Cleveland Way Coastal section: some comments

The Cleveland Way has two halves, an inland section including moors and hills, and a coastal part. In this blog I just walked the 51 miles along the North Sea coast (also part of the England Coast Path). 

Along the coast the Cleveland Way is a path mainly located on the top of the cliffs that extend from Saltburn to Filey. On one side the ground drops away to the sea, on the other, fields stretch away into the distance. Although usually unfenced the path is never so close to the edge as to make it precarious and there is no fear of vertigo. However, probably not the best trail for people contemplating a messy suicide.

As a coastal path some might think there is not much climbing or descending. In this they would be incorrect. Streams and small rivers cut into the landscape creating narrow valleys down which you must go only to immediately ascend the other side. Steps and stairs have often been installed to assist, otherwise the path would become a muddy slide, however I found many of the steps rather high. My stiff knees had trouble bending sufficiently. The valleys were often wooded with low contorted trees, devoid of leaves when I walked the route.

There are a few sandy beaches such as at Scarborough and Runswick Bay. Around valleys and beaches there were often towns and villages, and maybe small harbours. Whitby, Robin Hoods Bay and Staithes retain the narrow streets, steep hills and ancient terraced buildings that look cute on photos, and in consequence the first two were full of tourists. Scarborough and Filey were towns largely designed for tourists in Victorian times with offerings spread along their promenades. 

There is a little history ranging from Scarborough castle, to remains of Alum quarrying and Second World War defences. Information boards were good at describing historical context where no visible remains could be seen, as far example with Roman signalling forts. 

Being a popular holiday area there are plenty of cafes, restaurants and places to sleep, although they are not evenly spaced so planning is needed. Waymarking is good and navigation is generally a matter of keeping the sea on your left (if heading south).

I walked as March turned into April and many parts of the path were muddy and slippery. This was after the wettest March in 40 years. Later in the year conditions will be better. There were gulls (apparently including kittiwakes), crows and on my last day skylarks to watch and listen to, and daffodils, primroses and blackthorn blossom to keep a spring in my step, as well as a few sculptures. 

Maybe not the most dramatic of Britain's coast paths, but pleasant nevertheless. 

Scarborough to Filey: E2 Day 69

A sunny day through holiday towns, by beaches and on cliff top paths.

I began by climbing up to Scarborough Castle ruins. Dating from the 12th century the castle has a prominent, and for medieval warfare, an easily defensible position. Turner, the artist, was inspired by the romantic ruins, making several watercolours of them. Unfortunately the portcullis was down when I reached its gates, and not due to open until later in the day, so I continued on my way down to Scarborough's small harbour. Around the promenade that bordered the beach, the streets were full of ice cream stalls, fish and chip shops, gift shops and amusement arcades fighting for the tourists' money. For the visitor looking for something more adventurous fishing expeditions and speedboat rides were on offer ("speed, beauty and power" the advert claimed). Scarborough has long been a tourist town, especially with the arrival of the railway in the 19th century. I saw an advert for a donkey ride beneath the massive Victorian Grand Hotel, but no donkeys, a pity as this would have fitted the image of an old British holiday resort along with the old funicular railway carrying people up and down the cliff.

Scarborough, the Grand Hotel is to the left.

The curve of sand was a long one and I followed it to its rocky end on the Cleveland Way. A detour was advised at high tide at the end of the beach but the tide was well out as I walked by. The next few miles were somewhat up and down with steps to assist in places. I was walking on some wooded slopes as well as beside fields and caravan parks. At one point a man on a bicycle stopped to point out the remains of a trawler that had been wrecked on the rocks. Only its boiler was visible and only now it was low tide. Cayton beach spread out beside me for a while, another long expanse of sand.

Path approaching Cayton beach.

People on the beach as seen from the cliff top path.

