cWr2DWXIUj45LaubnYzeKm7FQv4q9jTRl0JZ0AxkSPAEAFWNnIZDQlYLxzRjCJ/s320/03+Bempton+Cliff.jpg" width="220" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bempton Cliffs</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The walk took me around the cliff past South Landing and the other end of Danes Dyke. Finally, there was a gentle descent past Sewerby Hall and into Bridlington. I made my way to my B&B for the night and turned in after a supper of fish and chips eaten by the harbourside.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mk_xunIeL50/UJLDopA3wlI/AAAAAAAALHU/swCaKB64ofs/s1600/06+Bridlington.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="205" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Mk_xunIeL50/UJLDopA3wlI/AAAAAAAALHU/swCaKB64ofs/s320/06+Bridlington.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bridlington Harbour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The next day, I set off along the sands early after breakfast, passing a small group of beach campers. The whole of this part of the trip was along the sands, except for the occasional excursion to overcome the monotony of seeing low, almost unbroken earth cliffs to my right, with the calm sea to my left. I passed Ulrome, the scene of many holidays in the 1940's the caravan site where we stayed seemed much smaller than before, due to cliff erosion.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-EOWQAQZ_PPxeh1DRvBKg6_BjjeEj4uE2pGw3Tqi1wXgBWnrYgYzJ_XPnPPGZ5xdVz1fHnFjveq4dfdRzmvURROeebBcDFrNli940gJ57ORSyHgOUl9bFPU86JlI1QbfHc6eEhjjyqtA/s1600/09+Ulrome.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="203" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEge-EOWQAQZ_PPxeh1DRvBKg6_BjjeEj4uE2pGw3Tqi1wXgBWnrYgYzJ_XPnPPGZ5xdVz1fHnFjveq4dfdRzmvURROeebBcDFrNli940gJ57ORSyHgOUl9bFPU86JlI1QbfHc6eEhjjyqtA/s320/09+Ulrome.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ulrome</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Eventually, after a long beach walk, I arrived at Hornsea and caught a bus back to Bridlington, followed by the train home.Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-18492795607612912302012-10-15T03:33:00.000-07:002012-10-15T04:15:57.633-07:00Folkestone to Dover - 29 September 2012 - 8 Miles on footI had previously cycled between Folkestone and Dover in 2009 but felt I could gain more by repeating the the journey on foot by tracing the Saxon Shore Way which ran close to the cliff edge offering views of the sea and the prospect of visiting defensive sites from WW2. Virgin Trains were offering return tickets for £16 so I needed no more persuasion to embark on this, my latest adventure.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivYNJuiP264J2orKs7TYs87enzYzkKtSsmqpq1CmQlS_VqvsbG4P2lk2T_TNSkYUkQsDV9AHR5J2yva8ybva5oktW_OZRiGdH2Nvr8MVzToh4n3h1Zlvw7BMoTSd__MJFq96DFl_FHIDfH/s1600/P1020672.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivYNJuiP264J2orKs7TYs87enzYzkKtSsmqpq1CmQlS_VqvsbG4P2lk2T_TNSkYUkQsDV9AHR5J2yva8ybva5oktW_OZRiGdH2Nvr8MVzToh4n3h1Zlvw7BMoTSd__MJFq96DFl_FHIDfH/s320/P1020672.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Leas</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
The journey to Folkestone was swift and efficient. I left Birmingham International at 6:40 in the morning, dashed from Euston to St Pancras and caught the high speed "Javelin" train, arriving in Folkestone at 9:15. From the station, I made straight for the broad stretch of green at the top of the cliff known as "The Leas". It was cool, but the sun was shining, as it did throughout my walk.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimArrVRJbChcR9ib54f_ibXgrT9q7jCcLGU73uhuiDuMh_JChA0u0IShRpb-StjNGz5qUx_anG9ZbAqNY6h1FYVmIdGS1r99W7LgcAdOfS65sjx173cph-KQ-5W9gWzxE0OA5YwQ0EXS2/s1600/P1020678.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgimArrVRJbChcR9ib54f_ibXgrT9q7jCcLGU73uhuiDuMh_JChA0u0IShRpb-StjNGz5qUx_anG9ZbAqNY6h1FYVmIdGS1r99W7LgcAdOfS65sjx173cph-KQ-5W9gWzxE0OA5YwQ0EXS2/s320/P1020678.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Railway arch to the harbour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
A short meander around the old streets of the upper town, listening to the sound of the bells of St Mary and St Eanswythe and I passed under the low railway bridge that once served the boat-train service, now long gone. I passed under the bridge to the Quay (0945 - 1 mile), lined with attractive buildings but not at all commercialised. The only concession to the tourists was a seafood stall. The large harbour itself was empty except for a few leisure craft riding at anchor.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E36NaJNvIZM/UG8mWMu-b4I/AAAAAAAAK8o/uGCr0_LYKnY/s1600/P1020684.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-E36NaJNvIZM/UG8mWMu-b4I/AAAAAAAAK8o/uGCr0_LYKnY/s320/P1020684.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Copt Point</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Moving along the Quay, the headland of Copt Point came into view which was the target of the next part of the walk - or rather the Martello tower that stands above the point. A pleasant walk along the sunny promenade, up a few flights of steps, a walk along a green expanse and I reached the aforesaid tower, white painted with some signs of graffiti. Near the tower was a sign informing me that I was standing on the remains of a Roman villa, much of which has now been lost to the sea.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXQWN5P1wemE-BtJVSOiQ0T9q00TfAQuoTgfcrKv90SY9BndPSLf-B2-F8t-lIrEyr8yypZ0bgk2ZTsaZxjM34i5e863INg5LhlJP2Fzrqy6TQy0UNCM7-dmc6w00jnaNPL-IkAyJJEup/s1600/P1020690.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiyXQWN5P1wemE-BtJVSOiQ0T9q00TfAQuoTgfcrKv90SY9BndPSLf-B2-F8t-lIrEyr8yypZ0bgk2ZTsaZxjM34i5e863INg5LhlJP2Fzrqy6TQy0UNCM7-dmc6w00jnaNPL-IkAyJJEup/s320/P1020690.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Villa below!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
As I climbed, I gained extensive views of both Folkestone to the west and the coastline towards Abbot's Cliff on my intended route. At the top of Dover Hill, a footpath diversion took me away from the edge of the cliff and along the Old Dover Road until I came to the Battle of Britain Memorial at Capel le Ferne (1050 - 3 miles). I took a few minutes to admire and photograph the Spitfire and Hurricane aircraft and the memorial itself, before moving on along the cliff top path.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQ6SqDxTst8Hy-4_Dhszoio1Cbp2HfMt4Rl5W84VYSA9wx7NzHwgzrh_4MH8CflwuLp3xTiz48aSSrYSApr5OO1OKOMU3urWxWKwI44WjUCrtPKmNyNiu-Y15ORM0TUsgssn-_Smzp7D-/s1600/P1020692.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVQ6SqDxTst8Hy-4_Dhszoio1Cbp2HfMt4Rl5W84VYSA9wx7NzHwgzrh_4MH8CflwuLp3xTiz48aSSrYSApr5OO1OKOMU3urWxWKwI44WjUCrtPKmNyNiu-Y15ORM0TUsgssn-_Smzp7D-/s320/P1020692.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hurricane at Capel Ferne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After a few yards, a steep downward slope followed by an equally steep climb took me past some houses and back onto the "Old Dover Road" - a quieter section, this time. The road soon gave way to hill top path again and I climbed my way up to the top of Abbots Cliff (1130 - 4.4 Miles). Here the remains of World War 2 were much in evidence - gun emplacements, an acoustic mirror, a shooting range and various other emplacements.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii4B5-FvGNzHVid979bwPRFAM4Q9G4o-KrfmIhow0NXwakxZncRKwgtTQOMzZq_XY-7MIoiqy4KHeUb4UlAgYaECZ6ZZdDSf2GCJOdlCifB9EAhXhgyM489J2AutblbagZTmWnga4t0Itj/s1600/P1020704.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii4B5-FvGNzHVid979bwPRFAM4Q9G4o-KrfmIhow0NXwakxZncRKwgtTQOMzZq_XY-7MIoiqy4KHeUb4UlAgYaECZ6ZZdDSf2GCJOdlCifB9EAhXhgyM489J2AutblbagZTmWnga4t0Itj/s320/P1020704.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Acoustic Mirror</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
A feature of this walk was the presence of a number of natural "tunnels" over the path formed from gorse and forms of undergowths. They were dome shaped and blocked out much of the light as one progressed through them. Below me now was the expanse of Samphire Hoe which appeared to be an unhappy compromise between a nature reserve and a BMX track. It was constructed from the rock dug from the Channel Tunnel - I suppose they had to put the stuff somewhere!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMv3AwfoApKo-lAO79Gfe2M27V4uQ89ozGIlJYXCJZq-0wR9AQwu_Pm4MW50O2GrQwH9NtATu4GVKdzZG3kTN5ITZhFRZ1GC4W5Kc0tkAdUlZdKUJObQytikJY5Rm_QuzZswfPPfsm9zCM/s1600/P1020710.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMv3AwfoApKo-lAO79Gfe2M27V4uQ89ozGIlJYXCJZq-0wR9AQwu_Pm4MW50O2GrQwH9NtATu4GVKdzZG3kTN5ITZhFRZ1GC4W5Kc0tkAdUlZdKUJObQytikJY5Rm_QuzZswfPPfsm9zCM/s320/P1020710.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Samphire Hoe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I was now climbing Shakespeare Cliff and gaining better and better views of both Dover and France as I neared the top (1230 - 6.4 miles). I could see the coast of France in the distance, slightly blurred by haze and ahead of me, the Channel ferries were busily moving in and out of the harbour. The descent from Shakespeare Cliff was a little slippery and I had to assemble my walking pole for this part. The originally planned route was to walk into Dover across the A20 and by Drop Redoubt Fort, but I was surprised to see a path unmarked on the map leading more directly towards Dover Harbour.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5vqg7kX6w08/UG8nGaiwr0I/AAAAAAAALBI/OdtnVFOatOI/s1600/P1020720.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-5vqg7kX6w08/UG8nGaiwr0I/AAAAAAAALBI/OdtnVFOatOI/s320/P1020720.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Grand Shaft</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Despite missing one fort, I did pass another (Archcliffe Fort) and The Grand Shaft designed to expedite the movement of soldiers to the harbour during the Napoleonic Wars, should they be needed. Almost in no time, I found myself at journeys end at the waterfront (1315 - 8.2 Miles). I had time to rest and photograph the harbour before walking into the town.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPq_UAfx0pexMlsicDL6ByXXyHYEhQjqN81qf_NEBXy2HhXfexbWM7DqAlvD-3mdVBul53gdof1kUw3vdXjBDFxmDIvTONROaR6i8qNuDG2wUiQMExn9A6hG-efmO-3VC7Sau4oCwmbe9/s1600/P1020724.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivPq_UAfx0pexMlsicDL6ByXXyHYEhQjqN81qf_NEBXy2HhXfexbWM7DqAlvD-3mdVBul53gdof1kUw3vdXjBDFxmDIvTONROaR6i8qNuDG2wUiQMExn9A6hG-efmO-3VC7Sau4oCwmbe9/s320/P1020724.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Dover Harbour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It quickly became obvious, as I explored the town, that Charles Dickens had stayed in Dover and that scenes from David Copperfield and Bleak House were set in the town. Finally, a meal and a pint at the Eight Bells fortified me for the journey home and I boarded the 1544 train at Dover, arriving home soon after seven. All in all, an excellent day out for £25!<br />
<br />
<h3>
<span style="font-weight: normal;">Next Trip</span><span style="font-weight: normal;">Saturday 27 October - Seaburn to South Shields</span></h3>
Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-35426673191614664852012-08-29T12:05:00.001-07:002012-08-29T12:05:30.535-07:00Askam in Furness to Barrow in Furness - 5 Miles- 25 August 2012<h3>
<br /></h3>
<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/AskamToBarrow" target="_blank">Photograph Album</a></h3>
This outing was a case of completing unfinished business. On my previous walk in this area in May, I was beaten by the clock and did not feel I could comfortably make the end of my intended route. On an earlier 20 mile walk from Lancaster to Knott End in August 2004, I arrived at the ferry terminal too late to complete the return crossing and catch the bus back to Lancaster. By achieving both objectives, I would complete the Cumbria / Lancashire / Cheshire section of my journey.<br />
<br />
My journey North was exactly the same as my trips to this area in April and May of this year. If you want to know the details, then you will have to read these blogs! The journey was punctual and I alighted at Askam at 1021. The weather was dull and overcast with a very slight drizzle and was to remain that way for the whole of the day except the occasional heavier outburst of precipitation. The temperature, a little below 20C was ideal for walking.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8-qf7TJTmqs/UD0U4HvMS5I/AAAAAAAAK3Y/j_FmY8Ig-CI/s1600/DSCF5204.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8-qf7TJTmqs/UD0U4HvMS5I/AAAAAAAAK3Y/j_FmY8Ig-CI/s320/DSCF5204.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Askam</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Askam appeared dismal and run-down except for the occasional substantial stone built house as I walked along the main street from the station. Turning right along a road of terraced houses leading to the beach, the original houses had been turned into a motley collection of pebble dashed frontages, each with a different texture of finish and each at a different level of decay. The road was in poor condition and was in dire need of resurfacing.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAFlm3NcS_c_VuhqbJ9xHN7xnKfNgBJ1QUnG0lvVEOsmHcZtkBsmDGJAvPY2uHi0gmbIq9fm6b4WWfFPuHWgj4_3Eu6X1fpIqqMM0irEQsYA_pmYDywjhyphenhyphen50HFwE-E5uSQ8IVRlN-PAAQ/s1600/DSCF5208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVAFlm3NcS_c_VuhqbJ9xHN7xnKfNgBJ1QUnG0lvVEOsmHcZtkBsmDGJAvPY2uHi0gmbIq9fm6b4WWfFPuHWgj4_3Eu6X1fpIqqMM0irEQsYA_pmYDywjhyphenhyphen50HFwE-E5uSQ8IVRlN-PAAQ/s320/DSCF5208.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Reaching the beach at Duddon Sands, things began to look up. There were atmospheric views across the sands towards the hills beyond Millom and two barges were lying beached in the sands and appeared to be lived in as each could be accessed by a ladder.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR0D1bq4rJlj6jiB94xlp0zCLt_TCmKweiSzTrLQVoffi9RxL_8JMaL5-NBFae8PbQ88H2iSRj-9bid5hyphenhyphenWFpPwhpqCn3MZclOgSujQ2m5o1iVIrqA9D9BNzoiCpC55bXlcr4_ubKhQw0/s1600/DSCF5211.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcR0D1bq4rJlj6jiB94xlp0zCLt_TCmKweiSzTrLQVoffi9RxL_8JMaL5-NBFae8PbQ88H2iSRj-9bid5hyphenhyphenWFpPwhpqCn3MZclOgSujQ2m5o1iVIrqA9D9BNzoiCpC55bXlcr4_ubKhQw0/s320/DSCF5211.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Roanhead Crag</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I passed under the old railway bridge that once served Askam Pier and was immediately onto a broad expanse of firm sand that made for easy walking past Roan Crag and beyond. Inland there were spoil tips from previous industrial activity, but these were gradually being taken over by nature. The ironstone that comprised much of Roan Crag indicated the nature of the industry. Until the 1930's, Askam was an important iron making centre.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdeEOxd5mNYrMr9EGWt-RCWDqtxF0DZUsjSA_8BJsvb_-RG4YQ4mp_LgiDuksahoDtxhPrk6EDXvT9BNLhBNkVqvWwf3T3O-gNAqr0v-wqEyGEvJZyEgvfJouuzlNR74EFVz26XEaG-yno/s1600/DSCF5214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdeEOxd5mNYrMr9EGWt-RCWDqtxF0DZUsjSA_8BJsvb_-RG4YQ4mp_LgiDuksahoDtxhPrk6EDXvT9BNLhBNkVqvWwf3T3O-gNAqr0v-wqEyGEvJZyEgvfJouuzlNR74EFVz26XEaG-yno/s320/DSCF5214.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near Sandscale Farm</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My way left the beach and I crossed low sand dunes to the narrow lane near Roanhead Farm (1100 - 1.7 miles). This attractive leafy lane still bore evidence of an industrial past with mounds of grass covered spoil and lakes where the ore had been extracted. Onwards down the lane, I had to negotiate a flock of escaped sheep, before arriving at Oak Lea Farm where I encountered a stone house with dutch style gables.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7-tfoNrCK6PJCTOPlUR9Tyj1-m8vj05ruSDHrcmmcz9KWfUznQ05iCv9RCAys_8wKU-Tlhv-6mRdaRluevAlULB-zqXBhoI12VVHkWJ1xhfHSGpXa1P0RMPmthxJ0VuYjeTBjbhgqftN/s1600/DSCF5218.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgl7-tfoNrCK6PJCTOPlUR9Tyj1-m8vj05ruSDHrcmmcz9KWfUznQ05iCv9RCAys_8wKU-Tlhv-6mRdaRluevAlULB-zqXBhoI12VVHkWJ1xhfHSGpXa1P0RMPmthxJ0VuYjeTBjbhgqftN/s320/DSCF5218.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">House at Mill Wood</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After Bouth Wood (1140 - 3 miles), the next part of the walk ran alongside a fairly busy road, but a footpath well separated from the road had been provided and there were excellent views of the surrounding countryside including the large, now disused quarry at Hagg Hills. Another lane led me away from the busy road and past the beautiful residential conversion of Breast Mill to the Abbey House Hotel on the outskirts of Barrow. It was here that my wife and I attended a friend's wedding a few years earlier.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgam-ex_wWa8Dot5QRA0Uo8Yj2WD-FOjYvSSaYWCSQRlsJFnMyb-YKmTAyxB225ZH8MRvWvOQIGlvW5g888w8KyVb-1Dd1GMs86lQn4y-2BGyqDvYWZ9dicxV-LIgZ3GWru-afoj60KeH6P/s1600/DSCF5221.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgam-ex_wWa8Dot5QRA0Uo8Yj2WD-FOjYvSSaYWCSQRlsJFnMyb-YKmTAyxB225ZH8MRvWvOQIGlvW5g888w8KyVb-1Dd1GMs86lQn4y-2BGyqDvYWZ9dicxV-LIgZ3GWru-afoj60KeH6P/s320/DSCF5221.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Abbey House Hotel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I passed but did not see Furness Abbey to my left. Since I had visited the Abbey on my trip from Ulverston to Barrow in 2008 and the rain was now intensifying, I continued until the two routes joined up and took the luxury of catching a bus to Barrow Station. Here, I ate the remains of my sandwiches before catching the 1325 train, arriving at Lancaster at 1418. A short walk to me to Common Garden Street where I waited and waited and waited for the 89 bus. It eventually arrived a quarter of an hour late and took me along the lanes through the villages of Glasson, Cockerham and Pilling to the ferry landing at Knott End on Sea. I had used this bus service during my trip during 2004 and rated that experience as more scary than any Blackpool Pleasure Beach ride. On this occasion, the ride was much smoother albeit rather rapid.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAEiX-bM5aCDVKghC7iGn1RYpv5tGugUT6rumqVdAV0zXojaAPUDYAGZW7aQNJ3_dm830JyVS6OtUIFQUxmpHXOcruvw8g37IIgfK86KM57aCa8I2SnPHLZgRJDqZBa8sFlw0Z3mQ96a-/s1600/DSCF5224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSAEiX-bM5aCDVKghC7iGn1RYpv5tGugUT6rumqVdAV0zXojaAPUDYAGZW7aQNJ3_dm830JyVS6OtUIFQUxmpHXOcruvw8g37IIgfK86KM57aCa8I2SnPHLZgRJDqZBa8sFlw0Z3mQ96a-/s320/DSCF5224.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Knott End to Fleetwood Ferry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After a short wait at the end of the pier in the bracing breeze, the ferry moved away from the opposite side of the river. It appeared to be travelling sideways towards me, indicative of the strong current that was flowing down the River Wyre to the sea. Once onboard, I was disappointed to find that there was no outside passenger accommodation and all the travellers had to sit on wooden benches around the edge of the cabin staring at each other. There was a strict notice instructing all passengers to remain seated throughout the crossing. I was thinking this was odd and contrary to the practice in Venice where it is customary to stand even on the smallest gondola type ferry when, on entering the opposite habour / landing, the driver threw the craft into a violent 180 degree turn before docking and allowing the shaken passengers to leave the vessel. Thus, I had completed my journey around the Northwest Coast under my own power from Gretna Green to Chester.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ocZ3IuRdebU/UD0VISHoFSI/AAAAAAAAK6g/_SPHhCerm2w/s1600/DSCF5232.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ocZ3IuRdebU/UD0VISHoFSI/AAAAAAAAK6g/_SPHhCerm2w/s320/DSCF5232.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">New Blackpool tram</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At the pier I had to ask the way to the tram stop and the directions I was given took me to the wrong place. Upon correcting this mistake, the heavens opened, but I had already reached my vehicle for the next part of the journey, a gleaming new Tram. Better still, at my tender age, it cost me nothing to ride in this vehicle. On previous visits it cost a lot to ride in a "heritage tram". The journey to North Pier was swift and quiet. On arrival, the drizzle had returned and the gloom was gathering. I took a few pictures and took myself to Wetherspoons for a pint and some fish and chips. The atmosphere was noisy, so I did not dwell there and made my way to Blackpool North Station where I boarded a crowded train to Preston. I then caught the next Birmingham bound train towards the end of what was a satisfying day.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/AskamToBarrow" target="_blank">Photograph Album</a></h3>
