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Day 61 – Plymouth to Downerry – 10th July, 2015

Today has been a great day, although, at just over 20 miles, a bit too long. We were lucky to get here at all as yesterday there was both a tube and a rail strike and our planned train was cancelled. The only way to get here was to walk from King’s cross to Paddington, in my case, and Finsbury Park to Paddington, in Rachel’s, then make a run for the Plymouth train as soon as it was announced to try to get ahead of the two trainloads of people crammed into a single train with fewer carriages than usual. There were some very unhappy punters!

In the end, all worked out well and we got to our charming little guest house on the outskirts of Plymouth just before midnight. Following a very substantial breakfast, we took the bus into the city centre, and picked up the coast path not far from where I left it with Vicki nearly two years ago (can’t believe it is that long since I was on this side of the country!)

We walked along the Hoe, pausing to take in the enormous memorial to the fallen of the Royal Navy in both World Wars, and then past the lovely eighteenth century housing. IMG_9737There is still a very large and elegant stone barracks to admire. We caught the 11.15 Cremyll ferry across Plymouth Sound, which was full of pleasure craft as well as more serious looking boats, to Mount Edgcumbe. We stopped for a coffee in the very attractive Edgecumbe Arms pub, then followed the path though the really beautiful woodlands that fringe the estate on the seaward side, pausing to admire the view, and the multifarious follies.

Mount Edgecumbe is home to one of the biggest camellia collections in the country, but, sadly, they have all finished blooming now. The day was perfect – sunny, clear, with a light warm breeze, but not too hot. Unfortunately my pack is too heavy…I have not carried a pack for a 12 day trip, and although I have pared it down and can still fit it into 26 litres, it seemed weighty. It has been a while since either of us has done much walking – my last coast walk joint was back in February although I had a couple of days in the Lake District recently, and Rachel has dished her knee, so we took it pretty gently.IMG_9768

The sea glistened to our left as the path gently undulated through woods and on the edge of fields.

Our first landmark was the tiny chapel at Rame Head, visible for miles in both directions, and mentioned in the shanty, ‘Spanish Ladies’ as one of the places the sailors recognise on their return home. IMG_9807I had to double black to find my camera case which I had dropped, and caught Rachel up to find her listening to the Wimbledon men’s semi-final. After a short, not entirely intentional detour to the Rame Head life boat station, and a very confused scramble through a field full of brambles, the whole thing became fairly plain sailing. The path is broad, and easy at this point, and we ambled long, the silence punctuated by Rachel giving me updates from the tennis – apparently one of the best matches ever played by Federer. On one of the few narrow points, we ran into some Dartmoor ponies, who completely blocked the path, and refused to move, even when nudged by the end of Rachel’s walking pole. Eventually, we had to climb past them, hoping they wouldn’t take fright and kick.

The path led throughout the firing range at Tregantle, where we were thrilled to see a stoat actually mesmerising a small bird. We watched as the two creatures stared at each other, wondering why the bird didn’t just fly away. The stoat got closer, but I’m afraid we interfered with the course of nature by making a noise. The bird immediately came to its senses and flew off. There was nothing else to be seen at the barracks other than a rather good looking young man emptying the water out of an inflatable dinghy and pulling determinedly on the outboard. As the boat was at least half a mile from the sea, and not even on a trailer, I couldn’t really see the point of running the engine. Perhaps it was to confuse the enemy…

We thought a detour to a fish and chip shop in Port Wrinkle would be a good plan, as it was getting quite late and we were starving, but unfortunately the only café was closed. Downderry was a further 2.5 miles up the steepest slope of the day. A sudden squall meant a scramble for waterproofs – no sooner on than the sun was shining. Rachel’s knee was causing a bit of bother, so mindful of the fact that the pub might stop serving food at nine, I raced on ahead to get our orders in – not a moment too soon. We are staying at the Inn on the Shore and I am just heading to bed after an excellent supper.

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Back at last!

I have now organised my next leg – I am very far behind where I had hoped to be, but the new website http://www.tudortimes.co.uk is eating up my time.