As I hiked the final miles of cliff top, Scarborough was intermittently visible behind me, getting progressively smaller. The town could still be seen from Filey Brigg, a sliver of land poking out into the sea, blessed with drifts of daffodils on one side. Filey Brigg also marked the end of the Cleveland Way and the start of the Yorkshire Wolds Way, the next part of the E2, which will take me inland tomorrow. A stone sculpture with the National Trails Acorn marked the beginning and end of these trails.

Like Scarborough, Filey was another tourist town, with a long curving promenade, sandy beach, fast food, ice cream and gift shops. On the south side of town I thought the Crescent Gardens looked particularly attractive, with beds of hyacinths, backed by a terrace of grand, white Victorian houses.

Filey.

As the weather is fine and to save a few pounds I am camping tonight. A lonely tent, most people preferring the comfort of motorhomes and caravans.

Whitby to Scarborough: E2 Day 68

A long day on the cliff tops with weather better than on recent days.

I had a choice today, a two or three hour walk to Robin Hood's Bay or a 21 mile walk to Scarborough there being no available accommodation between. Choosing the latter option I was soon leaving the romantic ruins of Whitby Abbey behind. Patches of sunshine brightened the day in contrast to the recent grey days. The foam of the breaking waves was turned a brilliant white against a grey sea.

Whitby Abbey, the ruins date from the 13th century but the original monastery was founded in 657 and was an important religious centre.

Again almost all the day was along a path on edge of the cliffs. Near Whitby flowers and notes to deceased family members had been tied to the fence. Was this another place chosen by those who wished to end their life? 

In places there was a terrace, a flatter area half way down the cliff, maybe where a layer of softer rock had eroded more quickly. Such terraces were clothed with bracken, grass and small trees. In other parts, I could see a flat area of rock, cut by the waves, extending out from the bottom of the cliff, only visible as the tide was out. Rocky coves, only accessible by the sea, looked like places seals might visit. I looked but could not see any. Gulls hung on the rising air by the cliffs. I speculated as to whether they were looking for food or just enjoying the sensation of flight? Then I thought of the gulls looking at me and others walking along the path and thinking the same thoughts. The path had some very muddy sections, I could see the marks made by sliding feet, and carefully placed my own to avoid slipping over. There were several flights of steps, down one side of steep sided valleys and up the other sides. Due to the height of some of the steps I was having trouble bending my knees enough to safely descend them. Sights of interest included the remains of a Second World War radar station, vital for detecting approaching bombers. I could see waves breaking on offshore reefs so I was not surprised to see a lighthouse. There were several benches beside the path, some dedicated to departed loved ones. One dedicated to the president of the Scarborough Ramblers even had a little garden planted behind it with solar powered lights for any visitors after dark.

Cleveland Way. 

I reached Robin Hood's Bay a little after 11 o'clock. Its narrow streets were crowded with visitors and shops designed for tourists. Up an alleyway I found a café for coffee and a raspberry and white chocolate tart. Under the tables lay dogs, obediently quiet but eyeing up each other and any new canine arrivals. Plenty of dogs were on the path too, enjoying a run and sniff in the Sunday sunshine, but one pup was too timid to come passed me. His owner picked him up and I offered him my hand to smell to show I was not a threat. He seemed pleased by the discovery.

Ravenscar was just after the ruins of an Alum works. Once planned as a town for holiday makers, a project that was unsuccessful, there was now a National Trust café, which gave me another excuse for a rest. My feet where feeling the strain, and my knees were having trouble bending and I was still only half way to Scarborough. 

However I did eventually reach the town, walking along the promenade in front of brightly coloured beach huts while families lingered on the beach playing ball or exercising dogs. My Bed & Breakfast was at the top of the green slope rising from the prom.. I was glad to arrive and rest my throbbing feet. Later I found a Czech café for dinner, the only one in Yorkshire according to Daniel the owner, although I regretted not being more adventurous in my menu choice. Next time I will have the chicken breast wrapped in a potato pancake!

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.

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.