<h3>
Next Trip</h3>
<div>
Folkestone to Dover - Saturday 29 Sepember - 9 Miles</div>
<br />Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-4418414528279704862012-08-28T08:02:00.000-07:002012-08-28T08:02:34.421-07:00Wadebridge to Morwenstow - 28-30 July 2012 - 50 Miles<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/WadebridgeToMorwenstowe" target="_blank">Photograph Album</a></h3>
<h3>
Rationale</h3>
I had a long debate with myself about whether I should try to walk this stretch of coast in Cornwall or revert to the bike. In the end, the bike won for three reasons:<br />
<ol>
<li>The distances involved on the Southwest Coast Path meant that I might not complete this part of the coast for several years.... if ever!</li>
<li>Since I like to travel alone, I would be exposed to some lengthy rugged walking and exit from some parts of the path would be difficult, if needed.</li>
<li>Although I would appreciate the sea and cliffs, I would miss many of the lanes and villages.</li>
</ol>
<h3>
Saturday 28 July - Wadebridge to Port Isaac - 13 miles</h3>
<div>
I arrived in Birmingham in good time to catch the 0812 train to Exeter. This was a very pleasant journey since, although the Inter City 125 trains are old, they are still among the quietest and smoothest around. We sped through the countryside, arriving in Exeter on time at 1046. There followed a short wait for the Western Greyhound 510 bus which would take me to Wadebridge.<br />
<br />
I had expected a modern coach that would take me in comfort on this two and a half hour journey. I was disappointed - in the event a small, apparently clapped out bus appeared with the wrong route number displayed. There was no obvious provision for luggage or folding bikes, so I wedged the thing into a gap at the front of the bus and nobody objected. The bus then proceeded to rattle at an alarming speed along what seemed like every Devon lane. The driver seemed barely in control at the helm as we careered ever onwards from Devon into Cornwall. The journey was punctuated by a dispute between one passenger and a group of Germans as to whether a window was to be open or closed. Oddly enough, the Germans wanted it closed - in my experience they generally take every excuse going to obtain fresh air. That window must have opened and closed half a dozen times as we travelled.<br />
<br />
Thankfully, we arrived on time at Wadebridge, so I pressed the bell and bailed out at the first opportunity. I wanted to move on, so took the B3314 under increasingly leaden skies through rolling, lush countryside. After 3 miles, I turned onto a minor road and headed for Rock. It was at this fairly non-descript place of bungalows that the heavens opened, but my recently acquired cycling cape came into its own. Old fashioned perhaps, but extremely effective in keeping myself and luggage dry, except for the feet!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToLxe9zb2pGFudkSF1SaPzC2ic3P_wa2_1DOf8cdSeSh6oBNIsQjl2iPn4ZzjrfevNmpsaZ_VRQ0ebhy16v_sonSoQwNNYQe8LqgXqOFZ43aQxgLNls2SS6KwxZ-4kqoCyCk-xSWPYrRm/s1600/P1020528.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhToLxe9zb2pGFudkSF1SaPzC2ic3P_wa2_1DOf8cdSeSh6oBNIsQjl2iPn4ZzjrfevNmpsaZ_VRQ0ebhy16v_sonSoQwNNYQe8LqgXqOFZ43aQxgLNls2SS6KwxZ-4kqoCyCk-xSWPYrRm/s320/P1020528.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Polzeath</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Thankfully, the rain did not last long and I was soon cycling through Polzeath (1505 - 7 miles). Famous for sand and surfing, the place looked somewhat grubby to me, so I took a couple of pictures and rode on. As I progressed, the inclines became steeper and steeper to such a degree that I found it more comfortable to walk rather than ride up many of the hills. The descents, of course were exhilarating.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kd5dNL0vmow/UB6_HN7_j8I/AAAAAAAAKkQ/nfyAxKLFvBE/s1600/P1020530.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Kd5dNL0vmow/UB6_HN7_j8I/AAAAAAAAKkQ/nfyAxKLFvBE/s320/P1020530.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Port Quin</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Port Quin (1540 - 10.5 miles), by contrast, was lovely - a small rocky inlet with no more than three or four stone houses. It was really a peaceful spot. By now, I was running behind schedule, so I decided to press on to Port Isaac and travel by bus to Bude. The countryside remained lovely and green, but very hilly. I arrived at Port Isaac (1600 - 13 miles) just in time to catch the bus without having the opportunity to look around. That would have to be left until the following day, so we sped along the lanes in the rattling bus to Boscastle, where I had almost an hour to wait before boarding my connection to Bude.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0n3WSYwkXYbyjQhLKjiedgWTWSkH-94ea5diiCDRoCViDNG7e4kJMMp5ve3OfAt6S1X7Gis51jhx2iLMX9SDTh24ivOW9QrxRQYzi-C68WV6CfhyRBeBG0tgkIvqADNq2Obvxw0oqJ-8S/s1600/P1020534.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0n3WSYwkXYbyjQhLKjiedgWTWSkH-94ea5diiCDRoCViDNG7e4kJMMp5ve3OfAt6S1X7Gis51jhx2iLMX9SDTh24ivOW9QrxRQYzi-C68WV6CfhyRBeBG0tgkIvqADNq2Obvxw0oqJ-8S/s320/P1020534.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Boscastle Harbour</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Boscastle is situated in a deep valley and, for such an attractive place, remains unspoiled. Yes there are shops, but they are where they ought to be, in the town. The car parks are out of sight and the path past whitewashed cottages to the harbour remains free of traffic and unsightly commercial enterprises. I spent a very pleasant time wandering around Boscastle before taking the now familiar Western Greyhound boneshaker to Bude.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1vvDC18BV8xppfEGqecvsM2f9SvPOQbHxl461UDErDzw1W4_EBrOBbE58OFmB7VZut5JI85V-ZCxOWDJ-mXHG3o1dWedBaIFuXJqNs0R1q8mX09FX5-QjaQC3K6vGdRr4qS_U9zqXxZQ8/s1600/P1020544.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1vvDC18BV8xppfEGqecvsM2f9SvPOQbHxl461UDErDzw1W4_EBrOBbE58OFmB7VZut5JI85V-ZCxOWDJ-mXHG3o1dWedBaIFuXJqNs0R1q8mX09FX5-QjaQC3K6vGdRr4qS_U9zqXxZQ8/s320/P1020544.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bude</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I quickly found my B&B for the next two nights, the "Sea Jade", which turned out to be an excellent choice and is to be highly recommended for the traveller on a budget. If you want to find out more about this accommodation, you will find it and my review on "Tripadvisor". After an al fresco meal of fish and chips and a gentle stroll around the town, I was ready for bed and slept soundly.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Sunday 29th July - Port Isaac to Bude - 27 miles</h3>
</div>
<div>
I woke refreshed and, after the customary "full English", I spent half an hour exploring Bude. We visited Bude as a family a few years ago and were disappointed as it seemed scruffy and jaded at the time. On this occasion, my impression was very much reversed. The whole place looked freshly cleaned and the canal was resplendent in the morning light.</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ND73wcC5Wa0/UB6_r3-WWsI/AAAAAAAAKow/08FgrOyGolk/s1600/P1020556.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ND73wcC5Wa0/UB6_r3-WWsI/AAAAAAAAKow/08FgrOyGolk/s320/P1020556.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bude</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
By dint of poor planning, I had to make my way back to Port Isaac to continue my journey. The bus arrived promptly at 900 and, despite a significant collection of people at the bus stop, found myself as the only passenger on the now familiar form of transport. The going was slow and we eventually arrived at the destination at 1100.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHA_9lQi_csUefty3RDX3ZOI7Y5ud1xq1DDHZT16cIYk6JAGijRHMDMenJul5OwMA1-sdnjGIjKVZ53ZODkAjb3bNqoXWs5CLRdqZvrSRF2h54GBMg1nnspI_BzbmrzqWXbUIOCkOAxAhn/s1600/P1020560.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHA_9lQi_csUefty3RDX3ZOI7Y5ud1xq1DDHZT16cIYk6JAGijRHMDMenJul5OwMA1-sdnjGIjKVZ53ZODkAjb3bNqoXWs5CLRdqZvrSRF2h54GBMg1nnspI_BzbmrzqWXbUIOCkOAxAhn/s320/P1020560.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Port Isaac</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Despite this, there was plenty of time to explore Port Isaac which is a truly lovely old place. The narrow lane drops steeply between the stone houses to the harbour encircled by cliffs with small beach and ramp for boats. Sure they sold ice creams, sandwiches and postcards, but you need ice cream, sandwiches and postcards on holiday and it all fitted in naturally. I climbed the hill again and bid farewell to Port Isaac at about 1120 having marked it down for a visit sometime in the future.</div>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xn5uBYUo4fDXTFmfiZX-Y8qB836l6XbEjZTXTyh3HtL76dwpNCi6pXd9kYhWPrqjJZv2woCh-Gu8SZXdpQxIVDhBxiF6rbcv297BdSBvxUIi1OvhBJoHFsJhfbvZJqIV4HJM78DtgUuI/s1600/P1020568.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh1xn5uBYUo4fDXTFmfiZX-Y8qB836l6XbEjZTXTyh3HtL76dwpNCi6pXd9kYhWPrqjJZv2woCh-Gu8SZXdpQxIVDhBxiF6rbcv297BdSBvxUIi1OvhBJoHFsJhfbvZJqIV4HJM78DtgUuI/s320/P1020568.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Port Gaverne</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Having climbed out of Port Isaac, there followed a swift descent into Port Gaverne (1130), no more than a collection of a few houses at the end of a rocky inlet, but none the worse for that. Past another rocky inlet and I was into an upward slope that led me for three miles to the B3314. Now the road was relatively level, so I was able to make better progress. Towards Delabole, I parted company with the B road and took the by-way towards Treknow. After a little way (1225 - 5.4 miles) I passed The Poldark Inn, made famous through a television drama series of many years ago. I was expecting the inn to look old and sinister - I was disappointed.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7WJQoyoJaCk/UB7AFq2c20I/AAAAAAAAKp4/z99QbyEKIr8/s1600/P1020573.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-7WJQoyoJaCk/UB7AFq2c20I/AAAAAAAAKp4/z99QbyEKIr8/s320/P1020573.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Towards Tintagel</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
From now on, there were many sharp descents and ascents and I found myself walking as much as cycling. The gradients were particularly severe into and out of Treknow, but I soon arrived at Tregatta (1250 - 7 miles) and the road to Tintagel remained fairly level from now on. I made a detour around to the church which was isolated from the village near the edge of a cliff. This sturdy stone structure which has stood the test of time was the best part of Tintagel. The rest of the place was a real let down. King Arthur must have been a real businessman as he had a bookshop, a cafe and an inn all within a short distance of eachother. His mate, Merlin, wasn't doing too badly either. There were plenty of Celtic influences and the amusement arcade bore a trifling resemblance to a castle although the mock stones more closely resembled breeze blocks.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Fz27zDovnU/UB7ASg1ij_I/AAAAAAAAKrI/-N1lFJSUzFg/s1600/P1020583.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--Fz27zDovnU/UB7ASg1ij_I/AAAAAAAAKrI/-N1lFJSUzFg/s320/P1020583.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">I was not amused!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
After taking a few pictures, I moved onwards and arrived in Boscastle (1400 - 12.8 miles). Having enjoyed Boscastle the previous day, I only paused to take a few pictures from the hill as I entered and moved onwards and up a lengthy hill on the B3263. At Trewannett, I turned left onto a minor passing through the villages of Middle and Higher Beeny which were set in lovely rolling countryside. Soon, the lane gave way to a green road, but I was horrified to see a very deep puddle almost across the width of the way, thanks to the recent rain. Fortunately I was able to get past the water and the remainder of my journey along the lane was fairly dry, but only passable on foot.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FhgfnbO2u_g/UB7AeogtcFI/AAAAAAAAKsE/UaczwMi02yQ/s1600/P1020590.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FhgfnbO2u_g/UB7AeogtcFI/AAAAAAAAKsE/UaczwMi02yQ/s320/P1020590.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Near Newton Farm</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Soon the road inclined downward and I hurtled into Crackington Haven (1530 - 17.8miles). This turned out to be something of a disappointment despite the lovely setting - the car park was full and the day trippers seemed to have nothing to do but shuttle between the shop, the ice cream parlour and the pebbly beach. Prices were extortionate and I was very thirsty - a tiny bottle of water was 75p, so I made it a condition of purchase that they also filled my water bottle from their tap. They were happy enough to comply.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4OvOBW41N9OynGPx7RvHs9gqXS5vcng4mPLpz8ls9pErOGoHIsHsyjTQ8CzyZgIKajWlIYNS-5Gs09z9lZd6CgYz_5eb7ctFITnB97PjPFy7NFEibeOYIsxp0x6drGh_WjjOY91GhBtw/s1600/P1020592.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhr4OvOBW41N9OynGPx7RvHs9gqXS5vcng4mPLpz8ls9pErOGoHIsHsyjTQ8CzyZgIKajWlIYNS-5Gs09z9lZd6CgYz_5eb7ctFITnB97PjPFy7NFEibeOYIsxp0x6drGh_WjjOY91GhBtw/s320/P1020592.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Crackington Haven</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I climbed steeply out of Crackington and joined the coastal lane at Coxford. meadering left, right, up and down through lovely countryside, I eventually dropped very steeply into Millook. This place consisted of only a handful of stone houses at the mouth of a very steep valley with rugged cliffs to both sides. This quiet, inaccessible hamlet was in stark contrast to overcrowded Crackington.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJlGIqvhhg8/UB7Amrai38I/AAAAAAAAKso/VFMIBrALqLU/s1600/P1020595.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ZJlGIqvhhg8/UB7Amrai38I/AAAAAAAAKso/VFMIBrALqLU/s320/P1020595.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Millook</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was hard going pushing the bike up the very steep hill out of Millook - riding was out of the question. High up on Budwill point, I had an extensive view to Bude and beyond to the GCHQ establishment further up the coast. After more ups and downs, I arrived at the holiday village of Widemouth Bay (1650 - 24.2miles). There was nothing of interest here, so I took no photographs and moved on to the Sea Jade B&B at Bude (1720 - 27.1 miles).<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKOHPusxNnLRomS8p5nL8k6Qb5YsSS9V1VlC-6xB5FEnw2wj4M8gzbbDVcOmVJKfzZT1p_CrN_cQ8ag4IaRiK46dA1nnRCmoutYRQj5nTfuO44RMWZCIO9LVx9VC9UeYJCqmfGqZp5enM/s1600/P1020597.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRKOHPusxNnLRomS8p5nL8k6Qb5YsSS9V1VlC-6xB5FEnw2wj4M8gzbbDVcOmVJKfzZT1p_CrN_cQ8ag4IaRiK46dA1nnRCmoutYRQj5nTfuO44RMWZCIO9LVx9VC9UeYJCqmfGqZp5enM/s320/P1020597.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Widemouth Bay, Bude and beyond</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
In the evening, I popped out for an excellent jacket potato at the town before a good nights sleep.<br />
<br />
<h3>
Monday 30th July - Morwenstow to Bude - 6 Miles</h3>
My original intention for this morning was to take a bus to Welcombe Cross, cycle to Welcombe Mouth and travel to Morwenstow over a steep green lane. Folloing my experience the previous day, I decided that the green lane might be impassable following heavy rain, leaving me stranded and unable to return home at the scheduled time. This decision means that I shall have to walk the 3 miles between Welcombe Mouth and Morwenstow at some future time.<br />
<br />
Instead, I took the 0918 Western greyhound bus, arriving in Morwenstow at 0950. Morwenstow is a small isolated village comprising a church, an attracive stone pub and a few houses. The village is set in green grazing coutry and the inclines, in general were much less extreme than experienced on the previous day.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwu5fNSE5dR24AzbooNPVXUkTj-rtDhw6aSvF8Z_uA8pT4H_bfhjYppQmzwtFeE9_XowcmEa5Lksh4lC6MgovgbeyWRbD4YcIKPMI70pxEFSNecPw-vXrRYssapU1oveXgbgYsEX5_CFe/s1600/P1020599.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcwu5fNSE5dR24AzbooNPVXUkTj-rtDhw6aSvF8Z_uA8pT4H_bfhjYppQmzwtFeE9_XowcmEa5Lksh4lC6MgovgbeyWRbD4YcIKPMI70pxEFSNecPw-vXrRYssapU1oveXgbgYsEX5_CFe/s320/P1020599.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bush Inn, Morwenstow</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Setting off, the most obvious features ahead of me were the white dishes at GCHQ, Bude. These provided an alien-like intrusion into the landscape and they are certainly visible for many miles around. The ride progressed steadily until there was a sudden and steep descent into Coombe (1015 - 2.6 miles) and a equally steep climb out of it to the National trust property of Stowe Barton which appeared to house National Trust Offices and was not obviously open to the public. From Coombe, a minor road runs to the quaintly named "Duckpool" on the coast. Curiosity did not get the better of me and I did not venture down the lane.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pS7leK0E3gY/UB7AyDLO9eI/AAAAAAAAKts/soR3Go765hc/s1600/P1020603.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-pS7leK0E3gY/UB7AyDLO9eI/AAAAAAAAKts/soR3Go765hc/s320/P1020603.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">GCHQ from Stowe Barton</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There followed a straightforward ride through Stibb to Poughill (1050 - 5 miles)which boasted thatched cottages, sturdy stone houses and a fine church. Onward through less interesting Flexbury until I reached Bude (1100 - 6.4 miles).<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xORL-Y1VaYb0bwb54nbcIEjaa70ZBZ6qciJ00NsyyH7zTrobwKddvuJqSgkUGCefsg9a6kSSNhUs680gG_IxFgEhpmpv-3gn7tot8aedTyak4xqj9H01pnJK5xfnDzMtmiu03GyoehtN/s1600/P1020606.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8xORL-Y1VaYb0bwb54nbcIEjaa70ZBZ6qciJ00NsyyH7zTrobwKddvuJqSgkUGCefsg9a6kSSNhUs680gG_IxFgEhpmpv-3gn7tot8aedTyak4xqj9H01pnJK5xfnDzMtmiu03GyoehtN/s320/P1020606.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Poughill</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I had time to purchase a supply of sandwiches at Sainsburys before making my way to Bude Strand and the bus to Exeter followed by a train home.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/WadebridgeToMorwenstowe" target="_blank">Photograph Album</a></h3>
<h3>
Next Trips</h3>
</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Askam in Furness to Barrow in Furness and Fleetwood Ferry - Saturday 25 August</div>
<div>
<br /></div>
<div>
Folkestone to Dover - Saturday 29 September</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-53443954987963168552012-08-01T11:14:00.001-07:002012-08-01T11:14:35.820-07:00Felixstowe to Hollesley - 30 June 2012 - 11 miles<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/FelixstoweToHollesley" target="_blank">See the photos</a></h3>
<br />
This walk was originally advertised as "Southwold to Aldeburgh", but the threat of cloudy weather made me change my mind. The four places of interest on the planned walk - Southwold, Walberswick, Dunwich and Aldeburgh all required a sunny day to be seen at their best on what might be my only visit. I therefore decided to tackle the unwalked stretch of the Suffolk coast from the south.<br />
<br />
