East Yorkshire Coast Path

4^th – 8^th November 2024

Bridlington - Hull

 

Introduction

 Impatient for my next bout of the England coast path, I sought an early opportunity to return to Yorkshire. ‘October is the cruellest month’ as Elliott may have said if he had lived in Hull. The remnants of the north Atlantic hurricane season threw rain and cloud across the country and family and friends took centre stage. Early November was looking more settled so, even though the clocks were back on GMT and early sunsets came into play, a window of weather and tide schedules appeared. A quick check on accommodation, revolving round a bunk bed in a bird observatory, and I was set up for a march to the Humber and beyond. A train to Hull was booked but the uncertainties of weekend train travel persuaded me to take the car and leave it in  a centrally-based car park in the city centre. A bus to Bridlington got me to the Oakwell Guest House in Windsor Crescent for just after dark. Following the owner’s recommendation, I was soon trying some real ale in the Moon Tap in Prospect Street; Chieftain (4.0%) from Rudgate Brewery, York and Wrath of the Gods (4.5%) from Shadow Bridge Brewery, Barton-upon-Humber. I wandered down to the Stirling Castle for a meal of belly pork & black pudding with a glass of Merlot.

 

Monday 4^th November 2024             Bridlington – Hornsea

Taking to the Beach

 

The lovely owners of my guest house provided a full English breakfast and I was set up for a 9am start pausing only for a photo at the front gate. I retraced the route from the finish of last September’s walk back to the harbour then south along the promenade passed the Spa and up onto the cliff-top path. This ended abruptly in a track that descended onto the beach. A tramp along the firm wet sand looked a more attractive proposition than finding a route along the  cliffs. Progress was rapid but mind-numbing with no views inland except the brown layers of mud and, on the other side, the grey and restless North Sea,. To break the monotony, I searched for a right-of-way inland up a steep-sided stream but failed to find an obvious path, After chatting to an ex-teacher from Hull who had led a school trip to South Africa, a couple of dog walkers told me about a coffee shop in the adjacent Barmston holiday park. I ascended up the grassy cliff to find that the café was about to close for the winter and I was probably their last customer of the year.

 

Suitably refreshed, I continued on grassy paths along the top of the low cliffs to cross the Barmston Main Drain at the sluice gate, At Ulrome, I dropped down a ramp back onto the beach for a short way to avoid two separate caravan parks blocking my progress. Shinning up some muddy steps cut into the cliff face, I was able to continue along the cliffs to Skipsea. A ‘Private: Keep Out’ notice forced me inland along the edge of a ploughed field until I could break back to the cliff-edge to Far Grange Park. Here the coast path walker is definitely not welcome. Scrambling around a fence onto the golf course, the holiday park threw up an  impassible barrier. I was forced back to the main entrance where the security guy could only suggest the cycle track beside the busy main road. Spotting a trod leading back towards the coast, I found myself in another holiday park with an indoor market and was soon able to regain the cliff-top without further obstacles.

 

A trig point marked the start of a dead straight grass track into Atwick. Ignoring the next ‘Private’ sign, I pressed on through yet another holiday park and over grassy fields into the outskirts of Hornsea. The map showed a turn through a cul-de-sac back onto the coast where  descending grassland led to the prom and the Floral Cafe and a welcome bacon bap. It was too early to check in so I spent 45 minutes reading and drinking cappuccinos. At the famous town beacon, I headed inland through Hornsea town centre to locate the Hayloft b&b which was run more as an Airbnb. I was shown though the conservatory and washhouse up to a lovely bedroom. The Coast Path in East Yorkshire was far from a fait accompli, and this was just the start!

 

Bridlington dep. 09.01,  Hornsea Airbnb arr. 16.01

GPS 14.80 miles in 5hr 38mins 27secs, plus 30 min stop at Balmston and 45 mins in café on Hornsea Prom. Stayed at the Hayloft, Back Westgate, Hornsea and ate at the Victoria, Market Place, steak pie & mash then jam sponge & custard. The beer was Shropshire Gold (3.8%) from Salopian Brewery and the glass of red wine was a Shiraz.

 

 

Tuesday 5^th November 2024      Hornsea – WithernseaonisterH

Getting into Deep Water

 

As there was no breakfast provided at the Hayloft, I left very early in search of a café. At 8am there wasv little open in Hornsea town centre, just a supermarket where I bought a butty for lunch. The seafront leisure centre was just opening and I managed a quick bacon bap before setting out on what was to be a long day of beach walking. Just beyond the beacon was the terminal point of the Trans Pennine Trail and the ’S’ shaped symbol on the pillar, a twin to the trail-head at Southport. The first section of the day’s walk was over to Mappleton. This looked rather flat and featureless so I contacted Rachel, my daughter, and had a good natter whilst I traversed the cliff-tops, caravan parks and field edges, with cracks in the ground showing where the next piece of coast will soon disappear into the sea. The entire coast is crumbling away as stormy seas attack the soft cliffs .

 

The cafe at Mappleton closes on Tuesdays so I got no break before descending the ramp down to the beach and condemning myself to the beach for the rest of the day. It was a good job I had studied the tide tables because, if a walker gets caught by rising water, there is no escape route up the cliffs. Facing 12 miles of sand and mud, I set off keeping close to the sea, the firmest underfoot conditions. This turned out to be a huge mistake. Stream outflows from the land seem to be turned southwards, probably due to longshore drift. I found myself at one point on a sandy spur that disappeared into the sea with a deep estuary between me and the beach. Rather than reverse half a mile, I decided rather unwisely to wade across the inlet. It was far deeper than I expected and I got much wetter than I was prepared for and was lucky not to submerge my phone and wallet. The rest of the long march was spent drying out my lower parts and clinging to the safer ground near the foot of the cliffs.

 

The only break from the tedium was a five-minute sit on a muddy boulder to eat my butty and top up with water. I was shattered by early afternoon and was most relieved to see signs of civilisation as I neared Withernsea. Pulling up the steps onto the prom, I sat for some minutes on the first bench trying to compose myself before walking along to the café near the castle. Once again I was too early to check in so I sat for 45 minutes replenishing my diminished energy supplies before staggering round to my accommodation. It had been an unrelenting day of beach walking and I was very grateful for a shower and a couple of pints before heading out to eat.

