Staithes to Whitby: E2 Day 67

Another murky day walking along cliff tops above a turbulent sea.

Leaving the attractive, narrow cobbled streets, old terraced houses and harbour of Staithes, I began the steep climb back up to the cliff tops. Mist again hung in the sky, wind blown drizzle occasionally caused me to pull up my jacket hood. Looking down from the path, way below me on the muddy sea, the wind threw streamers of white foam. Waves broke into white spray as the rollers grew then collapsed on their approach to the shore. Vertical rock extended down from the cliff's top, below which landslipped rock, jumbled outcrops and terraces of shale often spread out above the sea. In places slopes of unstable clay topped the layered rock faces, on which grass and plants made a temporary home. I imagined slipping down the wet clay desperately trying to stop before dropping over the cliff edge into oblivion. A few seagulls hung in the air on currents forced upwards when the easterly wind, racing across the sea, hit the abruptly rising land.

The sea beneath the cliffs.

More people were about today, being Saturday I suppose, when dogs are taken for longer walks, and families, friends and walking groups coalesce for a breezy hike. As on the section I walked yesterday, informative notice boards spoke of iron mining, iron works and alum shale quarrying, activities that once took place in the area. Runswick Bay was a small settlement with a beachfront café (of which I took advantage) at the base of a steep descent. At the far end of the sandy bay there were "caves" called Hob Holes, the result of mining for jet, a black mineral used in local jewellery. Just after these excavations the Cleveland Way turns up a narrow gully, over wet shale. Fortunately steep steps have been cut to take you out of the gully and back to the top of the cliffs, any alternative would have been slippery and muddy.

Entrance to gully at far end of Runswick Beach. 

Whenever I walk the gorse always seems to be in flower.

Sandsend was the next settlement, located on the seafront after a section of trail on an old railway line. After the village the Cleveland Way follows the road. As I walked parked cars and campervans were on one side of me and the raging sea and later a calm golf course on my other side. As the outskirts of Whitby came in sight I joined a path beside the houses which sat at the top of a groomed grass slope leading down to a promenade and the sea. The houses become guesthouses, and the walkway reached an art installation representing a house shelled in 1914, complete with unexploded shell. Curiously the noticeboard did not say who did the shelling, why or when. A little beyond was a statue of Captain Cook, the local lad who made good, at least in the eyes of the British Empire. Spotting a gap between people's photography, I walked beneath a whalebone arch and headed down towards the harbour area. Being well past my lunch time and associating Whitby with fish and chips, I entered the first place offering such food. Foolishly I had not checked the prices first. It was very expensive fish, chips, mushy peas and bread and butter, good but no better (and the batter maybe less crunchy) than fish and chips from less expensive, less pretentious places. I suppose the view of waves crashing through the breakwater added to the cost.

Captain Cook.

After a little wander with the many tourists by the remaining fishing boats moored in the harbour, and among the jet jewellers, gift shops and traditional shop fronts of the narrow cobbled streets south of the river, I climbed the many steps to the ruins of Whitby Abbey. Tucked in beside the abbey was the Whitby Youth Hostel where I have booked a bed for the night in an old, rambling building with views back down to Whitby.

Guisborough to Staithes: E2 Day 66

A very misty day on which I reached the North Sea and walked along the top of high cliffs.

Guisborough high street, where I found my breakfast, looked part of a typical rural, market town, in contrast to nearby Middlesbrough. Of ancient foundation its ruined priory (closed while I was in town) dated from the 12th century. Three kilometres away I rejoined the Cleveland Way at the point I had left it yesterday.

After some woods I crossed a busy road which was taking advantage of a gap in the hills, then began a steep climb up steps to the next ridge. This took me into cloud, and I spent most of the day enclosed in white, wet mist. A track through open fields led to Skelton Green and shortly after Skelton-in-Cleveland, where there was a café, conveniently placed by the Cleveland Way to serve me coffee and cake. 

The path then took me down the steep valley of Skelton Beck and under the red brick, Saltburn railway viaduct. Looking up from the footbridge over the brook the arches looked enormous, the masonry piers edged with yellow lichen below brick towers becoming increasingly slender as they rose higher, an elegant piece of Victorian engineering. 

Saltburn railway viaduct.