My journey out was along the well defined route of the 0600 from Birmingham International to Euston, a quick dash along the Circle Line and then the 0800 from Liverpool Street, arriving at Ipswich 10 minutes late by 0917. From there, a short walk into Ipswich and photographs of what appears to be a city with many attractive features. Then I boarded the 77 bus at the bus station in the "Old Cattle Market" which took me to Landguard Fort at Felixstowe by 1040.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztIS3GKdIMGKZ5i8L4xv5v7gfR_N0npYUgzTT2ysAcuPoQDePY7qyzbMGSVbQQQsViLHLCh-1g2omW8mKBb5JHepDiCr_OgAo74a9YqFj4exsIh7Nxf8Adg78uyF9ui_TfURWfKbOWXtA/s1600/P1020201.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgztIS3GKdIMGKZ5i8L4xv5v7gfR_N0npYUgzTT2ysAcuPoQDePY7qyzbMGSVbQQQsViLHLCh-1g2omW8mKBb5JHepDiCr_OgAo74a9YqFj4exsIh7Nxf8Adg78uyF9ui_TfURWfKbOWXtA/s320/P1020201.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ipswich</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Languard Fort was originally built by Henry VIII and is the only existing fort to have seen active service, repulsing a raid by the Dutch in 1667. The construction is massive, but it is set so low in the ground that it is virtually impossible to obtain a decent photograph. Of more interest on that day was a spectacle on the River Orwell between Felixstowe and Harwich. Around 6 to 8 Thames sailing barges were racing in the harbour. They made a magnificent sight with their red sails. Despite the windy weather, they were under what appeared to be full sail and were moving very quickly through the choppy water.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqbukE7FNC7_xKSmx_RGDA-hnBrflR3faBC2T0fBAx5KFtX38vTjeHq0oqIVZeL_QbVeyCLx_83kteEpTdfJi1Xg3HkAUjdIoCL6uvK0xBeZfl-gl-xSM-mqhg6MV9sICZqdq6cEDX718/s1600/P1020208.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzqbukE7FNC7_xKSmx_RGDA-hnBrflR3faBC2T0fBAx5KFtX38vTjeHq0oqIVZeL_QbVeyCLx_83kteEpTdfJi1Xg3HkAUjdIoCL6uvK0xBeZfl-gl-xSM-mqhg6MV9sICZqdq6cEDX718/s320/P1020208.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Thames sailing barge at Felixstowe</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I enjoyed this event as I made my way to Landguard Point and turned back towards Felixstowe, crunching shingle underfoot as I walked. I was beginning to panic a little at this point as I had been unable to telephone my wife to report my safe arrival. I had assumed that there was a temporary fault with the network, but the extreme slowness in restoring normal service began to suggest otherwise. To complicate matters, two phone boxes I passed were out of order and appeared to have been in the same state for quite a long period of time. Eventually the obliging proprietor of the first fish and chip shop I came across allowed me to use his phone for the essential call. If you are ever in Felixstowe please show my gratitude by visiting the establishment!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ADWHGRCnYEw/UAMRO5qsZ9I/AAAAAAAAKdI/PGgtX1Y0bgM/s1600/P1020214.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ADWHGRCnYEw/UAMRO5qsZ9I/AAAAAAAAKdI/PGgtX1Y0bgM/s320/P1020214.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Help is at hand</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
There then followed a gentle stroll along the promenade past the unremarkable pier (1145 - 2.7 miles) and the grand houses which became even more grand as I travelled northwards. At Old Felixstowe, I had to detour inland as work was being carried out on the beach to reinforce the cliff. I soon regained the cliff which then gradually sloped down to Felixstowe ferry at the mouth of the River Deben. As I descended, Bawdsey Manor made a spectacular view in its woodland setting across the river. The Manor was built by Sir William Cuthbert Quilter in 1886, but is most famous for the development of Radar during the Second World War.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5_n2iaAqIIUVe4-zIBJRaYc4j6OTMj4hfdpF2nLMIgzvLG0q08UHPTAOMeW9aVRqmYLyIbGCdG_yES-vUULeEZPDqoxD8no0q_BV8BiBl_sXVMTO9l0jEJWxFcQKMaveXdXHOwriT4UD/s1600/P1020222.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgs5_n2iaAqIIUVe4-zIBJRaYc4j6OTMj4hfdpF2nLMIgzvLG0q08UHPTAOMeW9aVRqmYLyIbGCdG_yES-vUULeEZPDqoxD8no0q_BV8BiBl_sXVMTO9l0jEJWxFcQKMaveXdXHOwriT4UD/s320/P1020222.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bawdsey Manor</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Past a couple of Martello Towers and then a little upstream took me to the Deben Ferry (1255 - 5.8 miles) which was situated near a group of old buildings that would have been picturesque had it not been for the many cars that were parked in front of them. I found the ferry moored to the jetty, so I wasted no time as we were off just as soon as I was on board. The fare was the princely sum of £2 for the crossing and I was the only passenger on that crossing. On reaching the other side, I had to disembark onto the shingle as the North Jetty was out of action for repairs. Despite this, the transition from boat to land was achieved smoothly.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HWVpe26iZM_3qTT6IFRZEhPxp2rCsnw20J0Yu5kKz0OsqF9gIkcNPyfiodNq5wex_OZjIi_bVMqD05i1gH-we4q-LFe4C_6dMLiMB8w5fIlz8UvEvXZEzbuEwk9r-CO4gb5WOcI3G4CE/s1600/P1020224.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2HWVpe26iZM_3qTT6IFRZEhPxp2rCsnw20J0Yu5kKz0OsqF9gIkcNPyfiodNq5wex_OZjIi_bVMqD05i1gH-we4q-LFe4C_6dMLiMB8w5fIlz8UvEvXZEzbuEwk9r-CO4gb5WOcI3G4CE/s320/P1020224.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The Deben Ferry</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
At Bawdsey Quay I found several substantial building that were probably part of the 19th Century Bawdsey Estate - One house in particular appeared to be a lodge to the manor house seen earlier. My original plan was to return to the mouth of the Deben on the north bank and walk around the manor along the coast path by the sea. Since I was feeling a little achy at that time, I took the road to Bawdsey instead. My decision was confirmed as correct when I came across a "Footpath Closed" notice at the point where the two routes met. Meanwhile I walked alongside the grounds of the Manor which were attractive despite a number of MOD building in a state of semi-ruin. When I visited the area about 30 years ago, a number of Bloodhound surface to air missiles were to be seen. All that now remains are the concrete bases where they were sited.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuyF4zMUbWD-ANOUk7IZaFdYNj228hb-BbXtvbMuZyHNzGoaE7EHHnEa2Qf__KDufoiNaAyxKTdSUDYF-b5w1kHmO8vt3uwrzJOsLCMkqUN8JL5-Y7wPn-iTKGgY8fxnvt9f0I-ycvcNfv/s1600/P1020230.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuyF4zMUbWD-ANOUk7IZaFdYNj228hb-BbXtvbMuZyHNzGoaE7EHHnEa2Qf__KDufoiNaAyxKTdSUDYF-b5w1kHmO8vt3uwrzJOsLCMkqUN8JL5-Y7wPn-iTKGgY8fxnvt9f0I-ycvcNfv/s320/P1020230.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Bawdsey</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
I then passed through the village of Bawdsey (1345 - 7.7 miles) which is an attractive sprawl along the B1083. The sturdy church tower is very large relative to the diminutive nave and the blue clad scaffolding indicated that restoration work was in progress. The road then led past arable fields to either side into the village of Alderton (1405 - 8.8 miles). There, I was greeted by a somewhat larger church (without tower), an attractive village sign which has become a common site on my visits to East Anglia and village centre cottages rendered in a delightful range of colours.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jBxuflXi_TE/UAMRqLN6tXI/AAAAAAAAKf4/W3j2uIejzeU/s1600/P1020236.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-jBxuflXi_TE/UAMRqLN6tXI/AAAAAAAAKf4/W3j2uIejzeU/s320/P1020236.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">All you need to know about Alderton<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">Outside Alderton, I came across a WW2 bunker by the roadside, a substantial round affair with a steel door. Moving on, I had a good view of the Shingle Street coastguard houses by the sea. Finally on the way to Hollesley I was passed by two vintage buses which may have been on their way to the Village Fete. I saw no sign of activity on the way to my destination at the Shepherd and Dog in the centre of the village (1505 - 11.2 miles), so I determined that the Fete was taking place further on.. I was very pleased to see a sympathetic new development of new houses close to the pub and took the opporunity to inspect the show house. Thence, I returned for refreshment at The Shepherd and Dog before boarding the bus for Woodbridge.</span></div>
</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivy9XGkCPerrxKRhjhTmFvL-gH3rJ85JjNJCTNftbV-txJ3Ah2wR6fCTCzIieHBCQAJPLJlHlyjTWye21D08Ot02cKffHQiWyuzp3N55OEEIBr8hmDqMGgYvXZMPkMnxli59syW5SAwwir/s1600/P1020248.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivy9XGkCPerrxKRhjhTmFvL-gH3rJ85JjNJCTNftbV-txJ3Ah2wR6fCTCzIieHBCQAJPLJlHlyjTWye21D08Ot02cKffHQiWyuzp3N55OEEIBr8hmDqMGgYvXZMPkMnxli59syW5SAwwir/s320/P1020248.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hollesley</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The bus was small and modern, but disturbingly was adapted to take a significant number of disabled passengers. However, it was free and efficiently carried me and the only other passenger to Woodbridge. There was almost an hour wait for the train to Ipswich, so I took myself around the town admiring some of the ancient buildings and unspoiled shopping streets as I went. It is something of a tourist trap, so I didn't buy any food there, but went back to the station and caught the train which rattled its way back to Ipswich.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpdizgTtkaHsL30fUyS7lPLZHgxHjPQsyQRJi3pVttvTde5aDjs04VwRB_c2OWYc1BfanyfqevBShgkJLvU0pQRdpIEr7HSTHoGbnuJxBLXVLgudI5PEal-0obWoRO7B2Fe8cUGCT4qLc/s1600/P1020258.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFpdizgTtkaHsL30fUyS7lPLZHgxHjPQsyQRJi3pVttvTde5aDjs04VwRB_c2OWYc1BfanyfqevBShgkJLvU0pQRdpIEr7HSTHoGbnuJxBLXVLgudI5PEal-0obWoRO7B2Fe8cUGCT4qLc/s320/P1020258.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Woodbridge.</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I had spare time at Ipswich so went in search of food there, but found only a Subway, so I made my way back to the station munching one of their creations before boarding the train to Liverpool Street Station. On arrival in London, I was delighted to learn that the London Festival was in full swing and one of the highlights was the placement of several pianos in locations around the City available for anyone to play. The one at Liverpool Street was sounding out to classical music played by a young man.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gyj4qcYh6qM/UAMSOMcZ2UI/AAAAAAAAKi4/1kv5Rh71jYE/s1600/P1020260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Gyj4qcYh6qM/UAMSOMcZ2UI/AAAAAAAAKi4/1kv5Rh71jYE/s320/P1020260.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Liverpool Street Piano</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
It was soon time to catch the tube train to Euston and the 2103 train which arrived at Birmingham International at 2233. Thence to the car and home.<br />
<br />
<h3>
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/FelixstoweToHollesley" target="_blank">See the photos</a></h3>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-39078091629068581882012-07-08T09:57:00.000-07:002012-07-08T09:57:03.929-07:00Scarborough to Filey and Cloughton to Scarborough - 2000 - 10 + 3 milesFor reasons that are now lost in the mists of time, I chose to drive up to Scarborough rather than using the train. Also, since I did not record anything of my earlier walks, the timing of my visit is also uncertain. I did not take a camera, so there is no photographic record of the trip. Instead, I have used pictures that were taken many years ago on family holidays. All I know for certain is that it was in the year 2000, probably the Spring as I definitely completed my next walk from Filey to Hornsea in that same year during a couple of hot Summer days.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zqfaRUGW6bA/T_m3_toMqFI/AAAAAAAAKbI/x8BLNWGqenM/s1600/Scarborough.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="314" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zqfaRUGW6bA/T_m3_toMqFI/AAAAAAAAKbI/x8BLNWGqenM/s320/Scarborough.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Peasholm Park Scarborough in 1956</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I drove to Scarborough and stayed at a B&B, the name of which I cannot remember, in West Street which lies confusingly on the south side of the town. Having booked into my room, I walked south along the Cleveland Way which hugged the cliff edge. To my left, the views of the sea, cliff and rock formations were great. On the other (right) hand, I passed seemingly endless miles and miles of caravan sites which littered the unremarkable countryside around Osgodby and Cayton Bay.<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrm-qjl7n7hBaNlopZpGTtlXjASR5nwJMn0XdGgw3lMdgmv59x21-sd2kDuQ1AqAc-ARO3KOnASGhxPfwncx1x59APpIAABby5LZtq5LIpAXpQUTwcyiFFG8-UfHXTF3wbtkOSfKU0F4Bc/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="318" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrm-qjl7n7hBaNlopZpGTtlXjASR5nwJMn0XdGgw3lMdgmv59x21-sd2kDuQ1AqAc-ARO3KOnASGhxPfwncx1x59APpIAABby5LZtq5LIpAXpQUTwcyiFFG8-UfHXTF3wbtkOSfKU0F4Bc/s320/IMG.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Filey Brigg - Summer 1950</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The caravans thinned out as I approached the rocky outcrop of Filey Brigg and the start / end point of the Cleveland Way. At the end of the Brigg, I descended to inspect the rock pools that used to fascinate me for hours whilst on our regular family holiday to Filey when I was a young boy. The tide was out, so I was able to make my way to Filey along the broad sandy beach edged with crumbling brown cliffs, scene of many bathing parties and fishing trips in the past.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqiFH95C_xKTJ7rPoYnUujkmob3FNwl2WMGD4ZfO-i0Q4ifhBg8jX8evOvZg14RR3jJxz2ofTVTBxr_4xBb5fcK3GnY_S9zpz80vxCvQWuliWMOdk9gdJ2XLImv4DpcBg-neCnl7MBFG6U/s1600/Filey+2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqiFH95C_xKTJ7rPoYnUujkmob3FNwl2WMGD4ZfO-i0Q4ifhBg8jX8evOvZg14RR3jJxz2ofTVTBxr_4xBb5fcK3GnY_S9zpz80vxCvQWuliWMOdk9gdJ2XLImv4DpcBg-neCnl7MBFG6U/s320/Filey+2.jpg" width="315" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">That's me holding the catch of the day in 1955</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Arriving at the Cobble Landing, almost nothing appeared to have changed in the nearly 40 years since I was last there. The fishing cobbles look the same, although a worrying number are now made of plastic rather than wood. The amusement arcade is still in the same building, but the name has changed from Corrigan's to Holdsworth's - not the same ring! The cafe took me back into a time-warp - it was identical to how it was then. Since it was packed with customers stuffing themselves with fish & chips and other delicacies, I did not linger but took the 100 steps past fisherman's seat and into the town.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfL6KajOuq1Gf1Gq0RZx7fkg9an1bs52dH6fs840sU4-mzgO5U7olRMgE4o61V6zkXWyEmnBCmgvHoCVRwn8iWNsHRRSxy-kAUpkZ8b1xrHVxfwPf7NPXgNjlLnXQ6VUttMasaXic2JRpW/s1600/Fishermans+Seat.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="315" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfL6KajOuq1Gf1Gq0RZx7fkg9an1bs52dH6fs840sU4-mzgO5U7olRMgE4o61V6zkXWyEmnBCmgvHoCVRwn8iWNsHRRSxy-kAUpkZ8b1xrHVxfwPf7NPXgNjlLnXQ6VUttMasaXic2JRpW/s320/Fishermans+Seat.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Fisherman's Seat Filey - 1950</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
I spent time looking around Filey which has changed little since I was last there. The small terraced house where we used to stay sported newish double glazing but the outside toilet in the yard to the side of the house had been demolished. I made my way to the bus which took me back to Scarborough, a quayside supper of fish and chips and my bed for the night in West Street.<br />
<br />
The following day, I had a few hours to pass before leaving for home. Since it was a warm sunny morning, I took the bus northwards to Cloughton and joined the Cleveland Way for a pleasant three mile walk back from Cloughton Wyke to Scarborough. At first, the undulating path followed the line of the low cliffs, but this gave way to a broad stretch of grass before descending to the promenade past the derelict open air bathing pool. A steady walk around the gentle curve of North Bay, past the Castle perched on its headland and up to West Street where the car was waiting. I bid farewell to Scarborough and was on my way home.<br />
<br />
<br />Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-66714871207392435112012-06-10T10:30:00.000-07:002012-06-10T10:30:08.992-07:00Robin Hoods Bay to Whitby - Summer 1988 - 6 miles on footThis short retrospective is an account a one of my earliest walks which was completed a mere 24 years ago when I spent a few days away in Yorkshire with our eldest son in a cottage at Cloughton. At the time, my wife, Angela, was looking after our latest arrival at home. As there are no existing photographs of the walk - you will have to take my word for it that it was completed! For illustration purposes, I have included pictures that were taken by our family at other times.<br />
<br />
We drove to Robin Hoods Bay and parked the car at the top of the hill leading into the village. There are two paths that lead around the cliff towards Whitby. The Cleveland Way keeps to the cliff edge and the disused railway line which follows the contours of the slope makes for easier walking. We chose the latter route which gives good views across the sea, but reverted to the Cleveland Way at the point where the railway turned inland.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjj_awhNZdXNiL97wsTnrIt_1NrdR37MLVL1X71nxVMDmR7rQEOwKZsczX9ODlBkSB3R_FaEwDC76V06UD7biXtYx6Uc1OfLDVTcJGGyCq47FaOX3Mt2S0EvYmuifIgsR1UwI1tgD71HA/s1600/IMG_0011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRjj_awhNZdXNiL97wsTnrIt_1NrdR37MLVL1X71nxVMDmR7rQEOwKZsczX9ODlBkSB3R_FaEwDC76V06UD7biXtYx6Uc1OfLDVTcJGGyCq47FaOX3Mt2S0EvYmuifIgsR1UwI1tgD71HA/s320/IMG_0011.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Whitby Abbey taken on holiday in 1969</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
After a couple of hours walking, the ruins of Whitby Abbey came into view, always an unmistakeable view and the inspiration for Bram Stoker's Dracula novel. On past St Mary's Church and down the 199 steps into the "Old Town" with its narrow lanes. I remember from 1953 the smell of smoking fish on the steps, but none has been evident on subsequent visits. Perhaps we chose the wrong day, or perhaps smoking is now carried out on an industrial scale in a factory.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixd__uFunsFPzE_Hd-BNKu5XF60ciyHWKZ5m5gB0bqe0PCOWOVLmLh2iK2RcU_WrsMHP2jGZOxqkncgu09FDUMNPUE4dSwZJvvM5C01tsm5LkYgB1ohijBy6em-kr2tV3IO_QO9Uj9HgdL/s1600/IMG.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixd__uFunsFPzE_Hd-BNKu5XF60ciyHWKZ5m5gB0bqe0PCOWOVLmLh2iK2RcU_WrsMHP2jGZOxqkncgu09FDUMNPUE4dSwZJvvM5C01tsm5LkYgB1ohijBy6em-kr2tV3IO_QO9Uj9HgdL/s320/IMG.jpg" width="250" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>At Whitby Harbour in 1953</b></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
We had refreshments in the town and then took the bus back to the car at Robin Hoods Bay.Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-57523830112493342422012-06-01T12:03:00.002-07:002012-06-03T01:11:08.392-07:00Green Road to Askam in Furness - 26 May 2012 - 13 miles<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/GreenRoadToAskam" target="_blank">See all the pictures</a></span></b><br />
<br />
I was hoping that this would be the last trip to this area as I had planned to cover the the remaining distance of 18 miles in Cumbria that I had not previously walked or biked. In the event, I failed due to the heat, stomach aches and losing time threading my way along Duddon Sands. Having said that, I intend to be back, probably during the Autumn or Winter to polish off the remaining 5 miles and possibly take in some other attraction.<br />
<br />