Hornsea 08.09, Withernsea arr.15.35

GPS 16.67 miles in 6hrs 16mins 21secs walking time plus 20 mins for a bacon bap in the Hornsea Hub Leisure Centre and 45 mins for a coffee & cake in Castle Café in Withernsea whilst killing time until check-in.

Stayed at the Alexandra Hotel in Queen Street. Drank pints of Sea Fury (5.0%) from Sharp’s Brewery in Rock and Cwtch (4.6%) from Tiny Rebel Brewery in Newport. Went across the road to the Bengal Lancer for a chicken tandoori.

 

 

Wednesday 6^th November 2024       Withernsea – Kilnsea

My Point has been Spurned

 

Another early start with no breakfast. I searched the main street for an early café and found a haven in Smiles for Miles amusements where a friendly old dear made me a bacon butty. The south prom came to an abrupt end and, reluctant to take to the beach, I diverted inland through a housing estate and out onto a country road. Breaking back to the cliff edge, I was again faced with fences and private land so I lowered myself down a loop of rope and back onto the beach where the retreating tide had left wet but firm walking conditions. By the time I had done 8 miles passed wind farms and gas storage facilities, I
was ready a mental home. One last holiday park at Easington and I was ready to take to any opportunity of getting off this damned beach. A grassy trod led me into Beacon Lagoons nature reserve, a series of freshwater lagoons inland of the dunes.

 

Progress was on a narrow path atop a raised seawall running for two miles or so through the lagoons These hosted interesting birdlife including a great egret. I stopped for a short break, a sandwich and a drink, wishing that I had brought my binoculars. At the southern end of the reserve, the fenced path continued over farmland and returned the coast at a lane leading to what is left of Kilnsea. Whole villages on this eroding coast have disappeared into the sea around here. The lane continued as a tarmac road to the Spurn Discover Centre where, to my horror, I found the café to be close. I negotiated a bag drop with the volunteer crew in the workshop and set off for Spurn Point without all that weight on my shoulders. My newly released stride did not last for. The initial part of the route was across soft sandy at the neck of the peninsula where the sea had ingressed. I was crossing onto a tidal island and had to keep an eye on the tide tables to avoid being cut off. Once back on dry land, I made faster progress on the remains of the road than ran down to the lifeboat station. Beyond the lighthouse were some modern housings, now empty, and a radar station for shipping. The point is reached through a sandy heathland where a sign-post proudly displays distances to various parts of the known world.

 

The only way was back the way I had come. I must have been the last tourist on the island as I strode out to recross the sand causeway before high tide. I retrieved my rucksack from the discovery centre just as they were closing. Darkness was encroaching as I headed to the pub where I booked a table for a later meal and then moved on to the bird observatory and my bunkroom for the night. Rob, the manager of the observatory, came up to collect payment and I had time for a quick shower before returning to the pub for a lovely evening of food, drink and chatter. I had rounded a major turning point in my walk and tomorrow I would be leaving the North Sea behind.

 

Withernsea dep. 08.24, Kilnsea arr.16.18

GPS 18.79 miles in 7hrs 10mins 31secs walking with 15 mins stop for a bacon bap in an arcade in Withernsea and a 15 min stop to eat a butty overlooking the lagoons near Easington. Stayed in the Bird Observatory at Kilnsea and ate at the Crown and Anchor next door. Had haddock, chips & mushy peas followed by ginger sponge & custard. The beer was Landlord (4.0%) from Timothy Taylor and I finished with a half of Old Peculiar (5.0%). Had a pleasant chat with Bob & Alice, two Lancastrians now living in Hull,

 

Thursday 7^th November 2024          Kilnsea – Paull Holme

Diversion into the Unknown

 It was such a quiet and perfect start. Venturing downstairs for a breakfast of instant porridge, I was the only person left in the bird observatory. Such are the demands of early morning bird ringing. I slipped out of the empty building into a still and gloomy morning, perfect for the long day ahead. I walked up the road for a short distance looking for the start of the sea wall flood defence that I was to follow for the best part of two days. A field path led back to the coast where the route joined the raised track along the north shore of the Humber estuary. The grassy track for the first three miles seemed heavenly after beach walking for the previous three days. All was good with the world. And then Armageddon!

 

                      

I am not averse to climbing over ‘footpath closed’ fences but this barrier looked beyond me. The entire sea wall was cordoned off for miles with just an inland-pointing arrow by way of a diversion. I followed a winding lane heading northwards towards the village of Skeffling. The only dwelling was a small bungalow and fortunately a man was fiddling with his vehicle on his drive. ‘Everyone else has turned left at the next track’, says he pointing towards a group of cabins across the fields. The containers turned out to be the temporary offices for the construction site that I was trying to circumnavigate. Another stroke of luck was the dog walker who stopped me from disappearing for ever in the new workings, She showed me the  route up a ramp onto a containing wall for a set of lagoons. An artificial surface led me for some miles around this newly created nature reserve, passing brand new luxury bird-hides as I went. All this came to an abrupt end when I came to a remote country road. I had no idea where I was and which way to go: there was a total absence of signage. The map was useless. It showed none of these new workings and the tracks marked on the map seemed no longer to exist. I came to a gate marked ‘No Entry’ and had no alternative but to climb this and push on in the general direction of Hull. Gate after gate I  climbed until eventually I found a field track heading towards Outstray Farm, my only point of reference. As I approach the farm, a birdwatcher, complete with telescope and tripod, challenged me as to my route across the nature reserve. I was rather miffed and told him what I thought of this unsigned diversion with no help on offer to a coast path walker. We parted with him promising to pass my comments onto the Environment Agency and then he put me on the optimum route back on the river passing the Latitude Zero monument as I did so.

