2^nd Jun 2014

Due to long grass making the perfect matress I slept well in the waste land I called home that night. The sun was up and I was now able to see where I was camped. The rusty broken barbed wire fence contained what used to be the remains of the old steel works. Large pools of water and a concrete landscape was all that remained of this once productive industrial plant. I had breakfast and packed away my mobile home into my backpack and set off, the remains of a pier split in two by a missing section protruding into the sea where ships used to dock and fill their cargo holds with steel before heading off to international destinations.

I dropped down from the bank onto the smooth hardened surface of the beach, the sun getting stronger by the minute. My destination for the day was seaham, quite a few miles along the coast. The views and terrains are constantly changing and today was no exception. From sand dunes to rocky cliffs and outcrops winding around the shore preventing me from seeing what was ahead.

The groubd beneath me also changing from sand to stones and then rocks and boulders. I came round a tall outcrop expecting either a perfectly formed sandy bay or rocky cove but instead was confronted by an enormous cave. Well that was it the bag was dropped, the head torch came out and I switched to cave explorer mode. It was to be honest a perfectly formed natural beauty and I was privilaged to be able to explore it. Nooks and crannies simply fired the imagination and as I explored I played with various settings on the camera taking plenty of pictures so that I would be able to reminisce about the discovery and relive the feeling of the experience. I could have stayed there for hours looking at the rock formations, climbing on the ledges and loosing myself in the moment but I had to eventually get back to the trek. I slung the pack on my back and whilst periodically peering over my shoulder continued along the coast.

This section of great Britain is absolutely stunning and I came across many more smaller caves and tunnels, stopping briefly to take in the natural beauty of each one as I came across them. The problem was I was using up valuable time I needed in order to beat the tide and hopefully successfully navigate my way to seaham completely at the bottom of the immense cliffs with no means of escape should I get trapped by the waters.

As the time passed I knew I would eventually find myself caught in a small bay or cove and figured this would be an ideal situation to demonstrate to followers of the trek what to do should they find themselves in a similar situation so knowing I would potentially be in a dangerous situation I continued along my planned route, the tide rapidly getting higher. I picked up the pace and found a small bay where the high tide marks didn't quite mark the cliff face. I couldn't go forward as the tide had already blocked my path, I could have attempted to go back but instead I found a nice spot above the tidal markings, unpacked my burner and made a coffee and rehydrated a pasta bolognese ration pack and waited for the tide to recede back clearing the path ahead to allow me to walk round the outcrop and on to seaham.

3^rd Jun 2014

Sitting patiently for the water level to drop clearing the way ahead and sipping on a mug of coffee I tried to imagine what it would be like for someone else to be in the same situation. The waves crashing against the rocks, the sound booming off the cliffs from all sides. It would be a scarry situation to find yourself in. I imagined the panic they would feel and wondered what drastic actions they would take.

After 4 hours the tide had come in filly and was now out far enough for me to climb into the cave to my left to see if I could see what lay ahead. Would the next bay be sandy or stoney? I waited another hour and was able to stand by the outcrop ready to proceed. Half an hour later I walked round into the next bay, it was stoney and showed signs of a recent landslide. Fresh rocks laying against the cliff face. I headed on looking up watching for signs of impending doom. I reached the far side and walked round the next obstacle only to be halted in my tracks by yet another recent landslide. The pile of mud and rocks higher than a house and spanning out into the sea. This was not what I had been expecting. I had a good look and weighed up the risk against the rewards. The loose soil and rocks made this obstacle a dangerous climb and was too wide to simply walk round without wading through the cold waters. I had no choice, I would have to go back. I turned round slightly disappointed that nature had thrown me this curve ball. I went back round to the previous bay and back passed my little picnic spot and back to a previous bay that looked climbable. The cliff here was not vertical but instead had a steep bank that once I'd climbed up to it would be a fair scramble to the top.