The journey by train to Cumbria was exactly the same as the trip last month except that I left the train at Green Road station and started to walk at 1035. Before setting out, I made the decision to walk through as many villages as possible, rather than keep strictly to the Cumbria Coast Path which can be a little tedious at time and, in any case is incomplete in places.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjie9ZlqYcTHzadbJkc775AzLPcrtk1MIZIwg5bjTMQwYrdJhyhBSE2sqJhUbM6qhAUqyc6zivu5Hw0IUYxV5CruwyJFmCC4vbZxhnE-6-obScy7PCX_x6EqZs_IWyDYkBtBmF6TKvarvYK/s1600/P1020146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjie9ZlqYcTHzadbJkc775AzLPcrtk1MIZIwg5bjTMQwYrdJhyhBSE2sqJhUbM6qhAUqyc6zivu5Hw0IUYxV5CruwyJFmCC4vbZxhnE-6-obScy7PCX_x6EqZs_IWyDYkBtBmF6TKvarvYK/s320/P1020146.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The Green</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Immediately, I was rewarded for my choice by some lovely countryside in the foothills of the Lake District and two attractive villages in the first two miles. The Green boasted a stream that meandered through the village and no fewer than two pack horse bridges. Further on at the romantically named village of Lady Hall (1115 - 1.8 miles), there were some traditional stone built houses, although a number of them had been rendered and painted white - It looks pretty, but doesn't seem right against the looming mountains. Walking on, I joined the A595 for a short distance to Duddon Bridge (1145 - 3.4 miles). The traffic here was light and was negotiated without any drama. The traffic lights at Duddon Bridge held up the traffic to allow me to take pictures of the superb views up and downstream.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2raisJ9lj1BLLKi-mcZ_PiaB1WpjPQ8l46rgp1QtpOgEVZOLUV8OK2MpPQExk6yusAH6mVwUaMohmGkv_g9Fw9g3-Vqd9FuaQT2gWDhnmw64HGp92yjKk5pKTuqtHvU_kxHZ15RLGou-R/s1600/P1020151.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2raisJ9lj1BLLKi-mcZ_PiaB1WpjPQ8l46rgp1QtpOgEVZOLUV8OK2MpPQExk6yusAH6mVwUaMohmGkv_g9Fw9g3-Vqd9FuaQT2gWDhnmw64HGp92yjKk5pKTuqtHvU_kxHZ15RLGou-R/s320/P1020151.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">From Duddon Bridge</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
My route now took me away from the main road and along an Idyllic stretch by the River Duddon, a short distance along a footpath by the A595 and into Broughton in Furness (1215 - 4.4 miles). This was the most attractive village I passed through on the day. It had a thriving centre with busy local shops, a well turned out pub and an impressively massive stone built church. At one time a railway ran from Foxfield through Broughton to Coniston, but was closed in 1962.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Rq-UsOMRpk/T8Z4JpY_F6I/AAAAAAAAKV0/fj8yTs-QyiU/s1600/P1020155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8Rq-UsOMRpk/T8Z4JpY_F6I/AAAAAAAAKV0/fj8yTs-QyiU/s320/P1020155.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Broughton in Furness</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Passing the old railway station buildings, I made my way along the track bed and the footpath alongside the A595 to Foxfield (1250 - 6 miles). Although clearly marked on my map, Foxfield consists only of a pub and magnificent white painted wooden signal box. The Furness Railway has not been modified in the least which is very evident from the semaphore signalling to the manned level crossing - I suppose the lack of technical progress in this area does present greater employment options for the local people!<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz3_BsfNJDENF8BSjoM_CyDv_R6XhRr0X1Bwk33CDmBe6pMkwsDsUUySjL1xi4eoSBr1l7kWyo3AMkmjORLrmx1AML5i4f5TNBTgveGJTNjK64PzQnTkpnKho70-Gn1NF0q0b77SrivGKE/s1600/P1020158.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhz3_BsfNJDENF8BSjoM_CyDv_R6XhRr0X1Bwk33CDmBe6pMkwsDsUUySjL1xi4eoSBr1l7kWyo3AMkmjORLrmx1AML5i4f5TNBTgveGJTNjK64PzQnTkpnKho70-Gn1NF0q0b77SrivGKE/s320/P1020158.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Foxfield Station</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The remainder of my walk was along the Cumbria Coastal Way, passing over the level crossing below Foxfield and following initially the minor road, then a cross country footpath into Kirkby in Furness (1355 - 9 miles). This was the least interesting parts of the walk across fairly featureless countryside with only a couple of tumble down stone farmhouses to break the monotony. Kirkby itself is a straggling hotch potch of buildings despite being set in lovely rolling countryside and I was glad to cross the railway at the station bridge and begin walking along Duddon Sands.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLKRlgBckILOBHdez664HlGk8HVQsvKlBVXLqMDqXqgNN4Gdl_M-_RYlJyD-NECWtTgk0HGr5CC6zcjy0Ezij3aQy1Qg2Vdk6MPKchaMMOFWA1SQ_hNpbAAvVvRAiUrQGcN2cNx55MNo97/s1600/P1020161.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjLKRlgBckILOBHdez664HlGk8HVQsvKlBVXLqMDqXqgNN4Gdl_M-_RYlJyD-NECWtTgk0HGr5CC6zcjy0Ezij3aQy1Qg2Vdk6MPKchaMMOFWA1SQ_hNpbAAvVvRAiUrQGcN2cNx55MNo97/s320/P1020161.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Kirkby in Furness</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
The way here is ill defined and you have to find your own way between the railway and the tidal margins of Duddon Sands. After some practice, I found the best route to take where possible is to follow the high mark of the sands where it merges into pasture land. The sand is fairly firm and quite easy to walk along and the walker is rewarded with some nice views over the estuary towards Millom and behind towards the heights of the Lake District.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuGWbIldjM8vXxhoS1h8zjAl6VIknY9nax7UBp_7hlESU50kSaulKd886FUCwSd87Bdxe4IqtxdSJB5RU8MYJ6tTmDUCNz0Wn2puEnAA_k0wrHUvba13aBt2nouAmHdy2p6GKV29Zj52P/s1600/P1020172.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWuGWbIldjM8vXxhoS1h8zjAl6VIknY9nax7UBp_7hlESU50kSaulKd886FUCwSd87Bdxe4IqtxdSJB5RU8MYJ6tTmDUCNz0Wn2puEnAA_k0wrHUvba13aBt2nouAmHdy2p6GKV29Zj52P/s320/P1020172.JPG" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Duddon Sands near Askam in Furness Towards Millom</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
Having lost my way across the golf course, I reached Askam in Furness (1515 - 13 miles) and had a little time to explore this rather dilapidated town. I was, however, impressed by the cast iron fountain which had been erected to celebrate Queen Victoria's Diamond Jubilee and had recently acquired a fresh coat of paint for the forthcoming celebrations. Soon, the bus arrived and I was the only passenger the whole route into Barrow. I had refreshments at the customary Wetherspoons before boarding the train home via Preston and Birmingham.<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgXJPdv6sJoFuw7lModBS7gUCWxiV4P3CUD4xySBTgghNg9rW8kBOqTmHhpaEq3yBto7VT36hzbLMentRPfHGq_VvDwXuDjK3Aj3AxHoWT7ngl0TuMpDpGHN8hyphenhyphenPVB-8vaKkTRvgL_Nh4/s1600/P1020176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiHgXJPdv6sJoFuw7lModBS7gUCWxiV4P3CUD4xySBTgghNg9rW8kBOqTmHhpaEq3yBto7VT36hzbLMentRPfHGq_VvDwXuDjK3Aj3AxHoWT7ngl0TuMpDpGHN8hyphenhyphenPVB-8vaKkTRvgL_Nh4/s320/P1020176.JPG" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Drinking fountain at Askam</span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/GreenRoadToAskam" target="_blank">See all the pictures</a></span></b><br />
<b><br /></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Next trips - Subject to possible revision</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;">Saturday 30 June - Southwold to Aldeburgh</span></b><br />
<b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>28, 29, 30 July - Welcombe (Devon) to Tintagel (Cornwall)</b></span>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-45928672827025351042012-05-22T06:58:00.001-07:002012-05-22T06:58:14.692-07:00Cloughton to Saltburn - 20/21 July 2005 - 11+20 Miles<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/CloughtonToSaltburn" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">View all the pictures</span></a><br />
<br />
This is another retrospective blog of one of my favourite walks, covering some superb coastline and passing through many interesting places. Despite the title, the section between Robin Hoods Bay and Whitby was omitted as I had walked it earlier in 1988 - this will be the subject of my next retrospective.<br />
<br />
I left Birmingham New Street on the 0703, changing at York for the 0937, arriving in Scarborough at 1035. Since I had walked the stretch between Cloughton and Scarborough on a previous visit in 2000, I caught the bus to Cloughton, arriving there at about 1100. It was a lovely Summer day and much pleasant walking beckoned, but first I took a little time to explore this sturdy stone built village where I had holidayed in 1988.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsgqyRG-4wU9fs2J1ORF6elVaEWG3ituq6chdKS-dtf11Rt1tjS4ujGRIPPN5y-_zzIF1V4LCeQ2lwKloNcgKWPxi-HVKgHFIvaOJNX20i9QIsDxgVSu9iTlodf50FdkkVrk9UgzARwAG/s1600/01+Cloughton.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgEsgqyRG-4wU9fs2J1ORF6elVaEWG3ituq6chdKS-dtf11Rt1tjS4ujGRIPPN5y-_zzIF1V4LCeQ2lwKloNcgKWPxi-HVKgHFIvaOJNX20i9QIsDxgVSu9iTlodf50FdkkVrk9UgzARwAG/s320/01+Cloughton.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The first decision to make is which route to follow north towards Robin Hoods Bay. The old railway track has memories for me from a holiday way back in 1953 when I travelled down the line as a passenger with my parents en route from Scarborough to Whitby. I still remember the Shire Class locomotive "Selkirkshire" steaming into Scarborough Station ready to whisk us off to this, at the time, exotic destination. Sadly the line closed in 1965 and has been converted to a cycle/walking track.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDm85m_ZMMPCpIO0hpWS5vnnGAF_PUSFYP2YnFjRScaqHEPyU8bYcyiJmC5vceJVz2PeTmxMXGZuVy6u3e0RGRii6WlYjn5gbkjBTf37ZbqlOiZcAm4GrlbzUqZIL3cGqyJuF0bNQDkh_7/s1600/03+Cloughton+Wyke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDm85m_ZMMPCpIO0hpWS5vnnGAF_PUSFYP2YnFjRScaqHEPyU8bYcyiJmC5vceJVz2PeTmxMXGZuVy6u3e0RGRii6WlYjn5gbkjBTf37ZbqlOiZcAm4GrlbzUqZIL3cGqyJuF0bNQDkh_7/s320/03+Cloughton+Wyke.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Despite the nostalgia, I did not take this route as it ran for much of its course in cuttings which would have limited the view. Instead, I made straight for Cloughton Wyke (1126) and turned left to follow the Cleveland Way as my chosen path to the North. The path was very straightforward to walk and the scene constantly varied as the way rose over hills and then descended to the beach at a number of points on the route. I encountered few really steep inclines throughout the whole 2 days of walking.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI-t49R_uDcTXz7BgsvCyrX2DOhoXlvsi5k1Q0h2S9Xxnbr-60gKD-q7s5l3kND3QtH3XcuqS4-H80XM3mlhvnumirC1AHbJh6r2sTEV60C7vqZ6RZHFeJ3GWMHJ5X0Im3djyEwiNdUoiZ/s1600/08+Hayburn+Wyke.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgI-t49R_uDcTXz7BgsvCyrX2DOhoXlvsi5k1Q0h2S9Xxnbr-60gKD-q7s5l3kND3QtH3XcuqS4-H80XM3mlhvnumirC1AHbJh6r2sTEV60C7vqZ6RZHFeJ3GWMHJ5X0Im3djyEwiNdUoiZ/s320/08+Hayburn+Wyke.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
Over the small rise at the unusually named Rodger Trod, past some lovely farmland and down to the beach again at Hayburn Wyke - This was blissful walking! It contined like this until I reached Ravenscar (1345 - 7 miles), set on high land with a commanding view of the sea on along the coast to Robin Hoods Bay. Ravenscar was intended, in about 1900, to be developed into a resort to rival Scarborough. Roads were laid out and a few houses were built, but the idea never really caught on not least because it is a long way down to the beach and there isn't very much of it when you get there. I remember passing through the station in 1953, but it was closed little more than 10 years later.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1tcKA_xRPz_RZAbDQKBtfUE57njVhczRVT89azSUs3MWyG3qE96OPBjztbcHkCaHGfGmBG8_jnB1U9GiqqQT_VEGz8tmslK6ajCXEFtj4SjI5aRuejKfdkTsZWvcMz9w3ce-Boc0W6cZ/s1600/17+Towards+Robin+Hoods+Bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ1tcKA_xRPz_RZAbDQKBtfUE57njVhczRVT89azSUs3MWyG3qE96OPBjztbcHkCaHGfGmBG8_jnB1U9GiqqQT_VEGz8tmslK6ajCXEFtj4SjI5aRuejKfdkTsZWvcMz9w3ce-Boc0W6cZ/s320/17+Towards+Robin+Hoods+Bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The path now took me downwards, past alum workings, to the beach again at Stoupe Beck Sands where I crossed the bridge and then passed the famous Boggle Hole Youth Hostel. The way now climbed fairly steeply before descending to the foot of Robin Hoods Bay by the beach (1530 - 11miles). Despite the many tourists, Robin Hoods Bay is always a lovely place to visit and I enjoyed a wander up the narrow lane past the ancient buildings.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UQkrg4Y7WPc/T6VwpCvaglI/AAAAAAAAKMk/-xbCV236n2w/s1600/25+Robin+Hoods+Bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-UQkrg4Y7WPc/T6VwpCvaglI/AAAAAAAAKMk/-xbCV236n2w/s320/25+Robin+Hoods+Bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Since I had already walked the following stretch of the Cleveland Way to Whitby, I allowed myself the luxury of a bus ride and made my way up the hill to my abode for the night, the Esklet B&B. Having settled into this basic, but adequate and clean accommodation, I took myself out to explore the town which I knew from many previous visits. The late afternoon light was perfect for photography as I explored the quaysides and narrow lanes on both sides of the River Esk. I had promised myself a treat of fish and chips at the legendary Magpie Cafe on the north side of the harbour. To my dismay, when I got there, the queue for a seat stretched out of the door and along the quay for some distance. I therefore settled for an al fresco meal of fish and chips from a kiosk, eaten from the paper whilst sitting by the harbourside and fending off aggressive seagulls. The food was actually very good and I finished it off with an ice cream before taking to my bed for the night.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0gLOv_gy3EA/T6VwsBQuViI/AAAAAAAAKM0/dWQ5TGlA11I/s1600/27+Whitby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-0gLOv_gy3EA/T6VwsBQuViI/AAAAAAAAKM0/dWQ5TGlA11I/s320/27+Whitby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The next day was cloudier, but still quite warm and there was no sign of rain. An excellent "Full English" was good preparation for the day ahead and in no time I was walking soon after 0800 along the sands past beach chalets to Sandsend(0910 - 2.5 miles) which is a very attractive place solidly built in stone. It occupies a position between two valleys and the village spreads itself along the seafront and up into the valleys.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyF5nb6OP29RT71eTy2yqWDWztN0E_R4D5KI4b3uhsWYaXmhJdLc0MTj28s7vcFKRV7YjdFQ1yaPH694VLQ4bwIUhKD4ls6omqbvPUrwqNT6-9bMYYWYqJ9hiVieRVyAXvDx6Ysslg8nP/s1600/42+Sandsend.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidyF5nb6OP29RT71eTy2yqWDWztN0E_R4D5KI4b3uhsWYaXmhJdLc0MTj28s7vcFKRV7YjdFQ1yaPH694VLQ4bwIUhKD4ls6omqbvPUrwqNT6-9bMYYWYqJ9hiVieRVyAXvDx6Ysslg8nP/s320/42+Sandsend.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Onwards, along the line of the disused railway and immediately into the reason for the existence of the railway in the first place. Abandoned alum quarries are very apparent for much of the remainder of the route to Saltburn and the landscape in places can only be describes as Lunar as a result of spoil tipping over the cliffs. The alum industry has now long gone and with it, of course, the railway.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlD1vx2HmPG-cmJBMCoXI1eX86GfosQYUVRPx7aDassnfUPbtVpgzgBGvMAre8ZNexuIvZOKa_uXPYXGWOGOWdhc2t78dP2NUfhIQYsUxZSDAkNhC4N6dS3FXKplz4tWWiXuITf7h02SrR/s1600/44+Tunnel.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlD1vx2HmPG-cmJBMCoXI1eX86GfosQYUVRPx7aDassnfUPbtVpgzgBGvMAre8ZNexuIvZOKa_uXPYXGWOGOWdhc2t78dP2NUfhIQYsUxZSDAkNhC4N6dS3FXKplz4tWWiXuITf7h02SrR/s320/44+Tunnel.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Shortly, the railway track bed disappeared into a tunnel, but the path continued along the edge of the cliff through Kettleness (1040 - 6 miles), giving some excellent views of the sea and cliffs from my high position. Rounding the headland, I had a lovely view of Runswick Bay, Nestling in its steep valley at the end of the sandy bay. Walking downhill now, I had to negotiate the rocky bed of Calais Beck in order to reach the beach. From there, it was a pleasant walk along the sand to Runswick Bay (1110 - 8 miles).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFUdbd4nNGrcONtq9we514sdneDiTFqAQjLIAdhiOPfs3WGmkSkKkbJkRCfiDOZ7p0c0HfB3nBx9N1scJyRKzVSp036EoXK3B3SIHl2gPIrlTYn21oYrXm0hRCkd1EFIwWj06xonARODju/s1600/50+Runswick+Bay.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFUdbd4nNGrcONtq9we514sdneDiTFqAQjLIAdhiOPfs3WGmkSkKkbJkRCfiDOZ7p0c0HfB3nBx9N1scJyRKzVSp036EoXK3B3SIHl2gPIrlTYn21oYrXm0hRCkd1EFIwWj06xonARODju/s320/50+Runswick+Bay.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The village of Runswick Bay is best viewed from a distance. On arrival, I found the place scrupulously clean and all the buildings were newly decorated. Possibly because of this, it had little character - at least as far as I was concerned - it was a village of holiday cottages and second homes. Yesterday's visit to Robin Hoods Bay was far more interesting. I therefore pressed on over High Lingrow and through Port Mulgrave to Staithes (1230 - 11.5 miles)<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g7vBgde3WIg/T6VxjOojVrI/AAAAAAAAKQ8/jRJw3sFm25k/s1600/63+Staithes.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-g7vBgde3WIg/T6VxjOojVrI/AAAAAAAAKQ8/jRJw3sFm25k/s320/63+Staithes.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
My previous visit to Staithes was back in 1969 on a caravan holiday with my wife to be. The harbour, the old buildings and the instantly recognisable cliffs had lost none of their charm. I only found one change since my last visit - the hideously wonderful "Kirkhill Cafe" had been converted back into a private residence, but still fitted perfectly into its surroundings. I spent some time exploring and taking photographs before time demanded that I make my way across the Staithes Beck bridge and over Boulby Cliff into County Durham.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l_Mt2XLGT6M/T6VxtXSW9kI/AAAAAAAAKRs/JIPMnpTMojk/s1600/69+Boulby.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-l_Mt2XLGT6M/T6VxtXSW9kI/AAAAAAAAKRs/JIPMnpTMojk/s320/69+Boulby.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The deep potash mine at Boulby, I found out later, is also home to the UK Dark Matter detector - I am not too sure whether they have found any yet! It is also at Boulby where the coastal railway begins again as a goods only line to carry the potash into the national rail network at Saltburn. The views were good as I walked on past the factories and the pier at Skinningrove (1450 - 16 miles), joining up with the railway as it meandered its way northwards along the contours. It was at this point that I came across a strange sculpture depicting a mermaid and various strange animals.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aM0cYiLNDes/T6Vx7LI1-XI/AAAAAAAAKS8/eL2XUF6wYNM/s1600/80+Sculpture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-aM0cYiLNDes/T6Vx7LI1-XI/AAAAAAAAKS8/eL2XUF6wYNM/s320/80+Sculpture.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Very soon, Saltburn came into view and I could see the unmistakeable outline of Redcar in the distance. On reaching Saltburn (1630 - 19.5 miles), I had a little time to explore the seafront, the pier and the cliff railway before boarding my 1727 train home via Darlington and Birmingham New Street.<br />
<br />
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/CloughtonToSaltburn" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">View all the pictures</span></a>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-44973966088453298542012-05-02T08:57:00.001-07:002012-05-02T08:57:03.046-07:00Hycemoor to Green Road on foot - 28 April 2012 - 14 miles<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/HycemoorToGreenRoad" target="_blank">View the pictures</a></span><br />
<br />