 

I was now getting increasingly concerned about the encroaching dusk as my diversion had put me well behind schedule. A quick stop for some emergency rations whilst sitting on some boulders near Hawkin’s Point then across a marshy area where I was eaten alive by flying bugs and insects. The blisters and welts took weeks to go down. As I rounded the final corner, darkness was falling and I could barely make out the farm where I was booked to stay. A set of steps led off the raised bank and a rough trop had been made across a dry dyke. A locked gate in an overgrown thorn hedge had to be climbed to gain access to the field in front of the farm. Soon Warren the owner was showing me to my chalet in the farmyard. He then rang the local pub and reserved me a table. After a shower and change of clothes, he then drove me the two miles for a well-earned meal. He even volunteered to pick me up  afterwards.. After 21 miles and an unexpected diversion, I was very grateful for this kindness. It brought a peaceful end to a very arduous day.

Kilnsea dep. 08.22, Paull Holme arr.16.30

GPS 20.54 miles in 7hrs 52mins 46secs walking time plus 15 mins stop to eat my sandwich  at Hawkin’s Point.

I stayed at Paull Holme Farm and ate in the Humber Tavern in Paull, steak & mushroom suet pie & chips followed by jam sponge & custard. The beer included Frothingham Best (4.3%)  from Great Newsome Brewery, South Frodingham.

 

 

Friday 8^th November 2024   Paull Holme – Hull   

Unable to Dock

 

I sat alone in the guests’ kitchen and helped myself to yoghurt, toast and coffee before packing my sack and setting off back over the field, over the gate in the thorn hedge and up the grass bank onto the sea wall. This I followed round the fort and out onto the riverbank. Passing a line of cottages with well-kept gardens and a car park full of fishermen after some protein, I arrived in the village of Paull and last night’s eating house, the Humber Tavern. At the far end of the village street, the sea wall started again and this turned sharply inland up a side stream passed a power station which I assumed was oil-fuelled. The path emerged onto a dead straight road onto which I turned alongside an estate of heavy industry. A busy flyover carrying the A1033, a major dual carriageway running eastwards from Hull City Centre, blocked my way. By risking life and limb, I was able to cross the traffic on the slip roads to gain a cycle-path on the far side. The map showed several rights of way, some marked as national trails continuing through dockland but I was stopped by security at the entrance to this industrial complex and told that no such paths exist, Dockland is forbidden territory. I continued for two miles further, as I had been directed, to find a permitted route back to the coast.

 

Half way along this arterial road, a petrol station advertised a coffee stop, A counter in the corner of the shop was serving coffee and bacon rolls and I took a brief break from the traffic noise outside.  At the designated for the ferry terminal, a footpath sign, my first for some three miles, proudly pointed towards the river. But when I got down to the ferry and the right-of-way marked on the map, there was still no access for a walker. I stopped a guy out for his lunchtime run apologising profusely for interrupting his rhythm, He explained that I had overshot the walkers’ path and, if I returned 400m, I would find a bridleway passed a wind turbine assemble site. Here I could pick up Trans Pennine Trail signs to access the riverside residential developments that led me to Hull’s famous aquarium, the Deep. A lovely new footbridge crossed a side river/canal and into a lively street full of bars and cafes that ran along to the marina. Calling it a day for my coastal walking, I turned inland alongside the marina, took a footbridge over Clive Sullivan Way and arrived in the pedestrianised shopping centre of the city. I was soon at the car and preparing for the drive home. Another section of the coast path was in the bag.

Paull Holme dep. 09.02, Hull arr. 13.50

GPS 11.54 miles in 4hrs 27mins 09secs plus 20 mins in café at a petrol station.

 

Conclusion

 

This 82-mile stage in my journey from the Scottish border around the England Coast Path had got me as far as Hull. It was my 4^th section walked over the last three years and in many ways the least enjoyable. I loved walking through Northumberland and the North Yorkshire coast was spectacular. But the industrial areas in between were a different matter. In choosing to walk the entire coast, every inch of it, then one must be prepared to take the good with the bad. However, I did not expect some of the problems that I met on this last trip. I knew in advance that the coast was eroding and falling into the sea but I had no idea that it was happening that fast and that dramatically. Add to this the reluctance of land owners, whether they be holiday parks or golf courses, government agencies, farmers or nature conservationists, to facilitate the passage of the coast path walker and many of the objectives of this new national trail become a mockery. My last concern is the approach of the mapping bodies, Streetmap or Ordnance Survey in provided up-to-date information to the foot traveller. The indication of tracks and rights of way that are closed off or totally inaccessible and the lack of communication between map makers and local authorities, agencies and developers is patently obvious. I feel sorry for oversea walkers, enticed by reading about this new path opened by the king and supposedly the longest coast path in Europe. They do not know what they are letting themselves in for.

 

 

North Yorkshire Coast Path

1^st – 5^th September 2024

Saltburn - Bridlington

 

Introduction

 

Although I have been picking off sections of the England Coast Path as and when they are opened, my main focus on this National Trail has been walking south down the east coast from the Scottish Border in my usual style of five-day long trips. Last year, year 2 of my project, got me as far as Saltburn just south of the North Yorkshire border with Co Durham. The natural continuation was the coast path through the rest of North Yorkshire to and beyond its border with the East Riding. This would include repeating some of the Cleveland Way which I had walked some 30 years ago, with the addition of a new venture beyond Scarborough and Filey.

 

Sunday 1^st September 2024              Saltburn – Runswick Bay

Let the Train Take the Strain

 

After my bad experience last February with Sunday morning train travel, I vowed never again  to go for an early Sunday morning train from Macclesfield. An alternative was an express from a different company leaving from Wilmslow. Jill kindly offered a lift at an ungodly hour and all looked good with train times. However, on getting to the station, the departures board showed that my train was seriously delayed. In fact, it had not even left Crewe. In a panic reminiscent of last February’s dash to Stockport, I pleaded with Jill to run me into Manchester. She dropped me on Portland Street and I raced across the city to Victoria Station and my TransPennine train to the north east. I grabbed a strong coffee, settled into my seat, breathed a huge sigh of relief whilst hoping that my heart rate would soon return to normal. The journey across the Pennines was slow and steady but kept to the schedule and an early arrival into Saltburn, the end of the line.