At the top I rejoined the coastal path that would take me to seaham only a few miles away. I gazed down at the beaches below as I passed them, the light fading as the sun started to set. All around me where fields and farm land, but ahead I could see trees descending into a valley, a railway track to my left. The path turned as it went down and I passed under the tracks, a train horn letting pedestrians know it was approaching. The path heading deep into the valley and in amongst the trees. It was a beautiful sight, caves embedded in the valley walls and a green canopy above me. The light was to dull now to take any pictures and as I ascended up the opposite side it became difficult to follow the track I was now on. I looked at my phone hoping to decipher a route from the satellite images in Google earth but I couldn't see anything obvious. I carried on up the track and emerged at the top in a field. No patgs visible I headed across hoping to run into the rail track. When I arrived at the other side of the field I spotted a pedestrian crossing a little further along that would take me across the tracks and back out to the clifftop path.

3^rd Jun 2014

Walking along the clifftop path in the dark Is a stupid thing to do, so I put my head torch on and illuminated the path ahead of me.

Sat in a parked car above nose point at seaham two of my followers, hearing about my excessive weight loss and worn out socks, had driven 4 hours and patiently waited for me to arrive knowing that I would have to pass them eventually. I arrived at the car park around 11pm to the voice of my only official Facebook stalker shouting "ADAM! IS THAT YOU?". A torch flashing manically on and off from a parked car and a pitiful car horn honking. I headed over and was greeted with a can of lager. We've brought you gifts and a bbq, they exclaimed. I'd originally planned to camp the other side of town but due to the time of night camping here on the cliff top seemed like a reasonable plan. The grass was reasonably long and a park bench with a steel plate attached to it made this a petfect location for a bbq and a couple of drinks. They had brought a huge tent with them which towered above the coffin like a small cathedral. We broke out the bbqs, heated up some spicy chicken and cracked open some cans. As the evening went on the beer became vodka and due to peer pressure I became drunk to the point of passing out especially after the long days hike and cliff scramble.

The following morning the sun was baking and my mouth was dry. I climbed out of the tent, drank a litre of water and we made plans to grab a breakfast in town which was only a short walk. We put the kit in their car and for the first time in a while I walked without the weight of a small child on my back.

The breakfast I had was the same 1500 calorie monster I'd had back in Whitby but the quality just wasn't the same. I plugged my backup battery and charged my phone off their sockets whilst emptying the free coffee pot time and time again. Once I was charged and the free coffee stopped we headed back to the car so I could grab my bag and cram it with the gifts the girls had brought up. On leaving the bar we began to play a game popular with young children called "bogeys". The rules are simple someone starts off by whispering the word "bogeys" in a public place and the next person has to increase the volume until basically you're shouting "BOGEYS" at the top of your voice and ultimately ejected from wherever punlic place it is you happen to be. This continued up the street with the winner screaming "bogeys" and adding a "whoop, whoop" at the end. When we got back to the car the girls pulled out a shopping bag with the goodies in. They'd even bought me new socks which I put on straight away.

The combination of sweets, cakes and milk pots added a couple of kilos to the weight of the pack which I was more than happy to carry knowing I would eventually consume them and hopefully gain the weight myself. We said goodbye and I set off back to the town where a rather large statue of an old soldier made out of metal was attracting quite the audience. After stopping for a closer look I carried on, passing various sculptures until I reached the far side of the town. The two girls had hopped in the car and driven ahead of me to "boost moral" they stood on a table, waved frantically and shouted encouragement as well as "BOGEYS!"

As I walked on the shouting changed to a pathetic car horn and flashing headlights and before I knew it I was back to the peaceful sound of the crashing waves below me. Looking back the town had all but disappeared and been replaced by fields, a small valley ahead of me and an overgrown narrow track guiding my steps onward.

3^rd Jun 2014

About half a mile the track split in two, one way followed a well kept path running parallel along the top of the valley towards the coast, the other way headed down some muddy steps through fallen trees to the bottom of the valley. I decided to take the more adventurous and challenging route to the bottom of the valley to see where it would take me.