A lot of soul searching went into the planning of this walk. On the face of it, the obvious way would be to drop down the lane from Hycemoor onto the Cumbria Coastal Way and follow this long distance path until I reached journey's end at Green Road. Although it can be described as the route closest to the coast, unfortunately it had a number of major drawbacks. Since I was travelling alone, the path is extremely isolated apart from minor incursions in Haverigg and Millom and, presumably out of mobile phone contact for much of its length.<br />
<br />
I also had done some pre-reading on this route and the literature is littered with stories of knee deep mud, and hard to walk on shingle. I still recall with pain my first encounter with Morecambe Bay back in 2004. I was on my way to Heysham from Lancaster and happened to place my foot inches from the track. I ended up knee deep in thick clinging mud. Further on, at the first sign of civilisation, a standpipe had been thoughtfully installed, presumably with the express purpose of cleaning the said mud from walking trousers. Now clean, my legs were very wet, but the sun was shining and by the time I reached Morecambe, I was dry.<br />
<br />
The third reason for not taking the coastal path was simply one of interest. Had I followed it, I would have seen virtually nothing except for mud, sand and shingle. Walking further inland took me through several towns and villages of the area in addition to a taste of the Lake District. In terms of my rules, such as they are, I deemed that I would be near enough to the coast. After all, I am not trying for an entry in the Guinness Book of Records!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJ-JgizQOy-l5XnOpJkdl1VM5VTSblhLpNtCJgr-dxVOkhi1ZKM_QqHqt1SmvRLosLrPAmyLASeuZI3xBYr3h_tIuJJ8olfZ9Zv7Q__UDetadXRllSTDxMibqgWaQMw9o42lYb_dQ-_Ft/s1600/P1020096.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCJ-JgizQOy-l5XnOpJkdl1VM5VTSblhLpNtCJgr-dxVOkhi1ZKM_QqHqt1SmvRLosLrPAmyLASeuZI3xBYr3h_tIuJJ8olfZ9Zv7Q__UDetadXRllSTDxMibqgWaQMw9o42lYb_dQ-_Ft/s320/P1020096.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Enough of reflection - my journey north ran very smoothly, leaving Hampton-in-Arden (Free parking) at 0624, arriving at Bootle Station at 1050. Why this station is called Bootle is beyond me when it is situated in the small, largely stone built Village of Hycemoor and can be easily confused with the two Bootle (Liverpool) Stations by the hapless traveller. Despite this, Hycemoor is a very tidy, well cared for village, not pretty, but can any Lake District working village be so described.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZUpF2Lp5QrhCFYaH8lSrkW1cXdnLu6kcWFlR2pUGLStLcCjuEGbyxzFdJbXjZtrQklRg3U2Hw3OMdFAOFMSo6bvhvtfnrkvrl5t8bli_EIRxsUay0ImgtY74TlwxfhsD9tcCNE7GisGF/s1600/P1020098.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxZUpF2Lp5QrhCFYaH8lSrkW1cXdnLu6kcWFlR2pUGLStLcCjuEGbyxzFdJbXjZtrQklRg3U2Hw3OMdFAOFMSo6bvhvtfnrkvrl5t8bli_EIRxsUay0ImgtY74TlwxfhsD9tcCNE7GisGF/s320/P1020098.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The Sun was shining and the breeze signalled a good day's walking, so I moved swiftly along the lane out of Hycemoor and was immediately greeted by lovely views of the nearly fields and the distant mountains. The entry to Bootle (1118 - 1.3miles) was a depressing estate of cheap grubby looking housing - yes, Bootle is within the boundary of the National Park but these houses probably pre-date the foundation of the Park in 1951 by no more than 1 or 2 years. In a way, they could be described as heritage dwellings. The narrow Main Street is disadvantaged in a different way through having to accommodate the A595.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBE6HhgE_XXxBG5FjjSKQyFNfgWyqtx1B4hn8W950ABYci8jB1ljkW27jiyhxYCyAi7qFzgxRUN3FmluvCuqtfW_RVzN6HgYri76osqtomDgzKwMn3SzfuQcgTYmpbUuwBTaywXfblrN5/s1600/P1020099.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlBE6HhgE_XXxBG5FjjSKQyFNfgWyqtx1B4hn8W950ABYci8jB1ljkW27jiyhxYCyAi7qFzgxRUN3FmluvCuqtfW_RVzN6HgYri76osqtomDgzKwMn3SzfuQcgTYmpbUuwBTaywXfblrN5/s320/P1020099.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
This was the route I took out of Bootle and, although the verges were fairly generous, I was grateful to escape the traffic at the first opportunity and take to the footpath at Holegill Beck. From there, I travelled south parallel to the main road along the lower slopes of Black Combe. There, I enjoyed the pastoral scenes of the lowland beneath me and lazy sheep and cattle. Despite the unprecedented April rains, the going was firm underfoot with only the occasional wet patch. At Whitbeck (1221 - 4.3miles) I passed an attractive but not spectacular waterfall on Millergill Beck.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmE3_5GLbj4ThvCg7_Z-N2P_BNiBjg-WZa9jkAqVsrNt2u9mbzXi1u-Yct4plSdYhQv6SL9fowtby3GbQxRx8W4Z5L_uvIrf0fOjz9-h8N9V7DaFmaNzljQ-0x2_pz53L11krykVozBTm/s1600/P1020104.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgmE3_5GLbj4ThvCg7_Z-N2P_BNiBjg-WZa9jkAqVsrNt2u9mbzXi1u-Yct4plSdYhQv6SL9fowtby3GbQxRx8W4Z5L_uvIrf0fOjz9-h8N9V7DaFmaNzljQ-0x2_pz53L11krykVozBTm/s320/P1020104.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
At Sledbank, I parted company with the hills and took a footpath that crossed the railway line that led directly into Silecroft (1300 - 5.8miles). The middle of this path was not well defined, so I had to retrace my steps for a short distance before I found the correct route into this rather unremarkable village of whitewashed stone cottages. Moving swiftly on down a grassy lane out of Silecroft and then onto a footpath across fields, I came across "Giant's Grave", the remains of which are two standing stones which date from the Bronze Age. The associated burial mound disappeared some time ago.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZkW1TbJnms/T52Gt95CzzI/AAAAAAAAJ8Y/RSZkUOYkQ9s/s1600/P1020108.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-7ZkW1TbJnms/T52Gt95CzzI/AAAAAAAAJ8Y/RSZkUOYkQ9s/s320/P1020108.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I then followed a lane into Kirksanton (1330 - 6.8miles) which is probably the prettiest place I walked through. Passing a dovecote, I discovered that many of the houses of the village are arranged round a large village green which is set back from the main road. I then pressed on across fields which were being prepared for sowing, over a rickety bridge and towards Haverigg.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVthK6RalnBZ28a1Lig9_wbKeGD5lzUR2IDxm6R2ioD9zXWl5-dTWgTLe2miuRDWTNJFYzI5TmknLGe5yvs7DBgYgvJgwEDAWW360PRs8FKIoNJ9puTg4UyVrYebYrvx5CtXAdg8WuESj/s1600/P1020115.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWVthK6RalnBZ28a1Lig9_wbKeGD5lzUR2IDxm6R2ioD9zXWl5-dTWgTLe2miuRDWTNJFYzI5TmknLGe5yvs7DBgYgvJgwEDAWW360PRs8FKIoNJ9puTg4UyVrYebYrvx5CtXAdg8WuESj/s320/P1020115.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The first encounter with Haverigg was the prison and the high fences topped with razor wire informed me that this was a maximum security establishment. I recall back in 2007 that I accidentally walked into the North Sea Camp Open Prison near Boston. There was clearly no possibility here! Haverigg itself (1415 - 9.3miles) is a dull place, but it does brighten up as the small harbour and the nearby pub are reached. At least one cottage had been spruced up, but the owners clearly had a sense of humour by naming it "Dunelm Cottage". Perhaps that is where they buy their furnishings.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bMSWLu4Dr2M/T52G70lyECI/AAAAAAAAJ9Y/0d_zaj7ZHFE/s1600/P1020116.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-bMSWLu4Dr2M/T52G70lyECI/AAAAAAAAJ9Y/0d_zaj7ZHFE/s320/P1020116.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The next part of the walk was along the edge of the flat expanse of Duddon Sands. Much of this part of the walk was spent threading my way through sprawling residential caravan sites. Having worked my way through, I passed a disused quarry on the road into Millom (1500 - 11.5miles).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Ql6FsJSJnU/T52HBDzrBXI/AAAAAAAAJ9w/zhldiVySHbE/s1600/P1020120.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-2Ql6FsJSJnU/T52HBDzrBXI/AAAAAAAAJ9w/zhldiVySHbE/s320/P1020120.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Millom is a solid if unattractive town. This is probably down to economic factors and is evident in the poor repair of a number of buildings of architectural interest. As I made my way towards the station, I passed a number of unoccupied shops which gave the place a rather forlorn look. By the station, I found the "Bridge Cafe" - not the same place that is featured on "The Apprentice" - and treated myself to a mug of tea and buttered toasted teacake for the princely sum of £1.40!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C3QFYJx-1MA/T52HCsAPD-I/AAAAAAAAJ98/vcfrCA9lv_o/s1600/P1020121.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-C3QFYJx-1MA/T52HCsAPD-I/AAAAAAAAJ98/vcfrCA9lv_o/s320/P1020121.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
My original plan was to terminate the walk in Millom but the refreshments worked wonders and I didn't fancy spending the next two hours in Millom waiting for my train. After a brief look at the church and main square, I moved on along Millom Bank with a spring in my step, with only the sheep for company and views of the estuary on my right and the hills on both sides. One interesting oddity was a small brick building, presumably from WW2 with what appeared to be a flying goose plaque on the front. The military are now long gone and the place has been occupied by sheep.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEfaycfJIGBv-a4ffYFSvdTGuWlLPyMOb1_wIFKiy6tjQrCEAsebmSN9UvtPb8aNJR3BWr7aV1ZfXijExRObYsN5fsFeusQxSVoOZmNDL99qehtybASq22Rdzjzb0tY8O0fsPE5yxVxA6/s1600/P1020129.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheEfaycfJIGBv-a4ffYFSvdTGuWlLPyMOb1_wIFKiy6tjQrCEAsebmSN9UvtPb8aNJR3BWr7aV1ZfXijExRObYsN5fsFeusQxSVoOZmNDL99qehtybASq22Rdzjzb0tY8O0fsPE5yxVxA6/s320/P1020129.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I arrived at Green Road Station (1620 - 14.3miles) in time to catch an earlier 1623 train to Preston via Barrow. Preston Station was rowdy with Charlton supporters celebrating their promotion to the Championship. Thank goodness the football season is nearly over and Saturdays will now be quieter - until September. I made my way to the local Wetherspoon pub where I had a tasty but small portion of fish and chips washed down with a pint. Thus fed. I made my way back for my train, arriving back in Hampton-in-Arden at 2232 via Birmingham New Street.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/HycemoorToGreenRoad" target="_blank">View the pictures</a></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Next Walking Trips</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Saturday 26 May - Cumbria</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Green Road to Barrow or Dalton in Furness - 15 or 18 Miles</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Saturday 30 June - Suffolk</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Southwold to Aldeburgh - 15 Miles and Ferry</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span><br />
<br />Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-26463286859405902752012-04-19T11:50:00.001-07:002012-04-19T11:50:59.607-07:00Saltburn to Billingham - 1 April 2008 - 16 Miles<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/SaltburnBillingham" target="_blank">See the pictures</a></span><br />
<br />
This is yet another retrospective blog describing my recollections of a walk from Saltburn to Billingham via Redcar, the "Black Path" through what remained of the Teesside industrial area and over the Middlesborough Transporter Bridge to Billingham. Varied, if nothing else! It was all part of the coastal walk task I had set myself - so it had to be done.<br />
<br />
I took the now familiar route to the North, reaching Saltburn with one change at Darlington. <br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKu0GUWAIIkmPbTzIw0wx5u-jmEejnHNCSEjJMJ2oItWHKX6ns3myJiqR4BYGnQRhjyQzALze9dMWveefBNhq2SaWh7-w8uOFJ7UH4pe4rOgVvwB70kZJmL39S8z-0lJghyphenhyphenlpVl5ldJ0k/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbKu0GUWAIIkmPbTzIw0wx5u-jmEejnHNCSEjJMJ2oItWHKX6ns3myJiqR4BYGnQRhjyQzALze9dMWveefBNhq2SaWh7-w8uOFJ7UH4pe4rOgVvwB70kZJmL39S8z-0lJghyphenhyphenlpVl5ldJ0k/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I arrived in Saltburn at about 1120 and took a little time to explore the small town and the seafront. Paid for by the iron industry, Saltburn was developed as a resort in the latter half of the 19th Century. The town largely retains its Victorian atmosphere and remains relatively unspoilt with many original buildings that have not been "improved" over the years. Three other Saltburn assets are the wide sandy beach, the pier and the water powerd funicular railway.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLSJ6-iuvuHO4b_1Qxc-k4Kt45yb3tqFEl7YsYJkngnp0u40ycfMlID7MxTd3LHs3eCyvlJiQDV2av0hqaaMCnBGoz4CU02LP3YreZmitKkOiQkpjVYZ8gsTgQ-QFiFsOV6IZIKVcZYoa/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiiLSJ6-iuvuHO4b_1Qxc-k4Kt45yb3tqFEl7YsYJkngnp0u40ycfMlID7MxTd3LHs3eCyvlJiQDV2av0hqaaMCnBGoz4CU02LP3YreZmitKkOiQkpjVYZ8gsTgQ-QFiFsOV6IZIKVcZYoa/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I descended to the beach and enjoyed a blissful walk on firm sand with the quiet water gently lapping the beach on my right and the dunes rising to my left. This is a favourite spot for seabirds and I was able to approach a group of sanderlings who were foraging in the shallow water.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmRmoqQ_znUq6Ut7p-tnSDfrAwt0hOh2oyWrtvSS0U6sqDNKQaEjkph-g7ibHaffZDMutrLE_lh9JjVMaArK_SukL-2O_LFYzXztIO8hsIIxLrbpolsnbxkLTQGtB9YpQu6PpFSUCIzmj/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsmRmoqQ_znUq6Ut7p-tnSDfrAwt0hOh2oyWrtvSS0U6sqDNKQaEjkph-g7ibHaffZDMutrLE_lh9JjVMaArK_SukL-2O_LFYzXztIO8hsIIxLrbpolsnbxkLTQGtB9YpQu6PpFSUCIzmj/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Maerske by the Sea (1155 - 2 Miles)consists of one large Victorian house perched precariously on the top of a dune with a straggling assortment of houses meandering inland from that point. A couple of fishing cobles were parked higher up on the beach waiting to go out for the day's catch. It looks as though Maerske was intended as a rival to Saltburn that never really succeeded.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKI2rfWyuOTpJ0L2S43Z79tvbV6NAT2Mo4FXQttEPXrHvDtJ-DD0c13AOVOVCpJAyYg3BvIi4yQ2fuQEbw4-sUYkKnV624B80CbzrUa0HRqnSS1n2KJq8KIxZj1F1uq_XfcjWcqhBLqkk/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0008.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjWKI2rfWyuOTpJ0L2S43Z79tvbV6NAT2Mo4FXQttEPXrHvDtJ-DD0c13AOVOVCpJAyYg3BvIi4yQ2fuQEbw4-sUYkKnV624B80CbzrUa0HRqnSS1n2KJq8KIxZj1F1uq_XfcjWcqhBLqkk/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0008.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The sand gradually gave way to gravel and then to pebbles which made the walking less pleasant, so I was glad to reach the promenade at Redcar (1235 - 4 miles). It was becoming quite sunny by now and the fishing boats made a splendid sight as I progressed along the seafront with few holidaymakers in evidence on this early April Saturday.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVI6a6_qqU_yB4byHzi3_0ExQz6EPmavE_DJcs838qe1tQHn0NFsb7FCF2yBKgpvvLRQs4Wuvj2-fPmavvqWW23fPC5A47TOcUEf53asKWnT0KbAKIfGBSDRLOPozCc8s4egJZh_09acu/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0012.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiVI6a6_qqU_yB4byHzi3_0ExQz6EPmavE_DJcs838qe1tQHn0NFsb7FCF2yBKgpvvLRQs4Wuvj2-fPmavvqWW23fPC5A47TOcUEf53asKWnT0KbAKIfGBSDRLOPozCc8s4egJZh_09acu/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0012.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In contrast to Saltburn, the buildings in Redcar were a mixture of cheap modern and over-improved old. The one exception was a lovely Victorian building at the end of the promenade called, inappropriately, "The Regency". A few paces further along and I was surrounded by a small group of penguins - modern art - presumably.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZmC47BnxKNe0DnDVf11BYenAHsCsJXL38JLX82eTnlhrnNNbZKrectB6PMrPXsZLe9p-sqf-UOpFwykA0SsntS3ft5d1WG5NwQV7PIMxGE7nYT4QaKEa3N38hBe2lvcZzQtdq_oxuQQ9b/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZmC47BnxKNe0DnDVf11BYenAHsCsJXL38JLX82eTnlhrnNNbZKrectB6PMrPXsZLe9p-sqf-UOpFwykA0SsntS3ft5d1WG5NwQV7PIMxGE7nYT4QaKEa3N38hBe2lvcZzQtdq_oxuQQ9b/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The outline of the Redcar steel works now loomed into view and I paid my attention to finding the start of the Teesdale Way, or "Black Path" as it is sometimes known. The problem was to get to the other side of the railway line that ran alongside the Tees without injuring myself either from rubble strewn ground or trains carrying molten iron from the nearby works. I eventually found it by going under a bridge via a narrow walkway (1340 - 8 miles).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZ0TipKF58OPBt01c5bdmSWEOy-RK1ZB3O4DbMEgp4wZxoP6Qz-lfh1405QPNgRlkw-sDANBnfmbd4Q1JG2_fu57W28j9z8JxOjc7OLkSadNUjDS0impUx0TUe-Ai3KpoPkkoyF6JCqjG/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0014.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZ0TipKF58OPBt01c5bdmSWEOy-RK1ZB3O4DbMEgp4wZxoP6Qz-lfh1405QPNgRlkw-sDANBnfmbd4Q1JG2_fu57W28j9z8JxOjc7OLkSadNUjDS0impUx0TUe-Ai3KpoPkkoyF6JCqjG/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0014.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Starting off as a rough gravel path, the way did indeed become a black cinder track as I progressed. New industries appear to have taken the place of many of the old and there were piles of rubble to mark where previous works once stood. There were, however, a number of working installations, the most significant of which was a coking plant on the opposite bank of the Tees. After coal is heated to form coke, it is quenched to cool it down and to stop it burning up in the atmosphere. From a distance, I noticed regular plumes of steam which drifted over the river, condensing as it passed by.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s7gD1fi_qn0/T45nOzVtA_I/AAAAAAAAJ5k/DDP4t39dDPQ/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-s7gD1fi_qn0/T45nOzVtA_I/AAAAAAAAJ5k/DDP4t39dDPQ/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0019.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
I thought I had timed my walk past perfectly, but no! When I was directly opposite, a plume of steam went up and water droplets containing particles of coke dust were deposited on me. Fortunately, the dust did not stain and was easily brushed off once I was dry again. The end of the Black Path was in sight and my route took me past the home of Middlesborough Football Club, the Riverside Stadium.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O5gyksY3d-s/T45nVSuXzTI/AAAAAAAAJ58/vaZtNaepvyY/s1600/2008_0402Middlesborough0022.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-O5gyksY3d-s/T45nVSuXzTI/AAAAAAAAJ58/vaZtNaepvyY/s320/2008_0402Middlesborough0022.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I did not dwell there, because a) I am not a great football fan and b) the vastly more interesting Middlesborough Transporter Bridge was now in my sights. Reaching the bridge (1525 - 13 miles) having walked through a semi-derelict area that contained one nice survival, a brick clock tower. Having paid my fare, I was transported silently across the Tees on this wonderful construction, the only other cargo being a car and single driver. I am sure the bridge must receive a heavy subsidy and survives as a symbol of the area's past and a tourist attraction.<br />
<br />
I had planned a possible extension of the walk to Seaton Carew, but time, light and energy were all in short supply, so I decided to save Seaton Carew for another day and trudged my way to Billingham Station (1630 - 16 miles) past derelict dockland and depressing housing.<br />
<br />
On the way home, I had to change trains at Thornaby which brought back memories of a failed job interview for an engineering company called Head Wrightson in 1964. Little now remains of industrial Thornaby from those days. The large brick built workshops that bordered the Tees have now been replaced by aluminium clad constructions that can be seen on any business or retail park. Had I been offered the job, life would have been different but probably not better.