 

After a dry morning, the rain started in earnest as the train ground to a halt. A kind fellow passenger did the honours with my start photographs then it was off past all the cafes and down the steep road to the seafront. Just beyond a pub, a set of sandy steps led up onto the cliffs. The grass track provided fast and easy going, so easy in fact that I missed the big drop into Skinningrove and found myself on a winding road down into the top end of the village. Trying a short cut back to the cliffs, I got onto an unused and overgrown path and had to climb over a barbed-wire fence. 

The next section climbed steadily up to the highest point on the Yorkshire Coast and thence turned gradually downhill before plunging into the old mining hamlet of Boulby. A metal sculptor featured a miner sitting at a table overlooked the old workings. The route descended gently into Staithes crossing a footbridge over the estuary and into busy narrow streets. I would have loved a pint in an olde-worlde pub but time was not on my side and I needed to climb quickly up a steep cobbled street between the houses. This continued up a seemingly endless rocky path onto the clifftop path to Port Mulgrave, Another mile brought me to a sharp turn inland and a distant view of the hotel. My accommodation for the night was the first building in Runswick Bay. It was bang on-route and a perfect end to a very long and hectic day.

 Saltburn dep. 12.56,  Runswick Bay Hotel arr. 18.31

GPS 13.18 miles in 5hr 34mins 55secs.

X

Stayed at the Runswick Bay Hotel and had a super meal of battered cod & chips and mushy peas followed by jam sponge & custard. The beer was Farmers Blonde (4.0%) from Bradfield Brewery.

 

 

Monday 2^nd September 2024           Runswick Bay – Robin Hood’s BayonisterH

No Vampires in Whitby

I had been vaguely conscious of thunder during the night and when I flung back the hotel room curtains, I was not surprised to see puddle-filled roads. I had requested an early breakfast so was on my own in the breakfast room. This got me out of the hotel ahead of the game and I was soon packed and striding down the wet and slippery road to the beach. The coast path route is across the sands and up a narrow, eroded gully at the far end. Goodness knows how progress can be made at high tide. The ascent onto the cliffs begins up the bed of a stream and then over a narrow wooden footbridge and up an endless set of steps up one side of the ravine and then curves leftwards to gain the flat ground of the clifftop farmland. The walk along the edge was generally flat, dry and easy. But a couple of wooded ravines had to be crossed involving steps and stony drops into narrow valleys, ‘wykes’ as they are known locally. The last of these wykes was the steepest but had the bonus of not having a scramble up the other side. The exit was via a disused miners’ tramway which contoured round the headland into Sandsend, a busy modern resort just outside Whitby.

 

After crossing the river via the road bridge, a mile or of promenade and pavement led past a golf-links. At its far end, a tarmacked cycle-path climbed gradually to higher ground for the last two miles into Whitby. The town was cover in a haar mist which reduced any views to a few hundred yards. Eventually a pair of whale tusks appeared out of the fog and I knew I had arrived at the James Cook Memorial. At the foot of the next steps was a quiet café that provided me with a banana and syrup crepe for my lunch. Such was the volume of people dawdling along the narrow riverside streets that progress was slow and devious until I came to the bottom of the Abbey Steps. Here the crowds cleared as few were attempting the 199 steps to the ruined abbey. Pulling out my English Heritage card, I was able to quickly tour the site and its beautifully kept grounds. Then I descended through the museum in record time and was back on the path. I still had 6½ miles to walk.

 

The afternoon walking was very straightforward with miles of grassy moorland, a few gentle climbs and just one wyke to negotiate. After passing a lighthouse, I stopped concentrating on the map and let the miles drift by in the increasingly improving weather. Before I knew it I was pulling round the last headland below a coast watch station and climbing up to a lady standing with bottles of gin and tonic. She explained that she was an American who was waiting for two of her colleagues who were following me down the coast. I imagine she had a long wait because I had seen no one for miles around. Within minutes I was in the outskirts of Robin Hood’s Bay where I met a man who was planning to camp wild in the area I had just crossed. I enquired of a local the whereabouts of my hotel and was delighted to learn that I was no more than 400 yards from my night’s accommodation. I had made good time and had the opportunity of a shower and rest before my meal. A grand day’s walk.

 Runswick Bay 09.24, Robin Hood’s Bay arr.16.38

GPS 15.62 miles in 6hrs 44mins 29secs walking time plus 40 mins in a café in Whitby and looking round the ruined abbey..

Stayed at the Grosvenor Hotel on Station Road. Dinner was lamb shank and mashed potatoes followed by sticky toffee pudding and ice cream. The beers were Landlord (4.3%) from Timothy Taylor’s and Wainwright (4.3%) from Twaites (now Marston’s plc).

 

 

Tuesday 3^rd September 2024           Robin Hood’s Bay – Scarborough

Wykes Galore

Another downhill start this morning with a stop half way down to get a sandwich for lunch from the post office. The old town was a warren of narrow streets, not the place for cars although some were still edging their way around. The coast path exit was not easy to find. I spotted a small sign on a wall pointing up a steep narrow lane between two cottages. I almost missed a set of steps rising to the left that led out onto the coast. Just as a good walking rhythm was reached, the world suddenly dropped away again, this time into Boggle Hole. Squeezed into the bottom of this ravine was a youth hostel, a café and a lifeboat station. As usual, the only way was up and it was quite some climb to get out onto the clifftop path for the second time today, The trek over to Ravenscar was relatively straight-forward with the overbearing structure of Raven Hall Hotel dominating the landscape. At the next ‘wyke’, the route turned inland and climbed gradually up into the village and National Trust cottages. I continued through the village on the promise of a nice tea shop, but this was closed on Tuesdays so on I plodded.

 

The next few miles were easy and pleasant in warm dry conditions. I was just beginning to recover from the morning’s exertions and getting into my stride when I arrived at the edge of Hayburn Wyke, a huge declivity across the path. The descent was on a mixture of steps and slippery rocks and two stream had to be crossed at the bottom. I found the climb out most taxing as the steep track weaved up through the trees with the top never appearing to get any nearer. On the tops once more, I was sorely in need of my egg butty and searched desperately for a bench to sit on. I passed a group who had brought up their own picnic chairs and then, to my horror, found the next bench fully occupied. I had to make do with a wet and rotten fallen branch at the top of another big drop.

