Going Coastal

DAY 8

Monday May 30^th 2016

Redcar to Lindisfarne Miles 150

Today was a day of two halves. The morning was spent in the industrial northeast in grey, murky, misty, claggy weather and the afternoon mostly in sunshine along the glorious Northumberland coast.

We left our hotel in Redcar at around 9.30am. We would not want to stay at this hotel again. However it was cheap and the staff, especially Ashley, went out of her way to ensure that we were happy. Ashley if you ever read this, you should apply for a job with one of the big hotel chains; you could have a great career with them. One interesting thing we noticed was the building plot alongside the hotel. Lots of rubble and weeds. The main plant growing was oilseed rape. This plant lights up the countryside in bright yellow swathes at this time of year, however, the fact that it now grows in most cities indicates just how much of it is grown and how it has now spread to be a common weed.

Redcar seems a sorry town, completely in contrast to others on this coast. It probably gets very little of the holiday trade. The fishing boats are drawn up onto the streets one block away form the quay, each with its own tractor. Is this for reasons of space on the beach or reflective of the wild weather on this coast?

Redcar Fishing Fleet

As we drove towards Middlesborough there was a distinct smell in the air. It seemed to be a cross between a fried breakfast cooking and acrid chemicals. Certainly it was pervasive in the car and I imagine that the locals have to endure this every day. The area was one of docklands with large cranes. As we entered Billingham we entered chemical city. Huge factories and chemical plants and big buildings without any windows. One place was called Oxygen Corner. It was at this point that we realised that we had been holding our breath! Presumably this is where the locals come to breathe and refresh when they can!

No doubt such places are built on the coast because the land is available. As the sea here is uninviting and with a plethora of good resorts, no one wants to come to these parts, so a chemical plant can be sited here. Unfortunately whoever built such places here did not appreciate that the wind is mainly off the ocean and onto the land. Indeed in these parts it originates in the Ural Mountains before crossing the North Sea.

At Sutton Carew, which we felt had similarities to Redcar, new 3 and 4 bedroomed houses were being advertised for sale at £139,500, which is half of the current UK national average of £288,000. Sutton Carew’s northern end is posher, with a golf club and dunes, but has on its sea front a large Indian restaurant called the Sheesh Mahal. Apart from spoiling the view, it supports the story that curry is now the national meal of England!

We started along the Durham Heritage Coast road and this offered good sea views as the road is close to the ocean and there are no mud flats.

Entering Hartlepool we saw the masts of a tall sailing ship. Trying to get close to it proved difficult. We followed the occasional sign, but the road into the Tees & Huddersfield Dockyard Museum was actually marked to a Yacht Club. Message to Councils, if you want visitors to your expensively built museums, please make sure that the signage is clear and complete! The great surprise to me was that this ship was the HMS Trincomalee. This vessel was instrumental in charting the Pacific North West where I now live. Indeed my daughter lived in a road named after this ship. She was built in India and launched in 1817 and was in the Pacific in 1852. She is the oldest ex naval vessel still afloat. HMS Victory is 50 years older, but in dry dock, so not floating.

HMS Trincomalee

Leaving Huddersfield to continue along the Durham coast Jim taught me the “Durham song”. Basically you “sing” Durham over and over again to the tune of the Pink Panther. Try it, it works!

We entered Blackhall and then Easington. Both ex mining towns, which “died” on the closure of the pits and indeed of the whole mining industry in the early 1990s. Easington was the scene of one of the worst mining disasters, when in May 1951 an explosion killed 83 men. Neither town appears to be prospering or showing much sign of having recovered from the closure of the pit. New houses are advertised as being available for $114,000 or £98,000 with government “help to buy.”

Seaham is a pleasant place, despite the very sinister looking Masonic Lodge on the sea front. It was around here that we learned that a sign advertising “WC” actually meant “no toilets here”. Having found no toilets, despite the advertising, we were dissuaded from entering Tonya’s Café as there was risk of castration (or something similar) if we dared to use her toilets without buying breakfast. It appears also that petrol stations in this area (despite calling themselves Service Stations) also do not have public toilets. We were told that the public toilets were at Tesco.