Ducking under branches and climbing over the fallen trees the path was most certainly an interesting experience. It didn't take long before I found myself at the bottom and without a clear path to follow. I stepped off the bank and into a shallow stream, over another fallen tree and along an overgrown trail on the opposite bank. I followed the trail as far is it went until that then ended and I found myself ankle deep in the stream that was now becoming a small river. The valley walls were closing in with bare rock towering above me. A little further and the trail was partially visible on the other side and as the water was getting deeper I clambered up and began to follow it. Eventually I emerged into a small clearing and ahead the remains of what I think used to be a bridge. I climbed over another tree and down onto the wooden boards of the bridge and back to the other side. I'd reached the end of the trail and the end of the valley. A small waterfall trickling onto the beach below. I peered round the corner but couldn't see a way along the coast so turned round and climbed a set of steps I'd seen leading back to the top of the valley. The steps were steep and wound there way back to the clifftop path.

I could see Sunderland a little way off and continued to follow the path and up to the edge of the river. I followed the river bank along until I reached the Wearmouth bridge. Looking majestic and freshly painted it was quite a sight. Tempted to climb the metal structure and take look at the view from the top I refrained myself and headed back to the river bank where I found quite an impressive tree like sculpture towering above the promenade. The further I walked the more sculptures I found. Some were giant nuts, others bolts. I saw an arty ruin sculptured in granite and a metallic telescope with sculptured maps. I passed the harbour with massive ships docked waiting to be loaded with their precious cargos and eventually found myself at the coast once more.

I followed the promenade back round and along the beaches passed more beachside sculptures and on to seaborne. The light had now gone and the street lamps were behind me so I decided to camp down for the night and continue the trek the following morning. I found a level area on the beach, made camp and reheated a low calorie Lancashire hot pot before tucking in to my sleeping bag and closing my eyes.

4^th Jun 2014

Marsden grotto is a bar and restaurant you simply must visit. Its also known as the cave bar. Once a home to a local blaster the cave dwelling became a local attraction and eventually a bar serving ale to fishermen and smugglers. To get to the grotto you take a lift ride to the bay below and exit directly into the bar extension below. This was an ideal place for me to take a short break and get some brunch. I walked into the lift, reading about the history and looking at the old photos pinned to display boards along the sheltered corridor. When the lift arrived to take me below I selected the bar button and started to descend wondering first what I would find below and secondly how safe the lift was as it jerked occasionally in an unsettling manor. It took a fair while to make it to the bottom but when the doors opened I was quite surprised as to how clean and modern looking the entrance was. I then saw a cave entrance over to my left and headed straight in to what would have been the original home of its creator. It was a magical experience and was larger than I had expected. I could easily see myself living in a cave! I put my bag down and ordered a bacon and brie baguette and hot chocolate to be consumed in the fantasticly unique property. Ascending in the lift afterwards was just as exciting as before with the ultimate question, would it make it all the way back up or would it simply stop and fall crashing into the foyer below?

Thankfully it struggled its way back to let me out at the top of the cliffs.

It was raining quite hard so I put on my rain coat and covered my pack with its rain cover and set off for south Shields where I would be crossing the river tyne in hoolley. The tide was coming in and the current looked fairly harsh, I had a few hours to wait so decided to find a mc donalds and utilise their free wifi to backup my photos. This meant hiking into the town centre, something I didn't usually do and certainly didn't want anyone to think I was homeless. I decided that I would walk through the victorian gardens so I wouldn't stand out too much and then it would be a fairly brisk walk to mc donalds from there. I arrived put my bag in a corner, ordered a banana milkshake and began uploading. It was several hours later that I finished but before i left I used the toilets and had a quick shave. At least I looked less grizzly adams and more adam. I then realises I'd missed the tide by an hour so I hastily marched back to the small sandy beach I was going to leave from to see if I thought I could still make it across that evening.