 

Suitably rested and refreshed, I completed the descent into Cloughton Wyke and onto the final section of the day. The next two miles were on rather featureless grassy paths with the ruins of Scarborough Castle in the distance. The headland at Scalby Ness was rounded and the last steep descent of the day took me down to a rather tempting pub. But I marched on and into Scarborough along the very long promenade. My b&b was north of the town centre so I chose to leave the prom before the castle headland and climb up to the cliff-top roads. I would postpone the circumnavigation of the castle headland until tomorrow. The b&b was difficult to get to as all streets seemed to run north-south and my westerly line was impossible to maintain. But I final arrived and was made most welcome with a cup of tea and a chat with mine host whilst reclining on his comfortable sofa. It had been a tough old day and I was relieved to get a rest before heading out into the fleshpots of Scarborough.

Robin Hood’s Bay dep. 09.21, Scarborough arr.16.32

GPS 14.75 miles in 6hrs 49mins 53secs walking with 15 mins stop for a butty near Cloughton Wyke.

Stayed at an Airbnb in Moorland Road, Scarborough. Peter, my host, recommended the Craft Bar on Northway, Here I enjoyed pints of Aquila.(4.5%) from Saltaire and Hop Session (4.2%) from Brew York Breweries. On the way home, I called into the Cinnamon restaurant on Dean Road for a curry. I slept very well.

 

 

Wednesday 4^th September 2024                  Scarborough – Reighton     

To the End of Filey Brigg

 

I still had the headland promenade to get round. Finishing early last night had added a mile to today’s schedule and I duly needed an early start. There was no breakfast included in my b&b booking so I had no reason to dally once I was awake. My landlord was out walking the dog as I quietly closed the door behind me and set off down to the north promenade. I followed this beneath the castle and round to the harbour and town centre. The sky was grey and threatening and it was not as warm as it had been all week. Keeping to the seafront, the route passed the front of the Spa, an impressive building hosting a café, Farrer’s no less. Rather posh for me but they provided a lovely bacon sandwich and cappuccino. Suitably breakfasted, I emerge into a drizzle that got heavier as I climbed the steep path up to the top road.

 

A short spell on the pavement of this clifftop road then an acorn sign pointed steeply down through the coastal woodland. A narrowed wooded path ran along the lower cliffs above Cayton Bay, two miles of deserted beach. Then, rather gratuitously, the path reared again up to the highest cliffs. From here, things got a bit easier with rising grassland leading to a narrow trod close to the very edge. Rambling clubs and parties of other walkers trooped towards me and passing was awkward. Holiday parks and static caravans covered the coast hillside and took an age to pass. Finally, the route took off over a golf course and the cliffs of Filey Brigg came into view. The last mile to the headland was easy walking slightly downhill to the official end of the Cleveland Way and ending in the spectacular point of Filey Brigg. All of Filey Bay opened out ahead and the town was an absolute picture with its white buildings against a green and wooded coastal hillside.

 

Reversing my route off the Brigg, I took to the beach as soon as possible hoping to make good time to a beachside café, But it was not to be, The promenade was crammed with cheap and cheerful mobile stalls, not endearing to someone who had recently been in a Spa restaurant. I pushed on along the seafront and still no coffee shops appeared so I shinned up a set of concrete steps and carried on down the coast beside a golf course. When this section ended in another set of steps, this time back down to the beach, I took to the sand and walked for two miles passed Hunmanby holiday park before mounting the cliffs once more for the final run-in to Reighton, yet another holiday park. To catch a bus back into Filey, I continued passed the entrance of this holiday village and across a field into Watson’s Lane to reach a bus stop on the main road. I only had ten minutes to wait and a no.12 bus took me back to Filey bus station from where it was only a short walk to my Airbnb in Queen Street. Here I had a lovely room and got some good advice as to where the best food and ale could be found.

           

Scarborough dep. 08.24, Reighton Watson’s Lane arr.15.39

GPS 16.41 miles in 6hrs 45mins 52secs walking time plus 30 mins for breakfast at Farrer’s Bar in Scarborough Spa.

I stayed in a lovely Airbnb at Bayview in Queen Street. I was directed to the Cobblers Arms in Union Street where I sat in the snug and drank Harvest Gold (4.2%) from Bradfield and Marmalade Porter (5.0%) from Wold Top Breweries. I then went over to the Star in Mitford Street and ordered a steak pudding and chips washed down by a pint of White Rat (4.0%) an old favourite from Ossett Brewery.

 

 

Thursday 5^th September 2024         Reighton – Bridlington   

Fog over Flamborough

 

A lovely breakfast was laid out for me in the morning. My host, Diana, had taken the dog for a walk and I sat alone helping myself to yoghurt and toast and lots of tea. It was time to head back to the bus station and take a bus back to where I had finished walking yesterday. The no.13 went back via the Holiday Park at Reighton, the entrance of which I had already walked past. Rather than continuing on to Watson’s Lane, I leapt off the bus at this point and was, earlier than expected, on my way again on the coast path. The route set out along the edge of a golf course and then into an area of new woodland traversed by mown pathways. There was no signage across this area so I pressed on until I met the official route again as it came round a headland. A series of field paths led back to the clifftops. A problematic mile was then encountered where an over officious farmer had fenced off the narrow trod, confining the walker to the very edge of the overgrown cliff-face. To proceed, I had to climb a fence onto private land and then back over some barbed wire to get out again. A scramble up to a high point brought me out onto open fields and a pleasant track running at a safer distance from the cliffs, mown in parts and well maintained by more considerate landowners.