Saltburn sits on a shoulder above the end of the glen. The Cleveland Way skirts this seaside town, crossing the valley by the beach before climbing steeply up steps the other side to begin its 51 mile trip along the coast to its terminal at Filey. Some may idly think that coast paths do not involve much climbing there being no mountains. In this they are mistaken. While the Cleveland Way is not the roller coast ride of parts of the South West Coast Path, there are a number of steep climbs as it drops down into a valley only to climb up the other side. From the high ground I could look down on Saltburn pier and the waves of muddy water building up offshore before sweeping in to attack the coast. Following the steep climb out of Saltburn the path was nearly level for several miles, running close to the edge of the high cliffs. Notices left by "Paul" with motivating messages and the telephone number of the Samaritans suggested it was a popular spot for those wishing to end their life by jumping off the cliff. There was a message to Liam from his little sister telling him how much he will be missed, and that she hoped he was having a good time in heaven. It brought tears to my eyes.

View back to Saltburn before all was hidden by mist.

For a while the path ran between the cliff edge and a single track railway line. I was glad that when the railway squeezed the path against the steep drop, there was a fence to prevent you accidentally slipping over. Two metal sculptures added interest as they appeared in the mist.

A sculpture on the Cleveland Way. 

In time the path dropped down into Skinningrove via a long beach where a couple braved the wet wind to walk their dogs. A large breakwater was connected to the remains of a ramp, remnants of when iron ore was mined in the Cleveland Hills and shipped out from the harbour. In the village, up the valley a little, there was a mining museum. However I stayed by the sea, skirting the line of wind blown houses and small, aging fishing boats. Another steep climb followed to regain the high ground. Even after the first steep ascent the path continued to climb rising up over now abandoned alum quarries, invisible in the mist below me. All I could see from my cliff top path was a vertical rock face dropping down to my left, topped with loose turf. In some places, a thick layer of clay topped the rock strata so that the ground below the cliff top was merely very steep, wet and unstable rather than actually vertical. The wind was coming in strong gusts and I was glad it was blowing onshore rather than trying to push me off the cliff into white emptiness.

In time the path began to descend. A metal table with a metal miner stood beside the path, and I joined him for a rest. The sculpture was a reference to the Boulby mine which was excavating the evaporite sediments left by an ancient sea. Its tunnels extended deep (up to 1400 metres) beneath me and out under the sea. Formerly mining potash the main product is now polyhalite, a mineral used as a fertiliser. 

My tired feet were glad to reach Staithes, an attractive old village squashed into a steep valley around a harbour. I was less happy when I discovered my room for the night was in a pub, a steep climb up the road in a more recent part of the village. However the room is large and warm, with dinner a few steps down the stairs.

Staithes.

Some comments on Teesdale Way

The Teesdale Way is a pleasant riverside path. Officially starting at Dufton, it follows the Pennine Way as far as Middleton-in-Teesdale. These comments are confined to the trail after it leaves the Pennine Way.

From Middleton-in-Teesdale the route follows the tree lined river, deviating over fields in places. Mostly along paths, muddy in places, there are occasional short road sections. Although there are no long climbs there are brief ascents and descents up and down the river bluffs or nearby hills. Stairs have been built to assist in places. Walking was easy compared with my earlier hike on the Pennine Way. Periodic villages offer some facilities, and the towns of Barnard Castle, Darlington and the area around Middlesborough have everything you might require. Paths are often available both sides of the river, waymarked with the Teesdale Way dipper symbol, offering the potential for scenic, circular day walks. Spread throughout the Teesdale Way adding interest are sculptures, some small and others much larger.

The last part of the Teesdale Way that I followed was through the urban and industrial landscape of Stockton-on-Tees and Middlesbrough. Many people dislike industry (although enjoying its fruits) however I find the big works of engineering impressive. These included the various bridges of unusual design and the large Billingham chemical works. 

Accommodation is available every night. Although waymarking is generally good, a map or GPS is needed as not all junctions are marked. Due to the river's meanders this is not a direct route, and many miles are spent following the river's elegant curves.

Teesdale Way blog starting from Middleton-in-Teesdale,

Middlesbrough to Guisborough: E2 Day 65

Another long day but an interesting one with industrial sights, cafes and ridge top views.

