The weather forecast today is dismal. Dark clouds. Showers. Poor visibility. I drive to Abbeytown, sit in my car, watch the raindrops sliding down the windscreen, and wonder if it’s worth setting off at all.
My route today is entirely on the road. So, no mud and no barbed wire fences to worry about. Only a spot of rain. I decide to get out and get on with it.
The B5302 is not exactly a busy road, but there are no pavements and just enough traffic to keep me jumping onto the uneven grassy verge at regular intervals.
I startle another flock of sheep, who think I’ve come to feed them. They bleat plaintively and pursue me for several hundred yards.
This was a walk of two halves. The first half was easy and pleasant. The second half… well, I’ll talk about that in another post.
It’s another dull day today, I’m sorry to say. But Silloth is a lovely place and – despite the dismal weather – I’m enjoying my stay here.
This morning the sun is shining. The fine weather isn’t going to last for long, but I manage to photograph Maryport looking beautiful, with the tide in and the harbour full, and a line of wind turbines gleaming on the horizon.
I catch the train from Maryport to Workington. Today, due to transport logistics, I’ve only planned a short walk. So I can relax, take my time, and enjoy the day. And I’m following the official England Coast Path – so nothing could possibly go wrong, could it?
From the train station, I follow the England Coast Path signs along a road, and then climb a footbridge over the railway line. On the other side, I stop to take a photograph looking back at Workington. The Cumbrian hills make a dramatic backdrop.
Shortly after I pull my camera out, I realise I’ve lost the polarising filter from off the front of my lens. Not a good start. Continue reading
I park in Parton, duck under the railway line, and find the shore. This is Parton Bay and I think there might be a sandy beach here when the tide is low.
I catch the train to St Bees, an ancient village and once the site of a Norman Priory dedicated to Saint Bega, from where it gets its name. I pass her statue (I think) on the bridge as I walk towards the coast.
[Later I learn the statue is St George, not St Bees, after all!] Continue reading
I catch the train back to Sellafield station. I can’t find a way to continue via the beach (the River Ehen is in the way) and so head inland along the road.
Sellafield’s high perimeter fence, checkpoints and security men are intimidating, and put me off taking photographs. I turn off down a track and, as soon as I’ve gone far enough and feel ‘invisible’, I turn around and take some shots of Sellafield’s skyline.
It’s a misty January day in Ravenglass, and I’m about to start my first coastal walk of 2017. It’s good to be back.
Ravenglass seems cut off from the rest of the world. Surrounded by water, it is the place where three rivers with weirdly short names (the River Esk, the River Irt and the River Mite) all empty into the sea. It was once a busy Roman port. Now it’s… quiet. Continue reading
Should be a short walk today. Only 4-5 miles from Stubb’s corner to Ravenglass. The only problem is… there’s a ford to cross. I’m optimistic all will be well – I’ve brought my waterproof socks with me!
I begin at the southern end of the Eskmeals Range, where a beautiful rainbow hangs across the beach.