As I approached a trig point, a mist descended and I was not to see a worthwhile view for the rest of the day. A strange gaggling sound could be heard to seaward and it was only when I reached the bird watching area near Bempton and read the information boards at the viewing platforms, that I realised that this din was made by gannets. In fact, I nearly fell over a young gannet sitting by the path waiting to be fed. The mist was getting thicker as I approached Thornwick Bay. I lost the path for a few minutes whilst crossing a highly maintained area of land being developed as a holiday centre. Then I found a concession path that took me through a steep-sided valley and up into a car park where, amazingly, out of the fog appeared  a café. I had arrived at North Landing. The rounding of Flamborough Heas was a great disappointment. Having anticipated for weeks my first every visit, I saw nothing but fog on all sides. Even the lighthouse was difficult to locate. The dominating feature was the sound of the foghorn coming from somewhere at the base of the cliffs.

 

Without seeing a thing, I was round and down the leeward side of the headland before I realised it. In no time, I was passing Old and New Fall on my way down to South Landing. A steep set of steps led down to a beach and a lifeboat station (selling coffee no less) and up Beacon Hill into Danes Dyke nature reserve. I was hoping that the next beach might lead out onto Bridlington sands, but it did not. I had one more climb over to Sewerby where the coast path merged with a tarmacked path that ran gently downhill into the outskirts of Bridlington, with the only danger being run down by the Land Train. The north promenade led directly into the harbour where the only way forward lay inland to the town centre. As it was beginning to rain, I headed directly for the station and sat reading until my train arrived. Progress to Doncaster was rapid and on schedule. Then my connection to Stockport got stuck behind a goods train doing about 30 mph. No attempt was made to get the slow train into a loop to let the passenger trains keep time. I was 30 minutes late into Stockport but that was no loss because my connecting train to Macclesfield was still in Manchester awaiting the arrival of a crew. Texts to my very patient wife negotiated a late pickup and a potentially wonderful last day was spoilt by a combination of fog on Flamborough Head and the failing train system.

 

Reighton Holiday Park dep. 09.14, Bridlington Station arr. 16.38

GPS 16.55 miles in 6hrs 55mins 00secs plus 20 mins in café at North Landing

 

Conclusion

 

Thus ended the third section of my walk down the east coast path of England. Another 76 miles of the 2,700-mile England Coast Path. The traverse of North Yorkshire proved pretty challenging, particularly the ups and downs into river valleys and estuaries of the villages by the sea. The so called wykes, these wooded ravines that involved hundreds of slippery steps up and down, proved wearing and damaging to the 2.5 mile per mile average pace that I had based my schedule on. The mist and fog that hung around all week robbed me of the compensation of good views. Generally, the paths were bone dry and in good condition and the long grassy cliff-top sections were a joy to walk. The accommodation worked out really well. Two great hotels and two homely Airbnbs added to the enjoyment of the week and it was a real bonus to get good quality real ale every night, The big drawback as ever was the train service. No longer can we expect trains to run on time, if at all, and this supposedly sustainable way of travelling around the country is fast becoming impossible. Next year, for my next section of the coast path, I am seriously considering driving to the East Riding, leaving my car in the Hull environs and using local bus services as and when necessary. These at least seem to be more reliable even though my Cheshire bus pass is not well received east of the Pennines. Evidently my county council does not pay its dues.

 

 

 

Hebridean Way (Part 1)

10^th – 14^th June 2024


Introduction

 

It has certainly been difficult having our daughter and grandchildren living five hours drive away but their Ayrshire home has one considerable advantage. It acts as a staging post and launch pad for trips to the north. And the easy transport links from Ayr to Glasgow Airport and the Scottish Isles made it the idea base to start our journey to the Outer Hebrides for a trek up the southern section of the Hebridean Way. My annual adventure with David Tucker therefore began, on Sunday 9^th June, with the long drive north for a meal, catchup and sleepover with the Scottish branch of the family.

 

Monday 10^th June 2024                    Vatersay – Craigston

Landing on a Beach

 

The almost seamless transport connections from Ayr were seriously disrupted last year when the station hotel burnt down. Trains are still not running from the town and a bus link to Prestwick has now been in operation for well over twelve months. My son-in-law kindly offered to drive us to the temporary railhead so we could get on our way. The airport bus-link goes from the rear entrance to Paisley Gilmour Street and we were checked in, through security and having a light breakfast in the airport lounge in very good time for our flight to Barra. The Twin Otter plane looked miniscule compared with the surrounding airliners. We walked out across the tarmac and were greeted by a smart young lady who ushered us aboard, gave us the safety talk and then jumped into the seat beside the captain and flew the plane. We felt in good hands as we descended into Barra in the middle of a rain storm where we dropped onto the beach at the northern end of the island and taxied up to a small terminal building at the far end. The taxi that we had booked was nowhere to be found then Neil Campbell sped into the car park claiming that the plane was early. He drove us directly over the causeway to Vatersay, bypassing Castlebay as we went. A café in the community hall was the perfect solution to our food issues and the time had come to begin our walk.

 

The start of the Hebridean Way was marked by a rather unimposing metal upright on a mound opposite the café. It gave a fabulous view over the beach and coastline around the eastern side of Vatersay. The marked route headed north along the road we had driven down. The wreck of a plane crash, the RAF Catalina seaplane on a training exercise in 1944, was scattered around the shoreline. The road kept to the coast around the hillside giving views of Castlebay across the water. Over the causeway to Barra, the road turned right in front of an industrial building. After a further 400 meters, a footpath sign pointed up the hillside on a steep grassy path which led to a false summit and then across a marshy gully to the actual high point. Suddenly views to the north opened up and we picked our way down to the rocky shore. The direction posts led over rough ground to the east bringing us gradually down to a sandy beach and the most famous hotel on the island, the Isle of Barra. We walked through the hotel on our way back to the coast road. It appeared modern and expensive so we quickly moved on into Craigston and passed a Catholic chapel as we looked for for our guest house/farm. David eventually rung on a doorbell of a roadside house to ask for directions. We had overshot our destination and had to retreat back along the lane and into an unmarked farmyard. Here we had found Gearradhmor and our accommodation for the evening. Anne proved a homely cook and wonderful host.

 

Vatersay dep. 13.40,  Craigston arr. 16.37

GPS 8.18 miles in 3hr 50mins 29secs walking time with 20 mins butty stop on the hillside.