Returning to the Teesdale Way through the terraced streets of Middlesbrough I stopped at a cafe for a breakfast coffee. No menu was visible so I just had a latte. Other men came in and greeted the man serving with the Arabic  "Salam". They had something served with flatbread. Although it looked attractive I was still full from the pizza and cookie dough dessert I had yesterday so I did not investigate. 

There were two large roundabouts to negotiate today, with long waits for the "green man" at each of the several lanes of traffic I had to cross. I had imagined the north east to be less prosperous than it once was in Britain's industrial heyday, but the volume of traffic suggested plenty of activity. On the opposite side of the river from the Teesdale Way I could see the large Billingham chemical works, still in operation although no longer as part of ICI, a great British company that has ceased to exist. I was curious about the purpose of some of the huge structures, but could find nothing to educate me from a brief internet search. One of the great monuments to engineering on this section of river was the Tees Transporter bridge. Similar to one in Newport, Wales, vehicles are carried over the river on a gondola suspended by cables from a trolley than ran along a structure of girders bridging the river high above the water. Unfortunately it was closed for due to structural issues, hopefully it will one day return to operation. Other riverside sights included a seal sculpture and a much larger work of art consisting of two huge metal rings joined by a network of wires. Less abstract were the representations of large dinosaurs and other prehistoric reptiles in Teessaurus Park. The Port of Middlesbrough looked busy enough. I was curious about a vessel with a helideck, it was so high up at the bow that I wondered how stable it would be even in moderate seas.

Tees Transporter Bridge, not showing the gondola that hangs below the main span as the bridge was sadly closed when I walked by.

Stegosarous in undergrowth of Middlesbrough.

Leaving the Teesdale Way several miles before it ended at Redcar, I turned onto the Tees Link. This links to the Cleveland Way National Trail which I reached at the end of the afternoon. At first the Tees Link ran by car showrooms (and the Tees café where I enjoyed an egg and sausage roll) but soon it followed a green corridor of land between housing. Progressively I eased from an urban landscape to a rural one with birds twittering in nearby hawthorn bushes. Initially the route was strewn with litter, dog poo and bags of dog poo hung on branches but in time I reached a wooded hillside by my third café of the day (Coke and Magnum ice cream). There were plenty of dogs about, not always attentive to their owners repeated commands. I would have liked to have petted them but thought this would only encourage their errant behaviour. 

As I climbed large areas of Middlesbrough and surrounding towns came into view. I was transfixed by the emerging vistas reaching a summit with a splendid panorama, spread out in front of me under regions of sunlight and shade made by clouds drifting across the sky. Unfortunately the summit was not on my route. Returning to the path added an extra kilometre or so to my day.

View down to Redcar.

Dropping down to the valley beyond I joined a trail running along a railway line shut down by the infamous Beeching cuts of the 1960's. My fourth café (coffee and scone) was in a nature reserve visitor centre by an old station. Nearby there were several large animals carved out of wood. A few kilometres beyond that I had a dilemma. My digital resources showed two different routes for the Tees Link. I vacillated between the two and a third option of taking the shortest route to my accommodation for the night. Rather arbitrarily I picked one of the Link routes that took me steeply up to a ridge. A sign later showed me it was the wrong choice. I consoled myself that it was not any shorter than the correct route, although probably less muddy. Both options took me to an outcrop of rock, high on the hillside, where I joined the Cleveland Way and entered the North York Moors National Park. For the next hour or two I followed the ridgeline with splendid views down to Guisborough, Redcar with its industry and the sea with its wind turbines. As I did not want to climb up the ridge again in the morning I followed it to where it lost height, well to the east of the Inn where I had booked to stay. This meant I ended the day with a trudge back to Guisborough making my day another rather long and tiring one.

Middleton-One-Row to Middlesbrough: E2 Day 64

A long day following the many meanders of the Tees.

For much of the day the Teesdale Way ran close by the river, although the water was often obscured by trees which lined its banks. The river looked dark, deep and dangerous, with hidden undercurrents. Steep, tree lined slopes had been created on the outside arc of meanders where the flowing water had cut into the surrounding, undulating countryside. As the river eroded the landscape over thousands of years it moved sideways leaving a slightly sloping floodplain on the inside of the curves cut by the flow. Apart from the wooded slopes on the outside of the river's bends, all morning I was among farmland but change was approaching in the character of the riverside. The dividing point was perhaps Preston Park where I had lunch. There were a few sights of note in the morning. A round red brick building of obvious age but uncertain purpose. An old aircraft with no wings in a field which I only spotted because a dog walker pointed it out to me. There were also three sculptures which were part of the sculpture trail.