Nevertheless, I have now fixed 12 days carrying on from Plymouth where I left off in September of 2013.  I start from Plymouth on 10th July, and plan to reach St Ives on the 21st of the month.

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Day 60 Barton-on-Humber to Hedon 16th Feb 2015

It’s not much of an exaggeration to say that Hull on a very wet Monday in February put the grim into “oop North”.

I have walked 26.7 km in fairly persistent rain, and enough mud on the last couple of miles to almost suck my boots off. Nevertheless, it has been a red letter day – I crossed the mighty Humber Bridge-a truly awe in sprinting piece of engineering: 1.5 miles long, with the tops of the 155 meter towers 36mm further apart at the top than at the base, to allow for the curvature of the earth, and a swing up to of 4 meters (yes, 12 feet) in the centre to stop it breaking up in high winds.IMG_9170

Fortunately, today was not a high wind. It was brisk enough but nothing out of the ordinary. I set foot on the bridge at around five to nine and descended at around 9.30. Sadly I had very little view down the estuary as it was so cloudy, but standing under the towers and seeing the steel work was view enough. The cables that suspend the 21,000 tonne road, plus 5,000 tonnes of traffic, are actually twists of 14,498 lengths of wire of 5mm diameter each. Laid out, each would reach almost twice around the globe – heady stuff!IMG_9168

Following that excitement, the day was a long, hard slog, mainly along roads, and through deserted docklands to arrive in the not- entirely-inspiring village of Hedon by 4pm. Reading the tourist material in my hotel room, I feel I must have walked through a very different Hull from the one they are advertising. Perhaps it’s a Sliding Doors thing – had I turned left instead of right at Dagger LaneIMG_9201 (yes, really) the whole thing might have looked quite different….

I’ve finished walking for the weekend. I shall go to Beverley tomorrow to admire the Minster.

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Day 59 Immingham to Barton on Humber 15th February 2015

Today has been a long day – 17.25 miles.

It rained heavily in the night but when I left grim B&B after a miserable breakfast of yellow cotton wool on toast, the sky was blue and the temperature very reasonable. The earliest bus I could get, being Sunday, was 9.25am. Having looked closely at the map, there was really no possibility of getting back to the sea front much before Immingham – the coast is a long line of factories and logistics plants. The bus deposited me at around 10.15 and there were a couple of miles to walk along a main road, before turning off into a lane, leading down to a public footpath, that, in theory, after a further 3/4 mile, and crossing the railway, led to the sea front.Killingholme

Aggravatingly, my map must be out of date (although I only bought it last week) as the path came to an abrupt halt at the railway with no possibility of crossing whatsoever. Even If I had been tempted to cross (I knew there were no trains on that line on Sunday, as I had considered it as alternative to the bus), there was a line of giant pipes and a very high, brand new metal fence. I could walk parallel to the railway line for a bit, but in due course, the gas pipes swung round and there was no alternative but to go back to the road, and follow it to Killingholme, which is a huge container terminal. Two enormous ships were disgorging their contents, and there was a permanent buzz of lorries and smaller vehicles with containers. Once there, the public footpath followed a narrow alley between enormous compounds full of cars. My feet were feeling a bit achey as I had now walked five or six miles on tarmac, but there was no improvement to be had for several miles, as although the path turned to face the sea, it continued as a concrete strip. At last I could see the Yorkshire side of the Humber Estuary. The sky had clouded over, and everything was hazy, but there was no mistaking the factories and chimneys on the distant bank.IMG_9107

Eventually, the hard track ended, and was replaced by a grassy bank, which carried on for several miles, turning west at last. I was looking forward to my first sight of the famous bridge, but the cloud had come down low and there was nothing to be seen. Eventually, out of the gloom, I could just about discern the suspension pier on the far bank. After that, it became clearer gradually but it was one of those faintly depressing situations where you walk and walk but the landmark never seems to get any closer….