Stayed at Gearradhmor Guest House in Craigston and were offered a meal of soup, haddock and chips and ice cream fortified by a bottle of red wine, ‘La Clape’ from L’Oratoire des Quatre Vents.

 

 

Tuesday 14^th May 2024                Craigston  – DaliburghonisterH

Whisky Galore

 

Part 1    Craigston – Ardhmor Ferry

 

Early alarm for a 6.45am breakfast. Anne saw us on our way with a cooked breakfast, lots of toast and a gallon of coffee. By 7.20am we were on our way: we had a boat to catch. The lane headed up the valley passing an RSPB noticeboard about their Corncrake conservation work. The tarmac gave way to a rough track leading onto the moor. A steep grassy path led north up the hillside which took us across a wet traverse beneath the summit ridge. The route suddenly turned sharp right and climbed to a low point on this ridge and then descended into a coire with magnificent views opening up in front of us of the east of the island and the sea beyond. The ground became marshier as we lost height but we soon scrambled onto a track that brought us passed a lochan to a quiet road. Keeping an eye on the time, we decided to stay on the official route and not bail out round the roads. Over another moor we strode with now less than an hour before we were due at the ferry. The coast road to the terminal was now down below us but we were still heading away from the ferry as the route contoured around the hillside. We abandoned the path and headed down a grassy valley on a short cut to the road. This worked out well; we even found a gate onto the tarmac. It was now only a short way along the road and we arrived in good time for the boat. A tiny café in the terminal building gave us shelter from the cold wind and a coffee for our elevenses. We sat chatting with a couple of girl cyclists whilst watching the ferry boat sailing towards us. Then we were invited to walk down the concrete ramp and into the passenger seating area. We had completed our walk across Barra. It had seemed a very brief visit.

 

GPS 6.82 miles in 3 hours 2 mins and 29 secs.

 

Part 2   Eriskay – Daliburgh

 

This time it was up the steep concrete ramp onto Eriskay and our third island. A road headed north but we took a path through the marram grass at the back of the dunes. This emerged onto the road near a walled cemetery perched of a mound of high ground. Beyond was the pub, the Am Politician, named after the famous ship that was wrecked off the Eriskay coast, the story behind the film ‘Whisky Galore’. I could not walk past, so I persuaded David to sit with me for a few minutes whilst I tried the waters. Then it was out again into the wind to cross the long causeway onto South Uist. This connection between the island was only completed 22 years ago but now carries a wide and busy road to our fourth island. The first three miles on South Uist were on the flat and open coast road with few features of interest until we came upon a café run by a young couple in West Kilbride. After scones and coffee, it was back to the serious business of making miles up the west coast, first on the road and then around a coastal trod to the Polochar Inn. Here we joined the Machair Trail, a route we would come across several times over the next few of days. The main feature of the next section was the flatness, the fertile greenness and the scattering of modern houses on the original crofting land. Eventually the houses began to cluster together as we approached the only village in miles. We turned inland down a narrow lane for a mile or so to find our hotel.

 

Eriskay Ferry Terminal 11.56, Borrodale Hotel arr.16.50

GPS 11.53 miles in 4hrs 10mins 28secs walking time plus 20 mins in the Am Politician (Seven Peaks, IPA 3.9% from Drygate) and 20 mins in West Kilbride Cafe.

Stayed at the Borrodale Hotel, Daliburgh. Dinner of halibut followed by bread & butter pudding. The beer was Skye Gold (4.3%) from Isle of Skye Brewing, and a bottle of Merlot from Tierra del Rey, Chile.

 

 

Wednesday 12^th June 2024               Daliburgh – Gerinish

Uist Unearthed

 

A full Scottish breakfast was an important factor, there not being much chance of a café today. As we walked the mile down the lane back to the Hebridean Way, we were overtaken by two ladies who intended to catch a bus back to the hotel in the afternoon. We however were attempting a much longer day, well over 20 miles, to the Orasay Inn in the north of the island. Our only chance of an escape was a recommended taxi driver on neighbouring Benbecula. We rejoined the two ladies at the ancient site of the round houses at Taighean Cruinn Cladh Halainn. Further progress on the beach seemed easier than the path through the dunes although, when the beach became stony, we withdrew from the seashore and found better going on the adjoining golf course. A grass track then headed north up the coastal plain with ground nesting birds complaining about our presence all the way. Some standing stones were indicated on the map so, at a ‘Uist Unearthed’ sign, we headed off left into some sandy hillocks. Finding nothing ancient or modern, we continued on our way until a farmer/ranger, standing beside his tractor talking to a woman, told us the standing stones were buried. He then went on to explain what Uist Unearthed was all about and how we could benefit from downloading their app. Not suitable impressed, we had a quick drink and more emergency rations and strode on until we met with a coast road looping out towards us.

 

A Dutch couple, with their state-of-the-art mobile home, proudly showed us a photograph they had just taken of a short-eared owl sitting on a post. Much as we scanned the landscape, we could not spot it. Another dune edge path left the tarmac and looped round to rejoin the road near Howmore. We ignored the turn off to the hostel and continued north for a short while to the right-hand turn into Drimsdale where we crossed the main road. Before we set out over the moor we phoned the local taxi and asked for a pick up from this same road but further north after we had completed our inland diversion. The moorland path made a change from the coastal grassy track over the machair. It was a narrow but well-maintained trod across the marshy heather with footbridges and causeways across the waterways linking the lochans. After an hour of this weaving and winding, the road appeared and we emerged through an RSPB car park. The sky was cloudless and we felt the warmth of the sun as we walked through a herd of wild ponies on our route back to civilisation and a very busy trunk road. Heavy trucks sped along this single tracked highway with passing bays and no protection for tired walkers. Another text alerted our taximan to our imminent arrival and, after passing below a hilltop rocket tracking station with the village of Gerinish ahead, we saw the taxi coming towards us quickly jumped in. Iain drove us round to the Orasay Inn and we were glad to have kept the day down to a sensible mileage. We had time for showers and a rest before we took our places in the lounge for a beer and gin & tonic. In turn we were called to table where our much-earned meal awaited.