<br />
<br />
I travelled on to Darlington where I had suitable refreshments before catching the 1856 to Birmingham and home.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/SaltburnBillingham" target="_blank">See the pictures</a></span>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-34486944947985122462012-04-17T01:01:00.000-07:002012-04-17T01:01:09.121-07:00Alnmouth to Amble - 27 May and Newbiggin to South Shields - 28 May 2008<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/AlnmouthSouthShields" target="_blank">See the pictures</a></span><br />
<br />
This is the second of my retrospective blogs that I shall be writing on all of my earlier coastal walks. To lend some structure to this series, I shall be dealing with them in geographical order, starting at Northumberland and moving clockwise until I reach Cumbria. Since memory fades with time, these blogs will be shorter than the more recent ones. However, I do have some photographs of most of my trips and following my progress on the map should help to bring the experiences back to life for me and, hopefully, anyone else who cares to read my exploits.<br />
<br />
I took the 0932 train from Birmingham New Street and, as far as I can remember, arrived at Alnmouth on time at 1400. At that time, Virgin held the Cross Copuntry franchise and, although the trains remain the same, but older, Virgin had the edge on humour and making a 5 hour journey more bearable.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSQH2q8vaPOLe3gqSXHbPngZCxRzQM8S8kvFuDfDSGXSsGcl3BRNbS13AHdqkfsyZ8-qQyTzpCF0DczVSWvxFdwrZirjmFNVISaG41jYNEmMc83IyCfZnl69j2_vSU8T5kSTMZUZTnbET/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglSQH2q8vaPOLe3gqSXHbPngZCxRzQM8S8kvFuDfDSGXSsGcl3BRNbS13AHdqkfsyZ8-qQyTzpCF0DczVSWvxFdwrZirjmFNVISaG41jYNEmMc83IyCfZnl69j2_vSU8T5kSTMZUZTnbET/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
On arrival, the day was fine, but slightly overcast. From Alnmouth, it was a short walk down to the A1068 and the cycle track that bordered it. As soon as possible (NU241093) I parted company with the bikes and made for the dunes along St Oswalds Way. The sand was soft, the going heavy and, despite it being a reasonably fine day in May, there were very few people about making for an isolated and desolate atmosphere.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hp-Cttcziyc/T4xn5zNcenI/AAAAAAAAJzY/VcAUqZhBqwQ/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0003.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Hp-Cttcziyc/T4xn5zNcenI/AAAAAAAAJzY/VcAUqZhBqwQ/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0003.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Since I was running behind schedule, I left the beach after the rocks after Birling Carrs (NU255074) and just before Warkworth Golf Club, heading once again for the cycle track beside the A1068 and Warkworth. By now the day was becoming decidedly hazy.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFXDjPuYastq4SjhjGWecgnn6I2cjDvYPTWJxtIUuUXqLZOyWkskf80FkhElRMJ4frZahF8UnZU9hNW4OjpVyi_IFkl7QjpXafYLymgmh-wq3xmo-hHWN_h9YGly88sy6BadBlDt3xSTZ/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0006.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLFXDjPuYastq4SjhjGWecgnn6I2cjDvYPTWJxtIUuUXqLZOyWkskf80FkhElRMJ4frZahF8UnZU9hNW4OjpVyi_IFkl7QjpXafYLymgmh-wq3xmo-hHWN_h9YGly88sy6BadBlDt3xSTZ/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0006.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Warkworth is a lovely place complete with castle, ancient bridge and stone buildings. With the exception of the busy A-road, time appears to have left Warkworth unspoilt. On this occasion, I walked by the riverside road past cottages, including the delightfully named "Shrubbery House", while the tranquil River Coquet flowed past on my left. Passing Warkworth Castle, I took the Amble road, following the Coquet River as it broadened out towards the weir which was the only obstacle to be overcome before reaching the sea.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFlRz4XMn4DH0ibqZNxvoSFhHqABA_5otXF5eQFPAOmr2ekanQOa9NzRpaYimadpIVlMzmxZcvD_TXJ9nWviUFIZdJP7V2Fe364OD9Eyk1jttnQGAnZvDf1Mr68EEfrOYQxA2tK3fFSfz/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOFlRz4XMn4DH0ibqZNxvoSFhHqABA_5otXF5eQFPAOmr2ekanQOa9NzRpaYimadpIVlMzmxZcvD_TXJ9nWviUFIZdJP7V2Fe364OD9Eyk1jttnQGAnZvDf1Mr68EEfrOYQxA2tK3fFSfz/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0013.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Amble (6 Miles) grew on the Northumberland coal export trade. The coal and the railway are now long gone and the town now subsists on fishing, boat repairs and tourism. The harbour, once busy with coal traffic is now largely taken up by an attractive marina. The town itself is mainly stone built terraces and has a very solid feel to it.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NuxVLqRXEGc/T4xoRi66JsI/AAAAAAAAJ1A/7iJWNYWQeSw/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0016.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-NuxVLqRXEGc/T4xoRi66JsI/AAAAAAAAJ1A/7iJWNYWQeSw/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0016.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Grabbing a sandwich, I decided to press on in the knowledge that I still had 12 miles to cover and it was already approaching 1700. As I progressed out of Amble, the cloud cover increased and it appeared as though a storm might be brewing. Since there was little in the way of habitation between Amble and Newbiggin, I made the decision to abandon this part of the walk and catch a bus the remainder of the way.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fowykvm43HU/T4xoTPDULBI/AAAAAAAAJ1I/omoDeTKataM/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0017.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-fowykvm43HU/T4xoTPDULBI/AAAAAAAAJ1I/omoDeTKataM/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0017.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
My mistake here was to assume that I could walk through High Hauxley (9 Miles) to catch a bus on the A1068. The pleasurable part of this unscheduled journey was to find that High Hauxley is a very attractive village of both new and old building, all constructed of local stone. The bad news, when I reached the A1068 was to discover that no buses ran along that road. I therefore beat a hasty retreat back to Amble, resolving to be more meticulous in my planning for the unexpected on future trips!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LmXXKlWujco/T4xoV6x7ZhI/AAAAAAAAJ1Y/2RyKKsRfazM/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0019.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LmXXKlWujco/T4xoV6x7ZhI/AAAAAAAAJ1Y/2RyKKsRfazM/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0019.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Arriving back in Amble, I found to my relief that I hadn't missed the last bus, so I was soon on my way to Newbiggin via Morpeth in ever fading light. The journey was depressing and a wait of about 3/4 hour seemed endless in drizzly, almost deserted Morpeth. I eventually arrived at my abode for the night, The Windsor Bed and Breakfast, had time for a little exploring before settling down for the night.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VIcku6H6ftRP2PXuyJ3_MruyWOCZQXC7_x3XT3oJO1yKbCQ-4sfhRt6u189No2eKtFc6o7Xq1eXLDISym_JU7ssZl0cy9j9ceT6V7q4PVhEe_JzW3cP0w7pN2458_XEQG0KbD3s7L5DL/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0023.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5VIcku6H6ftRP2PXuyJ3_MruyWOCZQXC7_x3XT3oJO1yKbCQ-4sfhRt6u189No2eKtFc6o7Xq1eXLDISym_JU7ssZl0cy9j9ceT6V7q4PVhEe_JzW3cP0w7pN2458_XEQG0KbD3s7L5DL/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0023.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Breakfast in the morning was excellent, but the dining room was something else. In comparison to my sparsely furnished, but comforable and scrupulously clean bedroom, the dining room had ankle high carpet and ornaments on literally every horizontal surface. How the owners kept the room, let alone all the bedrooms clean is beyond me.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TN5goyVRc_A/T4xoY6drxPI/AAAAAAAAJ1o/QjZTuhz8a78/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0025.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-TN5goyVRc_A/T4xoY6drxPI/AAAAAAAAJ1o/QjZTuhz8a78/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0025.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Fortified by my breakfast, I set out in the drizzle, heading south along the coast path and then across the River Wansbeck next to the busy and noisy A189 dual carriageway. Rather than make a lengthy detour to East Sleekburn via the coast, I travelled west and then carefully negotiated a large road interchange. Moving on, I crossed the Sleek Burn and worked my way through a complicated cycle route at Bedlington before arriving to the west of Blyth at Cowpen (7 Miles).<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhx_V1cC9_0/T4xocfGjclI/AAAAAAAAJ14/ldWrvdXr0Jc/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0028.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-hhx_V1cC9_0/T4xocfGjclI/AAAAAAAAJ14/ldWrvdXr0Jc/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0028.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
In an attempt to escape from busy roads, I followed the cycle route through Blyth, arriving at the sea front at South Beach. For my pains, I was rewarded with the honour of walking through one of the most depressing housing estates I have ever seen! I may have done better sticking to the shoreline.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQHSetM-Ww1nyoXtrQ3gbu7RaTZlDYvZeBo6tVZAiv_-VjyZ_q6zBJJxAncZQiXehyqvL4bytKaD4gi7k0ochFuQursEQaedg0Kdptye-JSJf37aniId0IwYV1SH6eCmQeQyP-obB068T/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0029.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgsQHSetM-Ww1nyoXtrQ3gbu7RaTZlDYvZeBo6tVZAiv_-VjyZ_q6zBJJxAncZQiXehyqvL4bytKaD4gi7k0ochFuQursEQaedg0Kdptye-JSJf37aniId0IwYV1SH6eCmQeQyP-obB068T/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0029.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Having reached the sea, things were now looking up. The sun came out and the remainder of my walk along the Eve Black Coastal Walkway was pleasantly warm. Despite its name, Seaton Sluice (11 Miles) was an attractive place, built around a small natural harbour.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RYMlUhKeJKw/T4xoi2BrWQI/AAAAAAAAJ2Q/SF8IdotFRfA/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0031.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RYMlUhKeJKw/T4xoi2BrWQI/AAAAAAAAJ2Q/SF8IdotFRfA/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0031.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
All too soon, I was walking along the promenade at Whitley Bay (14 Miles) en route for a rendez-vous with an old school friend I hadn't seen for almost 40 years. We met at the Old Fire Station, now a Wetherspoon pub that managed to retain much of the original atmosphere. I particularly appreciated the fire bucket style urinals!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ngFoQaPE3bw/T4xoqBxHKCI/AAAAAAAAJ24/ZcTjav_mM0c/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-ngFoQaPE3bw/T4xoqBxHKCI/AAAAAAAAJ24/ZcTjav_mM0c/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0037.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
After a meal and a couple of hours chat, it was time to move on through Tynemouth with its castle, pier and Lighthouses, then onto the bustling River Tyne and North Shields (17 Miles). There, I had a short wait, before boarding the ferry across the river to South Shields.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2D1_kFaNsvDNqt8gmDfXC8cQcIBJGuKq3z52DC7ZwNyQmyvXYhR0_C3sKLNfGJWQNbMRNqgmdekhabScZeOsaXQtes0r0r3RfoOsePSmErRwF7I8XQiGsbgFNau9O4e-slOqmt14BjCR/s1600/2008_0528Newbiggin0039.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjS2D1_kFaNsvDNqt8gmDfXC8cQcIBJGuKq3z52DC7ZwNyQmyvXYhR0_C3sKLNfGJWQNbMRNqgmdekhabScZeOsaXQtes0r0r3RfoOsePSmErRwF7I8XQiGsbgFNau9O4e-slOqmt14BjCR/s320/2008_0528Newbiggin0039.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
A short walk through the busy shopping centre took me to the Metro Station and a train to Newcastle. Glancing at the destination board at Newcastle Central, I was horrified to note that my scheduled train had been cancelled. Fortunately I was in the nick of time to catch the previous train which brought me back to Birmingham around 2100.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/AlnmouthSouthShields" target="_blank">See the pictures</a></span>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-30806982443443271352012-04-06T12:01:00.001-07:002012-04-07T12:28:41.140-07:00West Hythe (Westenhanger) to Folkestone on foot - 31 March 2012 - 11 Miles<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/WestenhangerToFolkestone" target="_blank"><span style="font-size: large;">See the pictures</span></a><br />
<br />
This walk covers much the same ground that I travelled during 2009 on the bike. Having walked most of the south coast well into Cornwall it seemed a pity that the few miles to Dover should have been completed using mechanical means. Also, since I am in danger of completing the whole coastline of England before the onset of senility, I have resolved to walk as much as possible from now on.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gY5g4GWe3zg/T3xkDoGPiwI/AAAAAAAAJtI/dB0HX4zlYX4/s1600/P1020030.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-gY5g4GWe3zg/T3xkDoGPiwI/AAAAAAAAJtI/dB0HX4zlYX4/s320/P1020030.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
An early start, as usual, and the 0600 Virgin Voyager from Birmingham International brought me into London Euston by 0716, where I transferred quickly to the Northern Line, bound for London Bridge Station. At Bank Station, an announcement informed me that the train would not stop at my intended destination due to a fire alert. I therefore made a rapid exit from the train and made my way through the City on foot and over London bridge. As I walked, I was able to take in views of Tower Bridge and the almost complete "Shard".<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLIe1gGy28pFVI40FAp_d0JNolhga3zqjAnTpAERZAo4ug1Z-GUfu2aBmHVUTl_xeW1q_Q4oTo5hjLGT4c4CTiz2O3zNruPDlQ2NhXpuhJsN72W7cvNwIC3mqWXbAIORzLFuSbrXP-aQk/s1600/P1020033.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinLIe1gGy28pFVI40FAp_d0JNolhga3zqjAnTpAERZAo4ug1Z-GUfu2aBmHVUTl_xeW1q_Q4oTo5hjLGT4c4CTiz2O3zNruPDlQ2NhXpuhJsN72W7cvNwIC3mqWXbAIORzLFuSbrXP-aQk/s320/P1020033.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
Arriving at London Bridge Station, I was relieved to find the place was not in ashes and I was in plenty of time to catch the 0808 which arrived at Westenhanger at 0938, having divided at Ashford. The station is next door to Folkestone Race Course - a seemingly inappropriate name since I still had about 10 miles to walk to the town of that name. The weather was cooler and cloudier than of late, but there was only a slight breeze and no prospect of rain. Having passed the green expanse of the racecourse, I walked through Westenhanger which is simply a collection of dull, sometimes scruffy houses strung out along the lane.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrHbUC72vEpU3QWBgnyL0cblxtvmPYUBLDqC_7hY5D0xoHyRxS3zmN3hQG_P5uZM7kXqIVtLu3vsmDLxH4B2PGsK3y5gd6bxwptYbXEQCTgeM9whwxm7WAbjG9C2vrHlxspffAIAs0Ja2/s1600/P1020036.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGrHbUC72vEpU3QWBgnyL0cblxtvmPYUBLDqC_7hY5D0xoHyRxS3zmN3hQG_P5uZM7kXqIVtLu3vsmDLxH4B2PGsK3y5gd6bxwptYbXEQCTgeM9whwxm7WAbjG9C2vrHlxspffAIAs0Ja2/s320/P1020036.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
I then passed through a similar but smarter hamlet of Newingreen before entering Lympne (1015 -1.3 miles) which is larger, but in terms of buildings is a mixture of the ultra-modern, the olde English traditional and virtually all styles in between. Past Shepway Cross, a war memorial erected in 1923 on a site where the Court of the Cinque Ports met, down a hill and I had reached West Hythe (1030 - 2.1 miles) and the Royal Military Canal.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmlB5T9aoPJ97ZHa9Tqitz8k1oWEQd2eJeWe3ob2fJdpCGRWpu3lk_ZP0iU6bdClkPXLPg_GNh7WfVZR5dVe8igzgixVU6QP9hpl7mdKFtFljH5C-vjS1EOA7RXa8MHnNaTuGgH3QJgaRi/s1600/P1020037.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgmlB5T9aoPJ97ZHa9Tqitz8k1oWEQd2eJeWe3ob2fJdpCGRWpu3lk_ZP0iU6bdClkPXLPg_GNh7WfVZR5dVe8igzgixVU6QP9hpl7mdKFtFljH5C-vjS1EOA7RXa8MHnNaTuGgH3QJgaRi/s320/P1020037.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
<a href="http://www.royalmilitarycanal.com/">The Royal Military Canal</a> was built between 1804 and 1809 as a defence against the threatened invasion by Napoleon. This threat evaporated when the French Fleet was destroyed at Trafalgar, but governments being what they are, the work was completed at a cost of £234,000 (about £8 million) in today's money. It is 28 miles long and runs between west of Hastings to just east of Folkestone. It is the third longest defence work in the UK after Hadrian's Wall and Offa's Dyke.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZm993rWFSNe0AS4zn21wX45Q2OZtT5zV0-X01xB929jOFs4cX5JqWk-rq0zfKa99AHUPJjo4vUKMUS5h0QnGF_bpW0UFkOiQp4RA6q5YBdKDCKSUSN_59U_dXzJVvZMWy599Br4aghD-/s1600/P1020038.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibZm993rWFSNe0AS4zn21wX45Q2OZtT5zV0-X01xB929jOFs4cX5JqWk-rq0zfKa99AHUPJjo4vUKMUS5h0QnGF_bpW0UFkOiQp4RA6q5YBdKDCKSUSN_59U_dXzJVvZMWy599Br4aghD-/s320/P1020038.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The canal today is in surprisingly good repair and makes an attractive place to walk and sanctuary for wildlife. At Romney Marsh, it is also very valuable for drainage and irrigation. Recreation, however, is the currently main raison d'etre for this waterway. During my walk, I met numerous people of all aged hiking, walking their dogs, jogging or cycling along the road / track that ran alongside the canal. Despite the close presence of housing developments as I approached Hythe, the canal maintained a feeling of rural calm throughout its length.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZmHHQuQy12zVTcG0OtHABMpXD2OvgKVbzN45h5Niy-F4fMm8m_j3ydu7fp24ysNNagLcyrQdUiKYDa4IXqFCBQSXag50u1EU65sdNcEdM3bRqzytQW4CWk58pBU5TgPAWIlj5znzlNfu/s1600/P1020040.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHZmHHQuQy12zVTcG0OtHABMpXD2OvgKVbzN45h5Niy-F4fMm8m_j3ydu7fp24ysNNagLcyrQdUiKYDa4IXqFCBQSXag50u1EU65sdNcEdM3bRqzytQW4CWk58pBU5TgPAWIlj5znzlNfu/s320/P1020040.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
