The Northumberland Coast Path – Day 3

June 9, 2011: Craster to Seahouses

Tosh approaches Dunstanburgh Castle

Tosh approaches Dunstanburgh Castle

They seemed to have forgotten that packed lunches are a part of every Mickledore booking – and so a Cottage Inn menu was delivered as we sat down for our breakfast on the third day of our walk – and we selected our sandwich fillings. We did not depart the lovely grounds of this hotel until about 9:40, but we were happy to see sunny skies again.

At the end of the crunchy drive we turned left, passed beneath an arch and took to back roads as we gradually rounded a corner and descended into Craster village itself. Tosh wanted her newspaper fix and headed off to the right while I stood in front of a little harbor that had once made this town the kippered herring capital of Northumberland. It took Tosh forever to return (paperless) and she was prefigured by a village lady who said, “Now she’s photographing lobster pots.”

The coast path lead us in the direction of a dramatic ruin, that of Dunstanburgh Castle, which we passed on its inland side – following the ups and downs of a narrow footway in the dunes. I paused many times for photography. Then it was more golf course walking; how many times were we warned to be wary of flying golf balls – were the golfers supposed to be watching out for low flying walkers?

At Dunstan Steads, our three-mile mark, we took to the beach, Embleton Bay on our right. It was all quite lovely but my stomach problems persisted and I faced the additional difficulty of uncooperative trousers – my brown cords would gradually slide from my hips as the weight of my back pack took control – with only the tightest hole on my belt able to do anything about the problem at all. It was with some relief that we pulled opposite Low Newton-by-the-sea – where I expected to uncover a pub.

The Ship at Low Newton-by-the-sea

The Ship at Low Newton-by-the-sea

This proved to be The Ship, a very popular site today indeed. There were many tables in the grass outside this establishment, all occupied, so we took seats at an interior table and Tosh joined a long queue of visitors who were seeking food and drink. I had just a Diet Coke. At any rate, it was nice to have a sit down for half an hour or so but soon we were making our way over a headland and on to another golfing site (peacocks in the background) where we returned to the beach at the back of Beadnell Bay.

We passed a woman who was furiously winding up a ball of string while her man undertook the special responsibility of lying flat atop the attached kite. It was very windy. We were now approaching a tern colony and soon we could see a ranger with a red flag waving to walkers, like ourselves, who needed to be closer to the shore so as leave nesting birds undisturbed. We now had an exhilarating crossing of Long Nanny Burn, with some time spent in searching for a spot where we might wade through without getting our boots too wet. Tosh seemed to be in conversation with half a dozen other walkers hereabouts – perhaps she was asking them about the mysterious worms uncovered by the retreating tide.

Tosh wades across the outflow at Beadnell Bay

Tosh wades across the outflow at Beadnell Bay

Our goal was now Beadnell Harbour and I spent a lot of time studying various escape routes – watching to see what the other walkers were doing. Perhaps Tosh should have been watching me for she got herself trapped in a road that had no egress into the parking lot above the beach and had to go back a bit. The lot was full of vans selling food and drink but more precious to me were some civic loos, which I visited while Tosh stood outside.

There was some hope for another place of refuge in Beadnell, whose roads we now traversed, but we were deeply disappointed – nothing but seedy bungalows, often with for sale signs attached. We used pavements to head north and I found a little post office where we could sit down on a bench. Across the street was a really attractive two-story beach house in Bauhaus style but no one would call the next stretch of the walk attractive. We did have our own paved cycleway – but it was never far removed from the highway. I was growing weary, measuring progress with the attainment of the next signpost or shrub. At last, after reaching yet another golf course, we were given our own footpath – which headed back to the sea, through caravan land, and so down to the harbor of our night’s destination, Seahouses.

We walked around the head of the harbor in preparation for an adventure that I had booked for the next day – a voyage to the Farne Islands aboard one of Captain Billy Shiels’s boats. Satisfied that we could find this spot on the morrow we then repaired to the lounge of the Bamburgh Castle Inn at 4:00; here we had some coffee.

Then it was time to trudge through the spiritless streets of Seahouses itself, following Mickledore’s own map along the main street until, opposite an elementary school, we drew even with our small b&b establishment, Rowena. Our landlady showed us to our rooms (no en suite) and we asked for her advice on where to eat. I had a shower, a bit of a nap, read some of my articles and called the next night’s landlady

Tonight’s hostess recommended the Links Hotel, around the corner, and here we reported at 7:00 or so. We ordered drinks while a place was made for us in the crowded dining room and then we moved to our places. A couple on our right were eating here for the fourth time this week – so this seemed like a good recommendation. I had the scampi and chips and Tosh the haddock. The food was good and there was a lot of it. It was interesting to note that here, as in many of the other eateries and pubs on this trip, almost all the customers were old folks like ourselves. Tosh began to worry about the survival of these places under such circumstances. There was still plenty of daylight as we made our way back to the b&b, let ourselves in with a key, and headed for another early night.

To continue with the next stage of our walk you need:

Day 4: Seahouses to Belford