As I arrived common sense kicked in and I checked the tide times for the following day. It would be an early start so I needed to make camp close by and preferably out of sight and under the protection of a tree. I headed off in search of a spot and found a public park nearby surrounded by trees, it seemed perfect so I pitched up and climbed into my sleeping bag only to discover the long grass was concealing a slope. I couldn't be bothered to repitch so I simply put up with it. I had a terrible nights sleep often finding myself in a ball at the bottom of the tent and having to clamber back up to where my makeshift pillow was. I also had some really weird dreams. 6:00 am soon came round and time to get up and get ready for the early morning crossing at 7:30 am.

4^th Jun 2014

Packing away the tent in the morning was a slimy experience as a countless number of slugs had moved in to hotel de canvas coffin that night. After evicting these unwanted tenants I headed for the small sandy bay I was to use as a launch for hoolley. I unpacked and got myself ready, keeping an eye on the river as I did so. It was soon do or don't time. I pushed off and started paddling out, the tide still coming in. It was a fairly easy paddle until I reached the river itself beyond the safety of the bay then I realised how strong the current was. I turned the boat into the flow and started paddling like my life depended on it, which to be honest it did. I'd planned to land on the beach directly opposite but the river had other ideas. I was going backwards and heading further inland, keeping an eye on the shore and spotting the lifeboat moored up on the other side I kept paddling hard. It wasn't far to the other side and luckily for me there was a second sandy shore I could land on. I gave up on my original choice and hoped I wouldn't miss my second choice. It was tiring but I managed to take a little refuge behind the wooden groyne protruding out into the river which reduced the effects of the current dramatically and thankfully I pulled hoolley into shore on the north side. Now so far every town has had "a dangerous river" but this really was "a dangerous river" even ferry gliding like I had a purpose nearly got me in trouble and a stark reminder that it doesn't matter how much experience and how big your balls are you must always respect the forces of nature.

After packing hoolley away I headed up to the promenade and boiled up some water to rehydrate some granola with raspberry before heading towards Tynemouth castle and priory. It was a really fantastic ruin which fired the imagination of times gone past. Almost directly opposite the ruins was a small coffee shop and as I'd had an early start I decided to top up my caffeine levels with an extremely large mocha and bacon and brie baguette. Their free wifi also meant I could catch up on my blogs. The mocha was delicious so I ordered another and to accompany it a caramel and shortbread slice. It wasn't long before my back pack attracted some attention and I then found myself chatting about my adventures with the staff and customers. Another two mochas later I managed to break free from the friendly hospitality of mr woods cafe and headed round the corner where I was stopped by a local who wanted to shake my hand and gave me a bracelet from south Africa. Morris was south african and had recently flown out there with his wife. It was made from an old o-ring and copper wire. The gesture was lovely and just as I was about to head off once more paul from mr woods came running over to wish me luck and safe journeys for the rest of the trip. Tynemouth really is a genuinely friendly place and well worth a visit with gorgeous beaches and interesting history.

I carried on through Cullercoats and into whitley bay where I met a young lady out walking het dog along the devastated promenade. We chatted about how the last storms ripped up the tarmac and concrete and how the cormorants laid their eggs on the cliffs. She walked with me for a while as we chatted and then we parted, a friendship to be continued only as a memory. I wish I'd found her name out but neither of us exchanged them or any form of contact details. A very brief encounter I will never forget. I carried on to st marys island and its lighthouse thats only accessible when the tide is out. A nearby nature reserve providing me with a perfect sheltered camp site and home for the night.

6^th Jun 2014

Amongst the trees and out of sight and undisturbed. The sun went down and I turned over to close my eyes. I could hear a high performance car approaching the car park the other side of the reserve, then another, stereo turned up to full volume. Tyres squealing and young ladies laughing. I think I may have pitched up next to the local youth hangout an unassuming car park next to an ancient monument. The cars coming and going long into the night. Eventually it quietened down and was able to fall into a slumber hoping for at least a dry day so I could continue on my way.

The following morning it was raining, I woke fairly early and hearing the tapping sound as the rain drops hit the tent decided to roll over and get another couple of hours sleep.