All of a sudden I was in Hythe (1135 - 4.8 miles). At the bridge, I parted company with the canal and crossed the water, having decided to follow the seafront for the remainder of my walk. This option was not available earlier as the way was barred by the Hythe Firing Ranges from whence several loud reports had punctuated my journey.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6kWt4HQbhvtb0v4JmJ2fdhI-sEpof6iMrCFwXaAIs8dMLGMPVGhRDOhdg_tdyxmF0JjJowmKbl4GuLkopL0X5vE1cTEA8JoSyqJ4k6hNm_SHzg2StAZN0rorEQM1CrCFb9UsZvzbcVRe/s1600/P1020042.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgu6kWt4HQbhvtb0v4JmJ2fdhI-sEpof6iMrCFwXaAIs8dMLGMPVGhRDOhdg_tdyxmF0JjJowmKbl4GuLkopL0X5vE1cTEA8JoSyqJ4k6hNm_SHzg2StAZN0rorEQM1CrCFb9UsZvzbcVRe/s320/P1020042.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
Hythe is a mixture of the old and new, the smart and the downright scruffy and the interesting and the depressingly boring. Viewed from the central parkland area, Hythe Church is a beautiful, solid, old stone pile, but the view is cluttered with very ordinary houses from the pre and post war period. walking further towards the seafront past a depressing row of terraced houses, I came across a house that could easily have been plucked from the New (or even Black) Forest.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiusvTEGHbja7y-sEnLVb3Sv-3NfKiBIxvsq9T6vcD-GMhPbyK5m6eweWG5tILSP7czbUReZCELssr8YUuOBlfhFj0Ii_qw4qX8Bxjpu9-t7ZLdnTMYjF1VcoZTyiqDRV7C2bRX0PnqwQz/s1600/P1020043.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiusvTEGHbja7y-sEnLVb3Sv-3NfKiBIxvsq9T6vcD-GMhPbyK5m6eweWG5tILSP7czbUReZCELssr8YUuOBlfhFj0Ii_qw4qX8Bxjpu9-t7ZLdnTMYjF1VcoZTyiqDRV7C2bRX0PnqwQz/s320/P1020043.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
A few paces onto the seafront and there were two Martello Towers virtually on the beach surrounded by fishing boats and associated tackle. Around the corner was yet another Martello Tower. This one, however had been converted into a smart, somewhat futuristic residence.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxiX38-s9E1fI0ZJlaoVprQPf3z4IP9jLxQKredztPsJI_k5QH7YYlPSQM_6ie_T-ezwIkgPeMdK1AAHivH9jGfxLZiTNgceOYN-xa4MUoBPOAaqBO_0J3iVzCHiWe_FhNpEoHqCig8HS/s1600/P1020045.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYxiX38-s9E1fI0ZJlaoVprQPf3z4IP9jLxQKredztPsJI_k5QH7YYlPSQM_6ie_T-ezwIkgPeMdK1AAHivH9jGfxLZiTNgceOYN-xa4MUoBPOAaqBO_0J3iVzCHiWe_FhNpEoHqCig8HS/s320/P1020045.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
A little further on, was a Victorian terrace of originally identical houses with canopied balconies on the first floor. This is a prime example of how individual owners of such properties can "improve" their properties without any thought for the visual integrity of whole terrace. Nearby was the Imperial Hotel, immaculate as ever, looking very smart in Battleship grey paint. I preferred the cream paint job that I saw in 2009!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4IAAPawt2zg/T3xkkCJP_-I/AAAAAAAAJvI/5VMZeLhp2ZM/s1600/P1020048.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-4IAAPawt2zg/T3xkkCJP_-I/AAAAAAAAJvI/5VMZeLhp2ZM/s320/P1020048.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
By now, I was feeling somewhat peckish. My usual habit is to bring sandwiches with me, but I thought that there would be no difficulty in finding something on this walk through a well populated area. I came across a rather squalid promenade-side cafe selling outrageously expensive sandwiches, so pressed on in the hope for better fare. In a short period of time I found a van selling crepes. I chatted to the young man from Slovakia who was the proprietor of the establishment while my Roquefort crepe was being prepared. I parted with £2 and was on my way eating my hot and extremely strong tasting snack - perhaps I would have been better of with the sandwich!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8N6zhx2z1qk/T3xknyRB7iI/AAAAAAAAJvY/HIMbaE-uwxo/s1600/P1020051.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8N6zhx2z1qk/T3xknyRB7iI/AAAAAAAAJvY/HIMbaE-uwxo/s320/P1020051.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
As I walked, there were nice views towards Seabrook and the Downs beyond. It was also here that the Royal Military Canal came to an abrupt end as the cliffs were rising at Sandgate (1235 - 7.5 miles). Near Storncliffe Camp is a monument to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Moore_(British_Army_officer)">Sir John Moore</a>, a great innovator in military training who had a distinguished career and died in 1809 at the Battle of Corunna.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-UTN32kxV1VvLYE5ck_lio01hjLg0lPR8l6qgd7vMMnpwD8sXY3fQvh0g4kMKpjHxCRODINtTuIZmRmMYWDRfgBtVs1bRcm_Vrsgr5sivKyl9Y5BgsTRjB90gEVh7kAYfkG4KV4NNMriN/s1600/P1020054.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-UTN32kxV1VvLYE5ck_lio01hjLg0lPR8l6qgd7vMMnpwD8sXY3fQvh0g4kMKpjHxCRODINtTuIZmRmMYWDRfgBtVs1bRcm_Vrsgr5sivKyl9Y5BgsTRjB90gEVh7kAYfkG4KV4NNMriN/s320/P1020054.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The town of Sandgate, rather like Hythe, was sometimes classy and at others, unkempt. The main point of interest here are the remains of Sandgate Castle, built by Henry VIII, which resembled a prototype Martello Tower. Queen Elizabeth I rested there according to the sign, but how they managed get some rest in what appears to be a small and unprepossessing building is beyond me! Victoria and Albert were more sensible and passed through as day trippers.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cFU6lzOKpdI/T3xkyAxG9qI/AAAAAAAAJwA/KW-04VTFuB0/s1600/P1020056.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-cFU6lzOKpdI/T3xkyAxG9qI/AAAAAAAAJwA/KW-04VTFuB0/s320/P1020056.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Onward along the low promenade past garishly painted chalets and seabirds feeding at low tide amongst the rocks at Mill Point, then round the point and onwards to Folkestone Harbour (1340 - 9.6 miles), the end point of the walk. The harbour contained a few fishing boats and the installations for the cross-channel rail traffic appeared complete albeit in poor repair.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6YKnwEnv46cqeWaUxZrChnw9PNLkT3b_odbnM9rq_0tFYDGePYUfoMxeQmheq88g8gvDgiHFh7IieEh6TkTliteLRFkzC4jBZ4au_Z28mhCzysSSRxc0ckpsmDpy_Ehy1Q9oYOy5q7f1/s1600/P1020064.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiL6YKnwEnv46cqeWaUxZrChnw9PNLkT3b_odbnM9rq_0tFYDGePYUfoMxeQmheq88g8gvDgiHFh7IieEh6TkTliteLRFkzC4jBZ4au_Z28mhCzysSSRxc0ckpsmDpy_Ehy1Q9oYOy5q7f1/s320/P1020064.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
The town of Folkestone near the harbour contains many attractive narrow streets, relatively unspoiled by modern development. Despite good forecast, a few drops of rain started falling, so I made my way to the local Wetherspoon pub for some refreshment. This visit became a treat in more than one way upon discovering that the establishment was situated in a rather fine Baptist chapel sumptuously fitted out in high quality wood and complete complete with gallery and organ pipes.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WS1MjzYeRNE/T3xlMGRa8XI/AAAAAAAAJxw/izKi59RnQ_Q/s1600/P1020070.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-WS1MjzYeRNE/T3xlMGRa8XI/AAAAAAAAJxw/izKi59RnQ_Q/s320/P1020070.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Thus, suitably sustained, I had plenty of time to explore some of the upper town which retains most of its Victorian charm and solidity. A group of children were putting on a great "Sound of Music" show and a walk along the grassy Leas at the top of the cliff yielded some excellent views and was somewhat bracing in the evening breeze.</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2q9eZEH2FFQZcZs1lrlyuFCpXSN2Nm58GG7S50or8dg_4qjOb3ceuSsowsolrIvO2-MJ0FdaVyH7yfOlTgHETMl5dC5y1-WWALzNGdRDpBbrEtDW1mqWXBeRcf2J92-9B9egxFQoUh6Vm/s1600/P1020074.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2q9eZEH2FFQZcZs1lrlyuFCpXSN2Nm58GG7S50or8dg_4qjOb3ceuSsowsolrIvO2-MJ0FdaVyH7yfOlTgHETMl5dC5y1-WWALzNGdRDpBbrEtDW1mqWXBeRcf2J92-9B9egxFQoUh6Vm/s320/P1020074.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Then, briskly to Folkestone Station and the fast train into St Pancras. There was time to explore the new booking hall at Kings Cross and for a wander around North London before catching the 1943 from Euston, arriving at Birmingham International at 2100, then home for supper. All in all, an excellent day out!</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/WestenhangerToFolkestone" target="_blank">See the pictures</a></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<br /></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Next trips</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">In Cumbria - Hycemoor to Green Road via Millom - Saturday 28 April</span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Again in Cumbria - Green Road to Barrow in Furness - Sarurday 26 May</span></div>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-69235891807263583502012-03-20T03:17:00.001-07:002012-03-20T03:17:50.473-07:00Seaham to Fulwell - 10 March 2012 - 10 miles on foot<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/SeahamToSunderland">See the pictures</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The sun was already rising over Tamworth on what promised to be a lovely day as I waited to board the 0646 train to Newcastle. Having thought about my activities during the winter close season, I had decided that I would retire the bike as far as possible and continue my journey around the coast of England on foot. So, instead of a 20 mile ride from Seaham to South Shields, this trip became a 10 mile walk from Seaham to the north of Sunderland at Fulwell.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1ERODAalzSV-7NB1P1k7HoTGMQL4c_ac9KVjMl7WmEcG_d0S0FoPpp2hWutaCiLxuwaMjcjd3dkOlZcjB1mFq8u61ENtaV20Ivt92dKMljJiUo6wwVIYfq_exZmUbuKJaPiJVtSOuEAz/s1600/P1010945.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjP1ERODAalzSV-7NB1P1k7HoTGMQL4c_ac9KVjMl7WmEcG_d0S0FoPpp2hWutaCiLxuwaMjcjd3dkOlZcjB1mFq8u61ENtaV20Ivt92dKMljJiUo6wwVIYfq_exZmUbuKJaPiJVtSOuEAz/s320/P1010945.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The train arrived at 0646, as scheduled, and I was quickly on my way north via Chesterfield, Doncaster and York, arriving a fraction late into Newcastle at 0955. No matter, I had half an hour to wait for my connection, so I enjoyed a sandwich on the draughty platform before joining the 1030 train to Seaham via Sunderland. On arrival at 1058, the day was fine and cool, so I walked briskly to the seafront and turned left along the promenade. The white high-rise buildings of Sunderland were in the background, while a number of people were exploring the rock pools exposed by the tide below the shingle beach.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWu5XQuanMu15x54yajld3zsd9eCV3Gx1Da1YxdjGTrlo99FgUHowafJB7mh48lkFu4d2XMpSr2l0hofxUQgd51BrGAYt09wUPsEmHX0XoxogEptiMcJ-be2g8BQub-quKGDgKnBK-mxsV/s1600/P1010950.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWu5XQuanMu15x54yajld3zsd9eCV3Gx1Da1YxdjGTrlo99FgUHowafJB7mh48lkFu4d2XMpSr2l0hofxUQgd51BrGAYt09wUPsEmHX0XoxogEptiMcJ-be2g8BQub-quKGDgKnBK-mxsV/s320/P1010950.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The promenade come to an abrupt end and I had to climb the low cliffs near to Seaham Hall and continue along the cliff-top track through rough grassland, with occasional detours around steep valleys cut by local streams. Higher up on the cliff, the wind became much more noticable and slowed my progress to some extent. I passed a number of interesting coastal rock formations including the romantically named "Pincushion".</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aqVGg8juLu9bXRU8wUltoCZMQPeFpNsOEMmiN7Wd73ieCExoo9azX2Mbqpj_fNdKfy6ISYf9esOZ2d-M38ta2wC9hyphenhyphen-YtA8lhNNvPltkcCE4rAoc_PIPCAH2z74YFDfFiZ7AdY-Ijmnh/s1600/P1010958.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9aqVGg8juLu9bXRU8wUltoCZMQPeFpNsOEMmiN7Wd73ieCExoo9azX2Mbqpj_fNdKfy6ISYf9esOZ2d-M38ta2wC9hyphenhyphen-YtA8lhNNvPltkcCE4rAoc_PIPCAH2z74YFDfFiZ7AdY-Ijmnh/s320/P1010958.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">At Ryhope (3.5 miles - 1215) I passed a railway bridge with the inscription LS&SR. Later research revealed this as the Londonderry, Seaham and Sunderland Railway! Soon, I was closing in on Sunderland and descended onto the South Promenade which was sporting brand new blue painted railings. The Southern Docks was a forbidding place - The high fence and razer wire dictated a detour along the main road then through a semi-derelict industrial area.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAIlpGUcDZCyEJCXzcnsvox1ItzTkqjcD_EJK_CFzJ3HlvuD7fWf3T3bZ-JTLffVA3Cj2agsifDulj8NPT21mZ5V6iUB_Pjg8zywhZNTIi9URAvt9V33yh8HnYv5oDXlDGCUFvEAoWnefT/s1600/P1010963.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAIlpGUcDZCyEJCXzcnsvox1ItzTkqjcD_EJK_CFzJ3HlvuD7fWf3T3bZ-JTLffVA3Cj2agsifDulj8NPT21mZ5V6iUB_Pjg8zywhZNTIi9URAvt9V33yh8HnYv5oDXlDGCUFvEAoWnefT/s320/P1010963.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">I had carried out some research on Sunderland before my trip and discovered that very little of historical interest remained in the city. Much, including the Town Hall and the 1769 St John's Chapel had been demolished in the post-war era, to be replaced with non-descript substitutes or, in the case of the latter, a pile of rubble. I therefore kept as close as I could to the shoreline and estuary, finding a some interesting survivals such as Bull Lane and a number of warehouses converted into apartments.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SWXAb3qAawmPnfjyM4RJFXi1sehA6PY0PS5J25h2vzJ8ap4gvfPXNY5-17TFI6cEv72a3MPlowaowuaq3DKFF2wWSjarAW6Jmodi4nxMmmE3vSLZWUOEN_pRlTOGR_j5GVE8qXMm7lEv/s1600/P1010974.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3SWXAb3qAawmPnfjyM4RJFXi1sehA6PY0PS5J25h2vzJ8ap4gvfPXNY5-17TFI6cEv72a3MPlowaowuaq3DKFF2wWSjarAW6Jmodi4nxMmmE3vSLZWUOEN_pRlTOGR_j5GVE8qXMm7lEv/s320/P1010974.JPG" width="240" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">One remaining monument is the imposing Wearmouth Bridge which I crossed at 1345 (7 Miles). The bridge was originally built in 1798 but replaced at 60 to 70 year intervals in 1857 and 1927. By my calculation, the bridge is now overdue for replacement. Lets hope the powers that be retain something of the iconic design!</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYZhg0_Gq_ISx1AUNk5kbmkBSF_wCsgoagvK_lQxK5FKxiG05cJDgzKM5cLUQWhhyfWXm-CVTTc0Myz042zkBQr1l2bzQSJwbD6r9KkBFk3uyJa0PaL3cpgsUWwDz_w2mireLPPO3HeJy/s1600/P1010973.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnYZhg0_Gq_ISx1AUNk5kbmkBSF_wCsgoagvK_lQxK5FKxiG05cJDgzKM5cLUQWhhyfWXm-CVTTc0Myz042zkBQr1l2bzQSJwbD6r9KkBFk3uyJa0PaL3cpgsUWwDz_w2mireLPPO3HeJy/s320/P1010973.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The north bank of the Wear has been completely redeveloped, largely to accommodate the University of Sunderland. I don't know what was there before, but the dockside parkland with modern sculptures made an attractive walk through to the recent marina development at Roker. From there it was a pleasant promenade stroll to the lighthouse at Fulwell where the coastal part of my day out ended..</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hmIqbDbs6rE/T14nzww2G8I/AAAAAAAAJXg/5DeI7bd_FOo/s1600/P1010988.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hmIqbDbs6rE/T14nzww2G8I/AAAAAAAAJXg/5DeI7bd_FOo/s320/P1010988.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">There remained a short walk through Fulwell to Seaburn which boasts a working windmill. The journey from the metro station into Newcastle proved eventful as the ticket machines on my platform were not working. Trekking over to the opposite platform revealed that the machines only take coins and I did not have sufficient change! A walk back into Seaburn rectified the matter and I was then on my way back into Newcstle.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">A couple of pints with an old school friend at the Union and I was on my way courtesy of the 1835 train to Tamworth via Derby.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/SeahamToSunderland">See the pictures</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">Next Walks</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">31 March - Kent - Westenhanger to Folkestone</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #990000; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;">28 April - Cumbria - Bootle (Hycemoor) to Millom</span>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-88986214511921599812011-12-02T12:51:00.003-08:002012-03-20T09:40:27.913-07:00Amble (Alnmouth) to Newbiggin - 15 October 2011<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/AlnmouthToNewbiggin">See the pictures</a></span><br />
