25th - 26th March

25th March day 384

Waking up with the sun richard came to the station to pick me up and take me to meet up with ian at carnegie hall for a full English. A perfect start to what would turn out to be a perfect day. There were no clouds in the sky and with the high tide later that day at 3pm i had plenty of time to clock up as many miles as my legs would take me.

Leaving Workington i followed the stony shores to Whitehaven which is where Jonathan Swift was inspired to write the fictional tale of one man stumbling on a land if little people. The main character was called gulliver and the novel, gullivers travels.

My days adventure began as many others, with a lovely walk along a beach with a continuously changing landscape. One thing i particularly notice is the differentiating geology and today was no exception. Whilst i walked enjoying the sun and wishing i knew more about the rocks i was walking over i noticed a brick tunnel built into the low cliff face to my left. Richard had said I'd be passing a tunnel, he called it the german tunnel. As local legend had it the tunnel had been dug out and bricked up by german prisoners of war to allow salt water into the steel works that had once provided employment opportunities to the locals. Tunnels attract me like a mouse to cheese. I had to take a look. Although coastal erosion had collapsed part of the opening there was still enough roon for me to climb in side.

The tunnel was quite wide and about 2m high. It stretched back a fair distance too,  i couldn't see the far end but i wanted to know where it led. Using the light from my phone, as I'd left my head torch in my pack beyond the entrance, i set off looking for a surprise. The deeper i explored the darker it became. At the back of the tunnel, surprise, a doorway leading to a small room which had been filled with concrete. Gutted. That was my tunnel exploration over, turning about i headed back to the tunnel entrance and climbed back down to the shore.

I now knew i was hiking along the beach beneath where the old steel works once stood. Although i couldn't see the site I'd been told the factory had been closed and now demolished. In its heyday the steel works produced the finest steel in the world and was responsible for producing the majority of railway tracks not only in England but india as well.

There was quite a bit of coastal erosion along this stretch which was very apparent, coming across a large sea cave i had to stop to investigate. A layer of soft clay had been washed away beneath a layer of stone and rock forming a reasonable opening.  From the ceiling hung stalagmites formed from i would imagine,  salt crystals.

I only stopped for a few minutes before carrying on along the shore passing more concrete tunnels until i reached a small harbour. Chatting with one of the locals i was warned about the difficulties i could expect ahead and the dangers of the rising tide which were notorious for coming in quickly. It was a challenge i was happy to undertake.

With a slight sense of urgency i picked up the pace a little wanting to be sure I'd beat the tides and conquer this coastline. The rocky shore was easy to hike and with  tide coming in some of the beaches around small bays were narrowing inch by inch but still leaving plenty of room for me to pass. I was indeed beginning to run out of time. Whitehaven was now in sight but the tide was also almost completely in. The railway which had run above me on my left on top of a steep stone bank was looking more and more like my exit strategy should i find myself completely cut off.

The water was now beginning to lap at the boulders and the shore was completely submerged. I wasn't going to give up though and once again picked up the pace with a sense of urgency. Clambering over the boulders which were covered in a green slimy algae i had to be carefulof my footing.

The coast was now becoming more challenging with every passing moment and i still had a fair way to go. Gradually the waters began to cover the boulders and i was forced up onto the railways stone embankment where I'd have to traverse a slime covered stone wall the water a mere few inches below me and trains passing above. Keeping level headed and focussed on my goal i eventually reached a long sweeping beach.

The tide was now almost completely in which meant i wouldn't be able to hike the coastline any further.  It was a little disappointing but i was still very happy with the great progress I'd made and i was only a mere mile away from Whitehaven. It had been a fantastic day, bright and sunny, arriving in Whitehaven i b-lined it to the first costa i could find to grab a mega moca and take a well deserved break.

Leaving Whitehaven i followed the coastal path passing a tall chimney locally known as the candle stick. I also passed the old coal mines that had once employed so many on my way to st bees. The path climbed up onto the clifftops and as i hiked i found myself  looking down at the coast below. With the tide in it would have been impossible to navigate the coastline. With the tide out though i believe a successful coastal romp would be possible. As i arrived at st bees the sun was well and truly setting. From the top of the cliffs i could see the rnli station below, my shelter for the night. Jason was inside and after i was shown round i settled in.

26th March day 385

It was just past 8am when i heard a knock at the door of the boathouse. Putting my trousers on i left the operations  room and went to investigate. On opening the door i was greeted by a big smile and extended hand. It was dick. He'd waited for my arrival the evening before but i hadn't arrived until shortly after he'd headed off to work. Soon after jason popped over and the kettle was on for a morning coffee. Its always great to meet with the guys at the stations i visit and makes the journey far more interesting for me listening to the stories of courage and on occasion tragedy.

After a quick photo shoot and another mug jason took me to the beach cafe to treat me to a good breakfast filling me in with local history and more stories. The first submerged communication line was laid not far from the station to the isle of man and the anchor set in concrete just outside the boathouse had been recovered from a wreck not far away exactly 100 years after the boat sank by the crew whilst out on a training exercise.

Although the morning looked a little bleak by the time i had finished eating and got ready the skies had cleared and the sun was out. There was a light wind at my back and i dedcended onto the beach and began the long hike along the shores towards Sellafield nuclear power station. Initially i crossed a nicely packed sandy beach which soon turned rocky before ending up extremely stony. To be honest it was a pain hiking it but my spirits remained lifted as the sun warmed my face and the views continued to change.

I passed several quirky little communities of wooden buildings, some garden sheds and others, well, I'll say improvised. After a few miles hiking I eventually reached a river, the railway passed over it using an old bridge, i was going to also have to use the bridge. Much to my delight as i got closer i discovered a path that first went under and then alongside the tracks above.

Now on the right side of the river i needed to negotiate the Sellafield perimeter for a short distance, i wasn't sure if it was an official route but it suited me, which brought me out at the Sellafield railway station. I however really wanted to be back on the  other side of the tracks. With English  trespass laws now in place I'd have to be careful how i went about getting back to my beloved coast. The station certainly was not the right place to make the attempt, too many gazing eyes, too many "politically correct health and safety oh you can't do that" people.

Looking around I found a sign showing the way to the coastal cycle route and away from the power station. The cycle path followed the railway line towards a bridge crossing another small river. On the other side I was able to then go under the bridge and back to the beach and continue my journey along the coastline. All in all it was considerably easy than i first thought.

Back on the beach i hiked towards Seascale where i decided to stop to seek out a cafe for a well deserved break, a panini and hot chocolate with cream, marshmallows and a flake. After chatting to the owner who also helped her husband on their local dairy farm i set off again to find the estuary i was hoping to cross the following morning.

As I approached the estuary at the end of the beach, the wind picked up and the sun began setting. Climbing in among the sand dunes i found somewhere partially sheltered and began pitching the new tent I'd been given. It wasn't your normal straight forward tent configuration and as i fumbled with the poles and the flysheet flapping in the wind i wished I'd pre pitched the tent back at sues to check it. The pegs were small and not very well suited to soft sand none the less i carried on and with the help of the instructions eventually managed to get my home erected as darkness fell. The tent was quite frankly enormous, as big as the taj mahal. Big enough to hold a rave in or house a small family. I just hoped the pegs would hold in place for the night and vowed that i would make camp earlier the next day so i could become more acquainted with its design.