I woke a few hours later the rain still tapping on the canvas of the tent. I filled my pan with water and rehydrated some breakfast. I needed to either packup as best I could or climb back into my sleeping bag and have a lazy morning and wait for the rain to stop. Not feeling like getting wet I decided sleeping the morning awau was the best descision so climbed back into the sleeping bag and rolled over, closed my eyes and caught a few more winks.

I woke around 3pm, I must have been tired, the rain had now stopped so I ceased the opportunity and gathered everything together and set off back to the lighthouse to pick up my trail again. Marching along the cliffs the cloud threatening to open up I made my way to Blyth ready to seek a way to get across the port entrance and on to the other side. I headed down from the cliffs and onto the promenade that runs parallel to the port seeking for a place to launch hoolley, unfortunately there simply was no way I would be able to and eventually conceded to having to find another way round. It was starting to get dark by this time and the thought of having to navigate a large town was not in the slightest bit appealing.

I asked a local for help navigating the maze of roads to get me to the other side of the river so I could find somewhere to pitch up for the night. Now its a little disconcerting when a local gets confused and can't give you directions. Still I took note of some key points of intetest, a small supermarket, two roundabouts and a mc donalds and hoped I would cone across them in some similar order. I eventually found the McDonald's and knew I was finally somewhere close to the river bank I could follow up to the motorway bridge and cross over. Once on the other side it was as simple as following the river banks over field boundaries to the point keeping the river on my right, and following the bank all the way back to the motorway and a second bridge that would eventually put me on the other side of the port. Yes it had started raining again but that wasn't a problem, my tent was packed away and hiking in the rain isn't usually a problem. I just don't like packing away wet gear in the first place. After an hour or so I found myself back at the motorway and crossing the second bridge. I then pealed off and down a small country road heading for Cambois, a very small seaside village back on the coast and opposite the port entrance.

It was now almost midnight so I needed to find somewhere to sleep, there were plenty of trees surrounding me but none that I could penetrate in order to seek a suitable site to set up camp. Boy, what I would have done to own a machete. At least then I could cut my way through the undergowth and easily clear an area large enough for me to pitch up in. I kept walking, head torch lighting up the way ahead and acting like a search light as I seeked sone small opening. Then I saw a potential track leading in to the heavy undergrowth. It didn't seem that anyone had used the track for some time and thus seemed it would possibly lead me to a perfect little site suitable for that night. The rain had now stopped and as I followed the track it opened up onto a disused road. One end was blocked off completely and weeds were growing through the old tarmac and lay undisturbed. I followed the road and found the other end was also blocked off. This to me was a great sign as I knew I should be able to camp relatively undisturbed for the night. Now all I needed was some flat ground I could pitch the tent on and settle in. I walked back along the road searching, then I saw a small game trail leading into the woods to my left. I followed it into the densely packed woods where it started to open up a bit. The ground was covered with grass and the trail seemed fairly unused. I located an area large enough to pitch up and climbed into bed hoping that for a change I wouldn't be disturbed in the morning.

7^th Jun 2014

Waking up in amongst the trees and all alone is just how I like it. I had breakfast and packed everything into my pack before continuing along the trail I'd followed the night before. I emerged from the woods into a field at the end of a street of empty houses. The local coal powered power station, which had been closed some years previous and now demolished, had provided the small town with employment. When the station closed most of the locals had moved on leaving this street with only a handful of dwellers. It was quite eerie walking down the road, boards covering the doors and windows. I turned left out of the street and passed the site where the power station once stood, it had been completely leveled and the only thing left that showed any indication of its previous use was a sign attached to the tall metal fence around the perimeter. I carried on along the road and turned right at the roundabout so that I could follow the river to the end of the spit and opposite the port I had stood on the night before. Stood under the wind generator looking across the water to the promenade opposite I recounted a similar situation I had encountered when I arrived at greater Yarmouth. Once again I'd had to walk several miles just to end up a mere 100 yards from where I had set off. I hoped this wouldn't happen too often as it was quite disheartening although a necessary evil of the trek. I sat down on my pack to reflect about the trek so far and to check the route I would be taking to get me to my next destination, Newbiggin.