The last five miles turned inland again, through a succession off muddy fields, with a strange mixture of rural and industrial buildings. I tried to imagine what the huge sheds could be used for, but there were no markings, no people, no goods in the yards, in fact, nothing but a sinister hum of machinery emanating from them.

Almost all of the houses in the village I passed were for sale. This did not surprise me – what did amaze me, was that anyone had bought them in the first place!

Barton on Humber is a fairly workaday town, but it does have two very interesting churches. One, St Peter’s, has an exceptionally fine stone Saxon tower, quite a rarity. St Peter's Church, Barton on HumberThe other, St Mary’s, was just a good example of English Perpendicular.

I am staying in a pub, which is nice enough, but ludicrously expensive. I suppose because it seems to be the only accommodation in the whole town.

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Day 58 – Donna Nook to Grimsby Fish Dock 14th February 2015

Today was certainly a “day of two halves”, but definitely a red letter day, as my last steps of the day completed my first 1,000 miles!

My B&B host kindly offered to take Tm and me back to my finishing point from yesterday, saving us a dull walk along the road. Marsh between Donna Nook and CleethorpesWe set off around 10.45 and walked for several hours on the edge of the salt marsh, the sea a long way out. The weather was fine, bright although not that sunny, with a moderate east wind. There were lots of birds to admire: curlews, brent geese – readying themselves to migrate north, oystercatchers and egrets. Brent Geese near Donna Nook

There were not many more people around than yesterday, although we did see a few dog walkers, including one lady with an enormous black beast the size of a bear.

Far out, we could just see the estuary, but for most of the day it was invisible. Around 3.30 we reached the outskirts of Cleethorpes, and came down to the lovely golden sands. The beach is wide and flat, with ribbons of black dust. I had picked up a shiny black stone yesterday, in the slim hope that it might be jet, but my hopes were dashed – apparently it is just shale. My learning point for today, is that jet is fossilised monkey puzzle wood from 120 million years ago!

We stopped for tea, cake, and half of the England-Italy match in Cleethorpes, then carried on toward Grimsby.

What a contrast! The whole stretch of sea front is a dreadful scene of ex-heavy industry, with the most appalling stench of dead things. Docks at CleethorpesIMG_9083Approaching Grimsby fish dock, the smell improved slightly, to fish, fish, fish. I certainly didn’t fancy having it for dinner. We found our way through the semi-derelict lots back to the main road, accompanied by the sound of roars from the football stadium. We concluded that Grimsby Town had won and, since it was Valentine’s Day, we imagined that the wives and sweethearts of Grimsby would be bracing themselves for a double celebration. The disgruntled Bristol team were being borne away in a coach, accompanied by a police escort.

I leapt on a bus back to Cleethorpes, where I am staying in a very, very functional guest house. Much of the next stretch of coast is inaccessible behind oil refineries and logistics plants so I shall take a bus to beyond Grimsby in the morning.

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Day 57 – 13th Feb 2015 – Mablethorpe to Donna Nook

I didn’t know how much I was missing the walk until I saw the sea this morning at Mablethorpe. I had a horribly early start (5am to catch three trains and a bus and had been wondering why I wasn’t tucked up in my nice warm bed) but when I saw the huge expanse of golden sand and heard the sound of the waves I felt a surge of delight. The day was very straightforward, fortunately, as I have lost all my fitness, and am really feeling the 15 miles I have done. The first couple of hours were along the flat, firmly packed sands north of Mablethrope. The weather was hazy, but dry, and eventually the sun came out.IMG_8993 I don’t think I saw more than three people the whole day – it is probably the most remote the walk has been so far. Perhaps the fact that it was a working day in February added to the solitude. Looking behind me, I could see my lone prints in the sand – I felt like Lawrence of Arabia – especially as I was wearing my attractive snood headgear. On checking my map, I saw that I was approaching a red flag zone – I wasn’t sure if it were an MOD driving range or some other danger (quick sand danced across my mind for a fleeting, unpleasant moment). I decided to skirt around the zone by moving inland. At this point there was some salt marsh, but nothing too difficult to cross. There were quite a few birds and I am sure I saw a hen-harrier – I shall have to consult the expert, Tom, when he joins me tomorrow. He’ll probably tell me it was just a gull when he sees the picture. IMG_8996 The Humber Estuary is designated as one of the top ten locations for estuary life n the whole of Europe. There are many species of both plants and birds here that are endangered elsewhere. I saw quite a few egrets, but they seem positively old hat now. Apparently there are over 100,000 water fowl here in the winter, and there is also a flourishing population of both river and sea lampreys. It turned out that the danger was an MOD firing range, there were threatening signs around and lots of ugly concrete buildings and barbed wire, with no one and nothing to be seen apart from bits of old metal. Marsh near Donna Nook At Donna Nook, I turned inland towards North Somercotes. There was a very dull 2 mile stretch down a flat straight road into the village, and it started to rain, so I was glad to each my very cosy B &B (see review). I am now in the highly recommended pub.

