August 24, 2015: Fenwick to Lindisfarne

Seascape and skyscape as we approach the coast after Fenwick.

There was no need for an early start today – not because we had only six miles or so to walk but because the route to Lindisfarne is strongly affected by the tides and we knew it would be noon or so before we could attempt a crossing. The extra time, since we did not go down to breakfast until 9:00, enabled me to come up with an acceptable plan for the disposal of my mud-spattered walking trousers. I couldn’t risk showering the carpets with any more alluvial deposits but I didn’t have to since these trousers have detachable legs – I could unzip these gingerly and complete the day’s stint in shorts.

It was, indeed, a bright sunny day and after we had returned from breakfast for some nice mid-morning relaxation we lathered up with sunblock and at 10:45 or so made our preparations to depart. For the next couple of miles or so St Cuthbert’s Way would continue to co-exist with the Northumberland Coast Walk and that meant that I would again be revisiting scenes from 2011 – and I knew that this would be an easy task to accomplish.

We headed east, through Fenwick village, and crossed a busy A-1 to reach Fenwick Granary. As we took a number of lanes and tracks we passed a ruined farmstead and headed toward the coastline in increasingly flat fields. One famous obstacle was soon reached in the form of the railway’s mainline – where great care needs to be taken in crossing the tracks since trains arrive at very high speeds. Indeed while we were looking both ways a train thundered south in front of us – and then a second one, heading north, did so as well.

On the other side we crossed a field, gradually shifting our direction to the north, where a caravan encampment was lined up next to a row of hedges. Anti-tank concrete blocks accompanied us a short distance in muddy circumstances and we passed through them to find dryer footing on the other side. Already we could see that, well before the announced time for a safe crossing, cars were using the paved causeway to Holy Island; now we knew that we could turn right on this surface ourselves without further delay.

The Pilgrim’s Route to Holy Island.

There are in fact two choices offered the walker for this crossing. You can stick to the roadway, often an uncomfortable squeeze when cars are heading in both directions or, after several hundred yards, you can take to the sands for a more direct route to the Lindisfarne parking lot, utilizing the so-called “Pilgrim’s Route.” Gavan was determined to follow the latter – whose line of march was signaled by a series of tall poles embedded in the sand – and at the appropriate moment he took his boots off in order to walk in bare feet. It was an emotional moment for him. I kept my boots on, noting that far ahead of us were the retreating figures of the Broussine family.

In theory the route across the sands is supposed to be slightly shorter than that offered by the motor road but that assumes a straightforward progress. On this morning, with the tide retreating only slowly, there were many moments when diversionary tactics were needed to circumvent standing water. Once again I was thankful to be wearing waterproof boots. There really weren’t that many people out here on this morning and this was certainly a unique way to end a walk – and a very beautiful way to complete the hour needed for the passage to Chare Ends, just a short distance from Lindisfarne village. I can’t tell whether it was the flies who had buzzed over us at many points on the previous day’s march or some sand-loving insect at work now but I did end this trip with quite a series of bites on my bare arms.

It seemed unfair that a family of day-tripping tourists were having a picnic in the one spot where it might have been nice to have a sit down as we climbed from the sands. Gavan had to put his boots back on and there was a useful if narrow pavement to follow as we headed briefly uphill and turned right with the motor road. Here cars were hunting for a place to park and the way forward was crowded by visitors, dogs, baby carriages and mobility scooters. We threaded our way through this lot and wound our way through the flower-bedecked streets of Lindisfarne in search of our hotel. It was shortly after 2:00 but we learned that our bags had not arrived yet and that the kitchen of the Manor House Hotel had just closed.

So we would have to make do with some packets of crisps as we sat on easy chairs in the hotel’s lounge and sipped our congratulatory beer. Under very fortunate weather conditions (only one day of rain) we had completed all 63 miles of St Cuthbert’s Way and, at 77, I suppose I could be particularly grateful that I was still physically able to undertake such a mission. Gavan was already talking about a suitable venue for a similar venture next summer.

At the end of the route, Lindisfarne Abbey.

Our bags arrived and we made the long climb to the top floor where we had a glorious room with views of the castle at one end of the island and of the village below us from a second window. We had a bit of a cleanup and then took on the role of tourist ourselves, visiting the Abbey museum and gift shop (where I made several purchases), the impressive Abbey ruins and St. Mary’s Church. I then went back to our room for a pre-dinner rest, meeting Gavan at a nearby pub – where he was deep in conversation with the castle bagpiper, Sean.

The latter and his chubby chocolate Lab accompanied us in the twilight of a town from which the other tourists, fearing the return of the tide, had all fled. We were seeking the street on which our evening meal would be secured but here Gavan also wandered into the studio of John Tierney, whose paintings of local scenes so excited him that he bought a painting of the famous Pilgrim’s Route sands with their iconic marking poles. Across the street was the Ship Inn, where Gavan had made a reservation (days ago) after a thorough study of Trip Advisor recommendations. This was a nice place but the food was no different from that enjoyed at many another hostelry. I had my last haddock and chips.

The final moments of a glorious sunset bathed our room and Gavan insisted we leave the curtains undrawn so that he could experience an equally impressive sunrise. I don’t know if he did or not but I do know it was again sunny on the morning of Tuesday, August 25.

We had arranged for a taxi to get us off the island at 8:30 – buses would have been of no use to us since they couldn’t get us back to Berwick-on-Tweed before the causeway was again inundated. So we took our bags down with us at 8:00 and had our last breakfast of the trip; Gavan had the kippers but I made do with a solitary croissant. Then Gavan had to find someone who would take his money for our bar bill and soon we were off on our return trip to Berwick.

Gavan was, in fact, on his way to Edinburgh, where he intended to fly to Ireland to visit family for two nights before returning to London for two more nights with me. He had almost an hour to wait but I was in time to take the 9:12 for King’s Cross. I hadn’t known what train I would be taking and therefore had no seat reservation and I was a bit worried by this – but after Gavan had lifted my case onto the vestibule of one of the rear carriages I shuffled down the aisle and found an unclaimed seat and signaled to my friend, who was following my progress from the platform, that I would be okay.

At Newcastle an elderly gent took the window seat I had disdained. He coughed, snuffled and said, “Pardon me” for the next three hours. I listened to music on my iPod and worked on a puzzle – it was a tedious journey, though the train was even early in London. Unfortunately it was raining here and there was a long taxi queue; all of us could have been accommodated under cover if someone had moved a few gates in the taxi walkway but, without this, latecomers were left in the wet. I was happy to get home and I knew that it would not be long before my puppy, Otto, was returned to me. “You know what the greatest comfort of home is,” I had told Gavan after a number of disconcerting incidents on this trip, “it’s the one place where you know you won’t have to hold the toilet set up while taking a pee.”

Footpath Index:

England: A Chilterns Hundred | The Chiltern Way | The Cleveland Way | The Coast-to-Coast Path | The Coleridge Way | The Cotswold Way | The Cumberland Way | The Cumbria Way | The Dales Way | The Furness Way | The Green London Way | The Greensand Way | The Isle of Wight Coast Path | The London Countryway | The London Outer Orbital Path | The Norfolk Coast Path | The North Downs Way | The Northumberland Coast Path | The Peddars Way | The Pennine Way | The Ridgeway Path | The Roman Way | The Saxon Shore Way | The South Downs Way | The South West Coast Path | The Thames Path | The Two Moors Way | The Vanguard Way | The Wealdway | The Westmorland Way | The White Peak Way | The Yorkshire Wolds Way