<br />
It was very cold, dark and misty on Tamworth Station as I awaited the 0612 train that would take me directly to Alnmouth, a journey of almost 4 hours. Mercifully, the train was on time and I, with a few other cold mortals embarked and we set off towards the North. It was destined to be a fine day and, within half an hour, the skies began to lighten and the mist slowly lifted over the meadows as the cattle began their daily task of keeping the grass short. Very soon after, the Sun rose and the remainder of the journey was uneventful before I arrive on time at Alnmouth at 1000.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6m4OVffHoOPp4F9ZoSIiVOWLXSBCOwyNwEbu6YNB1lum1p0x3AGpWD3tGUvs3EuaGp1k7x_PW-YjCC38eb2qaKg9fZz9PppmcOBjkW0_Y09MmIyXj3us6HpJxDOn6LiE4FAcq2af_rzUT/s1600/DSCF5173.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6m4OVffHoOPp4F9ZoSIiVOWLXSBCOwyNwEbu6YNB1lum1p0x3AGpWD3tGUvs3EuaGp1k7x_PW-YjCC38eb2qaKg9fZz9PppmcOBjkW0_Y09MmIyXj3us6HpJxDOn6LiE4FAcq2af_rzUT/s320/DSCF5173.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The original plan was to take the bus to Amble since I had walked this first part of the journey in 2008, but there was a long wait for the bus and it was a shame to miss travelling outdoors on such a pleasant day. I therefore assembled the bike and set out along the cycle path which followed the A1068. The cycle / footpath was well separated from the vehicles by a hedge and the route afforded excellent views over the picturesque town of Alnmouth and, the sand dunes which stretched between Alnmouth and Warkworth (1040 - 3 Miles) with its castle and ancient stone bridge.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OBgkmq3SKd8/T2iv7JUnXPI/AAAAAAAAJZA/Q6om9-Q1jaA/s1600/DSCF5176.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-OBgkmq3SKd8/T2iv7JUnXPI/AAAAAAAAJZA/Q6om9-Q1jaA/s320/DSCF5176.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
A short climb up the unspoilt Bridge Street and Castle Street soon brought me alongside the River Coquet which splashed over a weir on its way to Amble and the Sea (1055 - 6 Miles). The harbour at Amble provided the most attractive setting for a car boot sale I have ever seen. The locals appeared to be buying avidly but, to my eyes, the goods on sale were little better than trash!<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqGNcBG23DK0W5GNBIRIJ0xiGJQraDmoPyGrtIKTDMIkwrU8lIvaIutj-QasJRNZq0hMdfIhQDDgxUkrpwhLTl6zJbhV9iGnim8eHHt59EHnrt6-OXrvan5kPPmgXtPFoc4Psd96W87c9Y/s1600/DSCF5177.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqGNcBG23DK0W5GNBIRIJ0xiGJQraDmoPyGrtIKTDMIkwrU8lIvaIutj-QasJRNZq0hMdfIhQDDgxUkrpwhLTl6zJbhV9iGnim8eHHt59EHnrt6-OXrvan5kPPmgXtPFoc4Psd96W87c9Y/s320/DSCF5177.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
On my way out of Amble, I passed an oddity in the form of an isolated spire in the grounds of Amble Cemetary East. In 1878, the spire linked two chapels which were described as "amongst the best specimens of architecture in the town". As if to forestall any centenary celebrations, the chapels were demolished in 1971, leaving the lonely spire.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3g1dwqoIRM0o7_ZeTXxQaNhI94JtQZZ0Z7TiYZJCjSudVJugic4T0lEyBHZ0t2GkSUSbgCayVml02mrOEIjVE6t0um-k6T3OHAVsoQFf5rWGb4PTdcTHil-ow9Pm0JK75_4YRXb37RyhW/s1600/DSCF5179.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3g1dwqoIRM0o7_ZeTXxQaNhI94JtQZZ0Z7TiYZJCjSudVJugic4T0lEyBHZ0t2GkSUSbgCayVml02mrOEIjVE6t0um-k6T3OHAVsoQFf5rWGb4PTdcTHil-ow9Pm0JK75_4YRXb37RyhW/s320/DSCF5179.JPG" width="240" /></a></div>
<br />
Onward along a minor road and past dunes with a view towards Coquet Island and its lighthouse to Lower Hauxley which was once a fishing village. The cottages are grouped together in square formation and once would have presented a pleasing, integrated aspect. Unfortunately, the fishermen have left and they have become holiday properties which have been "improved" with no consideration for their position or history.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I7eQ_n3g0TI/T2iwH_SE9mI/AAAAAAAAJZs/X5Ko9N8Gq3k/s1600/DSCF5182.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-I7eQ_n3g0TI/T2iwH_SE9mI/AAAAAAAAJZs/X5Ko9N8Gq3k/s320/DSCF5182.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The track continued with the sea on my left and lakes, the results of opencast workings, on my right. The countryside on this part of the ride has been beautifully restored to such a degree that it is virtually impossible to imagine the industrial activity that must have scarred the landscape in times past. Quite a large number of people were in this area, taking advantage of a sunny autumn weekend.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-hbvLbYHydPrjOpEZOdxt4ezBMDYxIcC1c9hwEjHeWKc3ffucr2u23YsNcHf_aT3R7nu0hZvIkx6fWU1kskVjqk15fr-YyhfDpHlcCjGyS77RK6A1yYARKyOoAyUb1B8MX3Pu2gVdXY2/s1600/DSCF5186.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEit-hbvLbYHydPrjOpEZOdxt4ezBMDYxIcC1c9hwEjHeWKc3ffucr2u23YsNcHf_aT3R7nu0hZvIkx6fWU1kskVjqk15fr-YyhfDpHlcCjGyS77RK6A1yYARKyOoAyUb1B8MX3Pu2gVdXY2/s320/DSCF5186.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Hadston Carrs (1125 - 9 Miles) was little more than a shelf of rocks in the sea. The route continued close to the sea, alternating between dirt track and metalled road. The way was punctuated by the occasional farm building, ruin and, of course man made lakes until Drurudge (1210 - 12.5 Miles) again, a farm and a few buildings.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OKFsnwd15N4/T2iwZod2JbI/AAAAAAAAJak/RZL41XAYCSA/s1600/DSCF5189.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-OKFsnwd15N4/T2iwZod2JbI/AAAAAAAAJak/RZL41XAYCSA/s320/DSCF5189.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Cresswell (1230 - 14.5 Miles) was an unpretentious place, a real community with its own school and shop. I enjoyed a sandwich while overlooking Druridge Bay from the low cliffs. A number of families were our enjoying themselves.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CH0iTWP4ChI/T2iwfwS-AoI/AAAAAAAAJbA/xgaRWmUbebI/s1600/DSCF5192.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-CH0iTWP4ChI/T2iwfwS-AoI/AAAAAAAAJbA/xgaRWmUbebI/s320/DSCF5192.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
By now, the shape of the aluminium smelter at Lynemouth was looming into view and, over a mere two miles, the route became more industrialised as I approached the town itself (1300 - 17 Miles). Lynemouth is about 100 years old and sturdily built from dark red brick - Typical industrial town of the period - Built to last.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFgt3lvlSFEDrjTf76hDZVHsYBV2F9CWIdTok98r-9OlFMCn59J7WJ9IWIo2O5OIpt4I1_tqbI7atAJ1SPFBxkNpieki8sXAFIAn6oJOeVFqRpkRk3tCBcl_cZfeIEkD_k_NKvbchZigl/s1600/DSCF5194.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtFgt3lvlSFEDrjTf76hDZVHsYBV2F9CWIdTok98r-9OlFMCn59J7WJ9IWIo2O5OIpt4I1_tqbI7atAJ1SPFBxkNpieki8sXAFIAn6oJOeVFqRpkRk3tCBcl_cZfeIEkD_k_NKvbchZigl/s320/DSCF5194.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
Newbiggin beckoned and I skirted the smelter, hidden by trees and reached the seafront ay Newbiggin-by-the-Sea (1330 - 19.5 Miles). I finished off my sandwiches and took a little ride around the once attractive, now delapidated town. Newbiggin occupies a small bay and features a church with spire that guards the town from seaborne invasion. A more recent feature is the statue of a boy and girl who stand on a platform in the bay. They are watched by identical, but smaller figured from the promenade. In my opinion, this represents one of the best attempts at modern sculpture.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QtWNm0pxmpI/T2iwk_vgjbI/AAAAAAAAJbU/n7dH0-Gk0CQ/s1600/DSCF5195.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QtWNm0pxmpI/T2iwk_vgjbI/AAAAAAAAJbU/n7dH0-Gk0CQ/s320/DSCF5195.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
The Arriva bus eventually emerged up the road and whisked me off to Morpeth, an old town clumsily modernised. A meal and a pint at Wetherspoons put me into the right humour for the ride to the station and the train journey back to Tamworth.<br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/AlnmouthToNewbiggin">See the pictures</a></span>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4718674110322638562.post-27429224757996840392011-12-02T12:51:00.001-08:002012-03-21T09:19:19.318-07:00Billingham to Seaham - 1 October 2011<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/BillinghamToSeaham">See the pictures</a></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">An
early start and a drive to Tamworth Station was necessary to catch
the 0646 train to York. As the journey progressed, the dawn came and
mists rose from the meadows. The cows began to stir and started
their own process of converting grass into milk and beef.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The
train was on time and I had time to buy a paper before boarding the
0926 to Thornaby. Whilst I was waiting for my connection, I took the
time to survey the scene of an unsuccessful job interview I had there
in the 1960's. The place had changed almost completely from a brick
built, turn of the (20<sup>th</sup>) Century industrial site to
corrugated modern industrial building which resembled a very large
retail park. The depressing scene suggested to me that I was
fortunate not to be offered that job!</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Along
came my connection at 1037, a Northern Rail “Pacer” multiple unit
which provided uncomfortable transport for the 13 miles to
Billingham. I had thought of cycling the short distance – it might
have been a good idea!</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Billingham</b>
(1100) had nothing to commend it on my visit in 2008 and, on emerging
from the other side of town on my bike, I didn't change my opinion.
Fortunately, the transition from drab housing estate to countryside
was rapid and I soon found myself speeding along Cycleway 14.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jdL59l4ZhSo/T2n9IluOQOI/AAAAAAAAJck/OJGpgmvAqJc/s1600/DSCF5144.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jdL59l4ZhSo/T2n9IluOQOI/AAAAAAAAJck/OJGpgmvAqJc/s320/DSCF5144.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Greatham</b>
Church tower eventually came into view, rising above the trees in the
distance. The village of Greatham was an attractive, unspoiled
village, quiet now, following the building of a bypass.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjC0Z1XC88wDfGbrI1TVDPzLqpMk2LxHLlaaQH65Yle_lOMJnLMT0BNPa3g-sDvjw95_qH4Y0uO1xWMTvygXoEpLov3-Kxj0rwT6ZPgkag8Go0NyUcYvW_3sHWfQ5lRFG5vSMqFpg61sSO/s1600/DSCF5146.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjC0Z1XC88wDfGbrI1TVDPzLqpMk2LxHLlaaQH65Yle_lOMJnLMT0BNPa3g-sDvjw95_qH4Y0uO1xWMTvygXoEpLov3-Kxj0rwT6ZPgkag8Go0NyUcYvW_3sHWfQ5lRFG5vSMqFpg61sSO/s320/DSCF5146.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Seaton
Carew</b> (1200 – 6 Miles) with its estates average post-war houses
seemed to go on for ever. It could have been almost anywhere in the
UK. Things changed when I reached the seafront and found an elegant
but fading resort with miles of golden sands. The only blot on the
horizon was the threatening outline of the steelworks towards Redcar.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ie7AjXhkIis/T2n9OpXOZ3I/AAAAAAAAJdM/CSJ__3qpaKg/s1600/DSCF5149.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-ie7AjXhkIis/T2n9OpXOZ3I/AAAAAAAAJdM/CSJ__3qpaKg/s320/DSCF5149.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Hartlepool</b>
(1220 – 10 Miles) was reached following a ride along the seafront
promenade, dodging jaywalkers along the combined walkway and cycle
track. As I rode, the sand became noticeably blacker and blacker.
As I entered Hartlepool, I came across two men scraping the black
stuff from the beach and loading it into a Land Rover they were
unforthcoming about what they were doing, so I didn't question them
closely, made my excuses and left.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJyiqlxZu-Skxh2wB3nZpFBGBv5CRV3WNkHlG_Ha-jt-c5-O2TTcO9PrfNJ9hRNIXYl4ORE_onfRQSs2AmL9vvGsER6qTbReIOywG8UOxt9aQfImxtuTvCVIlU7zRJ-dRuxosFYYpZm9E/s1600/DSCF5153.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdJyiqlxZu-Skxh2wB3nZpFBGBv5CRV3WNkHlG_Ha-jt-c5-O2TTcO9PrfNJ9hRNIXYl4ORE_onfRQSs2AmL9vvGsER6qTbReIOywG8UOxt9aQfImxtuTvCVIlU7zRJ-dRuxosFYYpZm9E/s320/DSCF5153.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Hartlepool
is a town that makes efforts with its appearance. There are a number
of fine buildings in the centre (Relics of past prosperity) and much
is being done to transform the old coal docks into a visitor
attraction. The main exhibit at the Maritime Museum was the paddle
steamer “Wingfield Castle” which I remember used to carry
passengers and cars between New Holland and Hull before the Humber
Bridge was built. It appears in far better condition than one of its
sister ships, “Tattershall Castle”, now a gutted hulk converted
into an embankment-side cafe in London.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UbCjdLApD9LeXUXTIZdTnpDeZJh6D_ILKYomd_T_y4ex3jxZ-ZS5gihG9AuxD5e7j_U5X7Vj_rqeF-bKsxJcNzk4fI5Ozy1vczr57CiRC7h5912uqFecgkmChyphenhyphenmKOaqyXDd-8jK9XFPN/s1600/DSCF5154.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8UbCjdLApD9LeXUXTIZdTnpDeZJh6D_ILKYomd_T_y4ex3jxZ-ZS5gihG9AuxD5e7j_U5X7Vj_rqeF-bKsxJcNzk4fI5Ozy1vczr57CiRC7h5912uqFecgkmChyphenhyphenmKOaqyXDd-8jK9XFPN/s320/DSCF5154.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">The
journey out of Hartlepool seemed endless, but soon I reached the
start of the Haswell Walkway which also served as a cycle path which
looped round to Seaham. Instead of following this route, I took the
coast road which passed through some of Durham's mining villages.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rRwhQgmYJwY/T2n9Wg5fX-I/AAAAAAAAJd8/Xf3sp7DpjsQ/s1600/DSCF5156.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-rRwhQgmYJwY/T2n9Wg5fX-I/AAAAAAAAJd8/Xf3sp7DpjsQ/s320/DSCF5156.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Blackhall</b>
(1320 – 14 Miles) was reached after negotiating an unduating road
with occasional glimpses of a coastline still recovery from its
recent mining history. The village comprises two or three street of
mining terraces, a pub and a few shops lining the coast road. Some
tidying up, particularly with the shops and the place would look
quite attractive.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VZ_44dAAKUU/T2n9X3rTQpI/AAAAAAAAJeE/yphpTn7R1dM/s1600/DSCF5157.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VZ_44dAAKUU/T2n9X3rTQpI/AAAAAAAAJeE/yphpTn7R1dM/s320/DSCF5157.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Horden
Colliery</b> (1325 – 15 Miles) is approached through a depressing
housing estate. All that remains of the colliery are the wheels from
the winding gear which form a roadside memorial. Past the untidy
industrial area, I found myself overlooking a rambling complex of
allotments and pigeon lofts. It was hardly a hive of activity, but I
observed an elderly couple caring for their feathered friends.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dURkdRTgWQU/T2n9amNAoXI/AAAAAAAAJeU/ahl2H5AQ3cM/s1600/DSCF5159.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-dURkdRTgWQU/T2n9amNAoXI/AAAAAAAAJeU/ahl2H5AQ3cM/s320/DSCF5159.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Easington
Colliery</b> (1350 – 18 Miles) has the potential to become a
thriving coastal resort as it is set in some lovely, rolling
countryside. The buildings are solid and many have been modernised
in a sympathetic manner. The jewel in the crown of Easington is the
old Victorian village school, now sadly lying empty. With a little
imagination, the building could be transformed into an affordable
tourist hotel, rather than the social housing currently planned.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVa-RuH86xuKamXgIbnGfK2s1nK1G5zDPMn8OQYjgzPqqLcaU23ORZqsVUo1vpJfhz8DSmDOsNLxiO7hTRehENenaEWw9OZv0KTC8GsuT04T9YBA_uVZ3fBqY5CeIkyfhmMEWXpvpGjNTj/s1600/DSCF5163.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVa-RuH86xuKamXgIbnGfK2s1nK1G5zDPMn8OQYjgzPqqLcaU23ORZqsVUo1vpJfhz8DSmDOsNLxiO7hTRehENenaEWw9OZv0KTC8GsuT04T9YBA_uVZ3fBqY5CeIkyfhmMEWXpvpGjNTj/s320/DSCF5163.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Then
onwards, up and down hills and finally along a disused railway down
into............</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><b>Seaham</b>
(1440 – 25 Miles) with its impressive harbour which once was busy
with the coal export trade. The town appears to be lifting itself
out of depression and developing into a bustling seaside resort,
assisted by the presence of a sandy beach with visitors enjoying the
Autumn sunshine. Further up the coast, the outline of Sunderland was
beckoning, but it will have to wait for my next and final journey to
the North East.</span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IpPUr6R38G4/T2n9hyOaMqI/AAAAAAAAJe8/WabWQQMStbc/s1600/DSCF5165.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><img border="0" height="240" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IpPUr6R38G4/T2n9hyOaMqI/AAAAAAAAJe8/WabWQQMStbc/s320/DSCF5165.JPG" width="320" /></span></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">All
that remained was for me to make for the railway station, board the
Newcastle train, enjoy a meal and a pint at the Union Rooms and board
my train which arrived punctually at Tamworth at 2047.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif; font-size: large;"><a href="https://picasaweb.google.com/105089446648821576376/BillinghamToSeaham">See the pictures</a></span></div>Tom's Ramblingshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00739703045729642613noreply@blogger.com0