One of the public sculptures looking down on a river meander.

Path beside the Tees

In the afternoon the loops of the river became more extravagant, with areas of lakes, marsh and nature reserves within them. The wooded river bluffs faded and were replaced by urban sprawl. As the path followed the river around the meanders progress was prolonged. Often I was walking away rather than towards my destination for the night. My surroundings became increasingly urban. Initially the houses carefully stayed away from the low marshy ground around the river, but at Stockton-on-Tees the town came down to the riverside. Here the river's banks had been tamed with steel piles. A pleasant promenade had been paved beside the water. Pedestrians could cross to the opposite bank on a new, graceful, cable-stayed bridge. 

Beyond the town were a number of sights, the first was the Infinity Bridge, two arched bridge sections which when reflected in the water look like the infinity symbol. Today no reflections were visible. Next was the Tees Barrage. A large structure designed to keep the water level constant in the river upstream of it and to control flooding. Downstream the river is tidal. Integrated into the barrage is a white water centre where canoeists can slalom through artificial rapids. Sadly the centre was not in use when I passed and because some of the walkways were blocked I had a difficulty getting through it. Finally for today, there was the Newport bridge. A vertical lift bridge in which the road section was lifted to let taller ships through. Dating from 1934 it no longer lifts as larger vessels have stopped plying this part of the river. However in its lowered position it still used by road traffic and pedestrians such as myself crossing the Tees.

Tees Newport Bridge.

After crossing the bridge I made my way to my room for the night, through Middlesbrough's streets of terraced, brick housing with a variety of shops (Polish, Romanian) and cafes and takeaways (Arabic, Chinese) suggesting a cosmopolitan neighbourhood. My bed for the night is near the bold, modern buildings of Teeside University. From the grandeur of the buildings it looked like there was money in education, although I worried about their motto, "Ambition today". What could they deliver? Graduates today all too often do not get a job commensurate with their university costs. Nearby the Muslims, Salvation Army and Christadelphians had buildings, offering a different type of future.

Typical Middlesbrough street.

Although my 20 miles today is on the long side, I was more tired, with aching feet than I felt I should have been, especially as the elevation gain was not great. Maybe the lingering effect of my cold. As I get older infections seem more common and last longer than in my younger days. At least it was not only my left knee affected. My accommodation was not great, which was maybe why I drank two pints of beer at a nearby, convivial student pub in the evening rather than my usual one.

Darlington to Middleton-one-Row: E2 Day 63

Low point today was walking through liquid mud, high points were lunch and Devonport hotel.

As forecast the day was overcast, grey with showers of rain as I alternated between urban landscape and dull green fields of grass and leafy crops. Yet cherry trees in pretty pink blossom painted splashes of joy, and bright yellow drifts of daffodils on the roadside raised my mood. A forsythia bush which escaped pruning in the winter produced an explosion of yellow in a village garden, and an avenue of blackthorn, in white blossom funnelled me along a muddy path.

Cherry blossom on Stapleton green.

Daffodils beside the trail.

While many sections of path were in good condition and much of today's route was on quiet roads, in a few places, where hedge and fence forced people onto a narrow path, recent rains had created a quagmire of liquid mud. My new boots, bought specially for this trip, soon lost their pristine appearance beneath a coat of brown slurry.

Initially, after my return to the Broken Scar picnic area, the path followed the river closely. Now that the speed of the maturing river had slowed, it was dropping its pebbles to form islands. At one point the eroded riverbank, showed a layer of pebbles left by an earlier channel below layers of silt deposited as the river moved elsewhere across the floodplain. Later the Teesdale Way moved away from the river following quiet roads and tracks over low hills, before rejoining it at the end of the day on a steep wooded slope, where the river was wide and free of rocks.

After leaving the sprawl of Darlington I visited a number of red brick villages: Stapleton, Croft-on-Tees, Hurworth-on-Tees and Neasham. In Hurworth I lunched the Mustard Tree Café, located in the Methodist Church. As I ate a chickpea and avocado wrap, the half dozen people on the next table were all working on the same crossword, ending by exchanging answers, between greetings to other villagers passing their table. I felt I had trespassed on their little community.