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Update on (lack of) progress

Contrary to what you may have thought, I haven’t been drowned off the coast of Lincolnshire.  However, I have had to put my walking plans on hold as I have been superbusy setting up a new website.

You may have noticed from my posts that I am interested in history, so, working with a colleague, we have set up a new history website at:

www.tudortimes.co.ukscreenshot pic

It’s a website devoted to Tudor and Stewart history 1485 – 1603.  Pop over and have a look, if you are interested in history.

As you can imagine, this has taken a lot of work.  However, I plan to get the walking boots back on in February – looking at the weekend of 6/7 to crack on – will post an update when confirmed.

Merry Christmas!

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Day 56 – Gibraltar Point to Skegness

I had an appointment in North Lincolnshire, so I grabbed the opportunity to come down to Skegness and finish the walk from the Bank Holiday weekend. My friend, Graham, who has heard a good deal about the walk, but so far has not taken part was, conveniently, free to come over from Nottingham, so he joined me here last night.

So, Skegness. Well, what can I say? And Skegness on a Saturday night, too! I wish I could say that we rode the roller-coaster and partied in the tasty night-clubs till dawn, but, sadly, not. We went for a very sedate drink and snack in the same hotel Rachel and I stayed in last time, but did not have the opportunity to admire the BollywoIMG_8175od antics.

This morning, I drove down to Gibraltar Point to pick up the path opposite the frustrating locked foot-bridge. For the first time since turning inland south of Hunstanton, I could actually catch a glimpse of the open sea. Not for long however, as the salt marsh has built up here into a huge nature reserve. It took the best part of an hour to reach the Clock Tower in Skegness where I had arranged to meet Graham – he declined to get up early and join me at Gibraltar Point, as, he informs me that he likes a leisurely breakfast.IMG_8187

Skegness was rather quieter in the day than it had been the night before. We walked down to the sea front, and at last I could see the ocean. The beach was golden and smooth, absolutely glorious. The weather was kind, too as we walked along the South Bracing, and then the North Bracing – I am sure the names are usually reflective of reality, but today they were not.

We divided our walking between the promenade and the sand close to the sea. The prom is hard under foot, but conducive to swift progress. The sand is slower and ruinous to boots, but pleasanter under foot when just above the water line.IMG_8206

We did not see much of any remark on our trip – there were lots of people around, children determinedly bucket-and-spading on the last day of the summer holidays. We marvelled at the terrifying rides at the funfair we passed. The roller coaster was shockingly high and steep, and I started to feel sick just watching people hanging upside down.P1060145

Sadly, many of the cafes and buildings along the front for the whole stretch to Mablethorpe are rather unattractive – concrete and corrugated iron with neon lights, garish colours and EXTREMELY LOUD MUSIC. Still, I suppose tastes differ and everything cannot be a twee tea-shop.

Sutton-on-Sea has set its face against modern development, but was not outstandingly attractive – some unusual beach huts – the roofs look rather pagoda-like in shape.P1060151

After an easy day, we arrived in Mablethorpe around 4.45pm, having done some 18 ½ miles. We were in time for fish and chips before catching the bus back to Skegness.