 

 

Daliburgh dep. 09.09, Gerinish arr.16.30

GPS 18.55 miles in 7hrs 06mins 47secs walking with 15 mins for butties near Tobha Bornais.

Stayed at the Orasay Inn. Our meal started with a shared starter, crab cakes, then I had a chicken curry. A bottle of Innes & Gunn preceded the wine, a 2016 Pinotage from Kleinkloof.

 

Thursday 13^th June 2024                 Gerinish – Nunton          

Dancing Culla Bay

 

A generous breakfast and huge cafetiere of strong black coffee and we were paying our dues to the wonderful hosts at Orasay. Bang on 9am, just as we had arranged, a taxi drew up, not Iain this time but his wife Mary. In ten minutes, she had us back round to where Iain had pick us up, dropping us by a lonely fingerpost pointing over a featureless moor. Now we were faced with a five mile crossing of a remote moor just to get back to where we had spent the night. The path was in surprising good condition, easy to follow and a firm dry line that weaved between the hundreds of small lochans. Three wind turbines dominated the view ahead and, after nearly two hours walking, we turned towards them and joined the wide access track to the road at Lochcarnan. The oil-fired power station (on stand-by) lay on the coast off to our right. Exercising our brains, we speculated on the speed to the tips of the turbine blades. 60mph was our estimate. Another moor, this time poorly signed, led to the Ardmore road and the busy A-road. Calling in at a supermarket/post office in a vain attempt of finding a coffee, we were directed to a café nearly a mile off-route. No chance! On we continued over the causeway onto our fifth and final island, Benbecula, and yet another supermarket. The Co-op had no coffee but at least we now had sandwiches for lunch. The next couple of miles were a drag along a flat straight road with houses spaced at regular intervals for as far as the eye could see. 

It was a relief to arrive at Liniclate, a large group of buildings that included a school and a hotel. Our route took us right past the entrance to the Dark Island Hotel and we could not resist the popping in to see if they would make us our elevenses. Our coffee was accompanied by slices of cheesecake, so it was a much-refreshed duo that walked down to the beach and around another wind turbine, A friendly lady pointed out the path along the dunes but we preferred the beach and the prospect of seeing otters. Back of the coast path, we stopped momentarily to eat our Co-op sandwiches and then rounded the south west tip of the island and turned northwards one more. A very long stretch of beach now beckoned and, for more than half an hour, we trudged toward a natural harbour in the rocks at the northern end. Back onto the road for a short while, we finally came to a sandy track that dropped us into Culla Bay. David’s Scottish Dancing Group had introduced him to the Strath Spey dance of the same name and he was determined to reproduce a few steps on the beautiful beach. Specks of rain were falling as we traversed the sand and climbed into Aird, a small suburb of Balivanich. Our route turned away from the town and headed back south into Nunton, passing a distillery on our way to the hostel at Nunton House. The owner, Donald, had seen us and came out to settle us into our room and to offer us a lift back into town for a meal. He even popped into the Stepping Stones to reserved us a table. Such was the kindness and welcome of the people we met with on our trip.

           

Gerinish dep. 09.10, Nunton arr.16.30

GPS 16.22 miles in 6hrs 10mins 44secs walking time plus a 40 mins lunch stop in the Dark Island Hotel.

We stayed in Nunton House Hostel and ate in the Stepping Stones Restaurant, chicken & mushroom pie and cake & custard for pudding. A bottle of Innes & Gunn started the evening followed by a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon from Ladera in the Chile Central Valley. It had begun the rain so we texted Iain and rode home, dry and warm, in his taxi

 

Friday 14^th June 2024                      Nunton – Benbecula Airport   

From the Mountain to the Sea

 

We had been very lucky with the weather so far, cold but dry for much of the week. But that luck deserted us last night as a band of heavy rain came through from the west. It still had not cleared when we emerged from the hostel for our last session of this year’s trip. It started with some road walking, half-a-mile back to the route and four miles in a straight line to the foot of a mountain. The route up to the summit of Rueval was almost entirely invisible both on the ground and without any sort of marker posts. We stumbled through the heather up the hillside that got steeper and steeper. At least the rain had stopped and the clag was clearing off the tops. By the time we reached the summit cairn, we had views over the surrounding lochs and moorland but not into the far distance. As we started the long and gentle descent, the coastal panorama appeared out of the mist and the end of our expedition came into view. Weaving our way round the open waters, we eventually came to a fence that we had to step over, not the end of the Hebridean Way we had expected.

Out onto the main coast road, we turned for the airport and another three miles of road walking. A black cloud was hurrying towards us and by the time we reached the terminal, we were soaked once more and had to change in the gents’ toilets. There was no café so we ate our emergency rations and tried to get the coffee machine to work. The plane was late arriving and 15 minutes late leaving. The lady captain made up time back to Glasgow and we were so fast getting out of the terminal that we caught the bus we had always intended to take.  Back on schedule we jumped on the 5.40pm train to Prestwick and the replacement bus to Ayr. Calling into a supermarket to grab a bottle of wine, we walked round to my daughter’s house in perfect time for a lovely meal that my very talented granddaughter, Charlotte, had prepared. A perfect end to a perfect trip.

 

Nunton House dep. 09.00, Benbecula Airport arr. 12.56

GPS 9.68 miles in 3hrs 56mins 05secs

 

Conclusion

 

Such was the remoteness of this trail, the logistics in the planning and travel arrangements were a challenge. But everything worked out perfectly, mainly because all the people involved, airline, taxi drivers, hotel receptionists etc went out of their way to be helpful and faithfully to their commitments. Having a base in Scotland to leave the car and break our journey was a Godsend. Hebridean weather was on our side and kept the worst of our spring rain away. All in all, it was everything that we had hoped for. Fabulous landscapes and beaches, wonderful moorland and birdlife and the occasional mountain. 70 miles completed (65 miles on-route) and in a good position to complete the trail on our next visit. Next year, God willing, we shall fly into Benbecula and fly home from Stornoway six days later. Let us hope that we get to finish this amazing adventure.