The bridge into Sunderland reminded us of the Tyne bridge in Newcastle. The prettier part of the town is Roker where there are attractive houses facing a nice bay. Once again, like Sutton Carew, a large restaurant “The Buddha” dominates and seriously lowers the tone of the town.

At Whitburn we were surprised to see a windmill and indeed two people riding on horses, probably as small farms are now in evidence. There is a lighthouse and a nice view up the coast.

Thank goodness for Tesco. Not only did they provide us with toilets but also some nice cinnamon buns and information as to the cost of the Tyne Tunnel toll fee. We needed to have the exact change to throw into the basket to allow us through the barrier – and there were no signs advising how much to pay until you got to the toll gates!

At Whitley Bay I was reminded of the Captain of the Seabourn Legend who I had met on a cruise. He said he had moved to Whitley Bay on the advice of Cliff Richard who had been on board his ship. Cliff had told him of a wonderful place to live in the North East. All he could remember was that the name began with “Whit”. He drove to the North East and asked around for which town it might be. A women in a service station said it might be Whitley Bay. That sounded right so he went there and asked his wife to find them a house while he was travelling. It was only later that he found out Cliff had said Whitby, not Whitley Bay! I don’t know where he is living now. Whitley Bay though is actually a nice place with a good sea front and a splendid lighthouse at St Marys.

St Marys Lighthouse, Whitley Bay

Blyth, further on, could be as nice as Whitley Bay but does not quite seem to have made it and appears to have given itself over to a big funfair. At Newbiggin-by-the-Sea we noticed the strangely advertised, family boxing club. Perhaps its better to fight it out with gloves on than with kitchen utensils!

Druridge Bay, just past Cresswell power station is the start of the glorious Northumberland Heritage Coast and the end of the industrial and mining towns. This was the second half of our day; we had entered “Vera” country. For the next 30 miles we were bowled over by the beauty of the coast and the pretty towns and villages, such as Craster and Newton-by-the-sea. When the imposing castle at Bamburgh hoves into view you just have to stop and reach for your camera. The castle is privately owned by the Armstrong family. A castle has stood on this spot since 420AD! The other side of the village is Budie Bay, which opens out to a glorious wide expanse of beach.

Bamburgh Castle

Our final destination was Holy Island with its ruined priory and the castle of Lindisfarne. We were fortunate in that the tide was out and we were able to drive across the Causeway to the island. If you mistime it you have to abandon your car to the sea and take to a refuge tower. As the notice warning you as you begin the journey says “the responsibility is yours”!

It was here that the sun came out and dramatically highlighted the beauty of this place. It was originally the home of St Aidan a monk from St Columbas Abbey on the Island of Iona (which I will be visiting in about one week) in Scotland. On the day Aidan died a youth of seventeen, named Cuthbert, claimed to have had a vision saying that he should train as a monk and take on the work of St Aidan. Cuthbert after a number of years of training came to Holy Island and was instrumental in the spread of Christianity. He was highly revered and when he died he was buried on the island. After 10 or so years his body was exhumed. The idea being that his flesh would have decayed and his bones could be accessed and used as reliquaries and sent to many churches. However on digging him up they found that his flesh had not decayed and his joints were as pliable as if he were still alive. This proved to everyone that he was truly a saint. Many years later, because of threats of Viking invasion, his body was moved and now lies in Durham in the cathedral church built to venerate his resting place.

Holy Island

Lindisfarne Castle was built in 1550 at the time that the Priory was abandoned and many of the Priory stones were used in building the castle. It was remodeled by Edwin Lutyens (with garden by Gertrude Jekyll) between 1906 and 1912 on behalf of the publisher of Country Life magazine who then owned it. The castle passed into the hands of the National Trust in 1944.

We spent three hours walking around the island and village and ended our day by participating in the service of Evening Prayer in St Mary’s Church adjacent to the ruined priory. This has within it a huge and magnificent carving, made from tree trunks, of 6 monks carrying the coffin of St Cuthburt.