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Day 55 – Friskney to nowhere in particular in Lincolnshire

Today did not turn out quite as expected. We had already decided that Sutton-on-Sea was too ambitious, but Chapel St Leonards seemed a reasonable target. We took a taxi back to where we finished yesterday – actually, a little further down the road so that we could get back onto the sea wall. The scenery did not vary from yesterday with mile upon mile of marsh and, just toward the horizon, the mudflats.IMG_7974

The landscape is strangely sinister. I don’t mind walking alone, but it was good to have someone with me as, despite not seeing a soul, it felt as though we were being watched. There were no bovine incidents today and we meandered on. We came to the end of the marsh, opposite Gibraltar Point, a noted wildlife reserve. According to the map, all we needed to do was cross the dyke, now wide and deep enough for various small craft. The map showed a slipway, but it was covered in thick, deep mud for at least six feet on either side of the water way.IMG_7979

We regarded it with disfavour and consulted the map for an alternative. No problem – a few hundred yards upstream was a footbridge. We approached it in due course, a rather rickety looking metal affair. We read the signing, warning of trip dangers and proceeded down the steps to the bridge. Unfortunately, the gate on the far side was firmly padlocked. The gate itself was a good 7 feet high. Clearly previous walkers had clambered over it as the evil-looking spikes on top had been bent over.IMG_7981

“Do you think you could get over that?” asked Rachel.

“Not sure, what about you?”

“I think I could.” I will add at this point that Rachel is very much taller than me with exceptionally long legs. She could probably have stridden over it in one step.

I looked again.  “I expect I could get over it if a bull were after me, but at the moment I am not too keen.”

We consulted the map again. It wasn’t raining, but it was pretty miserable and the ground was wet underfoot, soaking Rachel’s lightweight shoes.

According to the map, there was a further crossing point some 800 yards further. We trudged along, beginning to feel grumpy. This would add at least 3 extra miles to the day. On we went, towards the farm buildings that the marked crossing led to. Of course, the route was blocked with a barbed wire fence.

Now what?

We decided that were three options: we could trespass, not appealing; go back and try climbing the gate or wade across thick mud of unknown depth. We thought that if we were sure about the existence of the crossing place that we might risk trespassing, although we didn’t fancy it, but the reliability of the map at this point had been less than a hundred per cent. As we hummed and hawed we saw a figure approaching through the field ahead.

“Great, now we are going to be shot at by an irate farmer,” we thought.

We approached the fence and explained our predicament to the farmer. Fortunately, he did not have a shot gun and was willing to let us walk through his yard if we could get over the fence. I whipped out the map and folded it over the barbs, hopping over into a field which contained a good half dozen ponies.  Up came the farmer’s wife (or sister..?) who was very friendly and told us all about the horses – gipsy cobs, apparently. She was a mine of information about the care of the sturdy little beasts. Mrs Farmer was keen to talk – she probably doesn’t see many people out in the Fens.   She was a local girl – apparently Lincolnshire folk are “yellow-bellies”. The commercialisation of Skegness obviously upset her – she was adamant that it is Skegness, not “Skeg” and definitely not “Skeggy.” The renaming of the High Street as Chip-pan Alley was clearly a sore point.

We lingered for a while to chat, then asked advice on the best way back to the sea wall. The map showed a track called New Road, which we thought might be a route leading back to Skegness, but Mrs Farmer told us it went through private land and that the owner was distinctly unfriendly. More map reviewing…. Our only option was either to walk at least 5 miles along the busy A52 or to go to Havenhouse station and get the train into Skegness. We opted for the latter…unfortunately, on Bank Holidays there are no trains so another taxi was IMG_7983required.

By now it was pouring with rain so we decided to abandon the walk and console ourselves with the best fish and chips in Skegness.

We fetched our bags from the hotel and are now on the Skegness to Grantham train which is chock full of enormous suitcases and screaming children. A fairly low level 10 miles today but a fun weekend overall – the only disappointment being that the sea has not been visible at any point.