My walk ended at the Devonport Hotel at a village with the curious name of Middleton-one-Row. Low grade pain from my knee during the day made me glad to have arrived at this settlement above the river bluff. I have a large room decorated well in a restrained manner with a powerful shower for which I did not have the usual wait for hot water. I can look out from my room onto the daffodils gracing the roadside. A simple stone sculpture, part of the Tees Sculpture Trail, is just out of view.

Return to Darlington: E2 Day 62

A return to Darlington to resume my walk on the E2.

After months toiling on the renovation of our house, with all the stresses, decisions and problems such work involves, I was looking forward to something completely different. Not that the project was finished, I felt guilty leaving my wife to deal alone with the workmen building our new garage. This was not my only worry restarting my travels. Two weeks earlier an opportunity arose to visit the North of England, and I thought I would fill in some spare time this trip offered by completing some training walks. The Yorkshire Three Peaks Challenge is a 40 kilometre circuit over three summits, Pen-y-Ghent, Whernside and Ingleborough, a hike I had long thought of completing. I successfully managed to complete it in under the requisite 12 hours despite the blustery wind threatening to push me over, and hard hitting rain. Scafell Pike, the highest mountain in England, was my next challenge. Again I succeeded despite snow and a near total lack of visibility. Thankfully I had my GPS for navigation and where they had not been obliterated by the wind, some footsteps to follow in the snow. My achievements in pitting myself against nature was undermined by a deterioration in my left knee. Fluid accumulated in the various bursas around the joint, limiting its movement. I had stupidly pushed too hard, too quickly. As I struggled across the snowy, slippery, surfaces on a boulder field near the summit of Scafell, the angle of the rocks and holes between them hidden by snow, I knew my knee would suffer from my stumbling into unseen cavities. The fluid filled cavities around my knee where not the only bursas to concern me. Probably as a result of work on our house I had developed a big bursa on my elbow. But these things were not my main health problem.

Somewhere I caught a cold, not a normal, common cold, but a hacking, cannot catch your breath, cannot stop coughing cold, complete with a painful throat. On the weekend, a week before my planned departure to Darlington, I had arranged a stall at the National Outdoor Expo in Birmingham's National Exhibition Centre. Here I extolled the benefits of the Long Distance Walkers Association (LDWA) and tried to sell copies of my book "Six Pairs of Boots: Spain to Cyprus on the E4 Trail" and the LDWA Recipe book. On Saturday I had reasonable success but by Sunday the combination of my cold and talking all the previous day meant I completely lost my voice. I was fortunate to be working with two other admirable members of the LDWA as I was reduced to a whispering, although I worried that I might pass my illness onto them, 

Recovery from my cold stalled and I worried my condition with deteriorate into a serious respiratory illness.  As a minimum I feared I would need to postpone my trip. However, as predicted by my wise wife, who is so often right, on Friday my health improved so that by Monday I felt well enough to begin the next section of my walk on the E2 as planned.

From Darlington where I ended my last trip the E2 continues down the Teesdale Way, before joining a succession of long distance paths to reach Harwich and the ferry for the Hook of Holland in the Netherlands. The most important of these trails were the Cleveland Way, Yorkshire Wolds Way, Viking Way, Hereward Way and Stour Valley Path.

The trip began with a railway journey back to Darlington. I had hoped to buy a coffee and sandwich for lunch on the train, however this involved scanning a QR code and signing onto the WiFi. As the latter involved providing a large amount of information unrelated to my choice of sandwich (my home address, full name and possibly the name of my first pet dog if I had got that far) I gave up in disgust. There was some mumbling on the loud speaker that may have referred to other catering options but to me it was intelligible. Instead, while munching on my emergency rations, I looked out at the flatlands north of Peterborough, which I hoped to be walking across in the few weeks time, as nearby hedgerows and fields flashed by.

I made up for my lack of lunch in the red brick town of Darlington with a rather large piece of cake, after which I bought some apples, guilty at such an unhealthy choice of food. Then I wondered around the centre of Darlington in the afternoon sun before retiring to my hotel with a takeaway to watch whatever was on TV.