Newbiggin had stood out in my memory simply due to its unusual and slightly humorous name. The journey should be quite simple, all I had to do was follow the beach, the weather was fine, a little overcast but at least it wasn't raining. I set off down to the sandy shore and relaxed by the sound of the waves made my way along. After a few hours walking the sun started to shine through and the clouds started to clear up. By the time I reached Newbiggin it was humid and hot, the only thing on my mind was to get something wet down my throat and maybe an icecream to cool me down. I'd had to leave the beach and head up over some cliffs to reach the promenade and as I came up over the last peak I saw two people stood on a platform above the rock defences in the bay. As I carried on down to the promenade I noticed someone walking across the beach and realised that the couple stood looking out to sea were considerably out of proportion to the person walking the along sandy beach. It then occured to me that either tge couple were enormous or that the people of Newbiggin were disproportionately small. On closer inspection I decided that the inhabitants of the town were normal in size and that the couple were in fact a sculpture which was later confirmed by a sign I came across on the promenade.

I could see a cafe in the distance and reminded of my thirst and desire for a little bite to eat I headed off. Walking on the tarmac promenade with one goal in mind I was temporarily haulted as a local greeted me and stated "that pack looks heavy". "Its heavier than it looks" I replied. We continued walking my sights set on the cafe. Ian was a retired headteacher and recommended a fish n chip shop around the corner or for a good coffee the cafe I was already dead set on. We got to a junction and shook hands as ian headed into town and I headed directly for the cafe. I sat down ordered a mocha and caramel slice and charged my phone. As I was sat settled and checking my messages a lady came over, a neighbour of ian, and introduced herself. She was fascinated by the challenge and the story so far, we chatted for a while when ian and kate, his wife turned up. We continued our conversation from earlier and he suggested that I go back with him to get a shower and maybe wash my clothes.

Ian and kate lived about quarter of a mile back up the promenade but that didn't bother me. I'd been thinking it would be nice to have a shower a few miles earlier. We arrived at their home and I gratefully jumped in the shower, throwing my clothes in the washing machine as I did. After I finished washing myself I put on my swimming shorts and clean tshirt and joined ian and his family for a delicious chilli and plum and custard pudding. We chatted about the trek and the adventures ian and kate had gone on with the tandem bicycle they had bought. Ian asked if I had packed anything I hadn't used yet, well yes actually. I disappeared out back and put on my safari shirt. There you go! My clothes were now dry so I went to get my trousets to fix the zipper which was now beyond repair when kate offered to have a go herself. I handed them over and set up camp in their garden. I then joined ian in the living room to check the weather on the evening news. Kate eventually joined us, the zipper was completely replaced and crotch properly sewn up. It was a very professional job and I was amazed. I'd almost given up on the trousers and had started to think I'd have to get some new ones. Now with the repairs I'm expecting them to last a fair few hundred more miles. After a quick glass of single malt it was time to climb into the coffin.

As I stood in the garden looking at the view I noticed the waves to my right. I'd heard the phrase white horses but never really knew why until now. It really did look like a herd of white horses were charging ashore, theirs white mains trailing behind them, a truly magical sight.

8^th Jun 2014

At 4am I was rudly awaken by the sun coming up. I wasn't prepared to get up the early and ian had offered me breakfast at 7:30 so i was going to make the most of a slow morning. I rolled over, ducked my head under my sleeping bag and tried my hardest to get myself back to sleep. I think I managed maybe an hour or so, but the coffin was heating up to quite a temperature. Thankfully before I decided to emerge and before I completely roasted alive ian announced there was a coffee for me outside the tent. Oh what service, "breakfast will be in 20 mins", perfect I thought. I put my newly mended trousers on and zipped up my perfectly attached zipper before breaching the safety of the tent. Feeling a sense of renewed confidence I rolled up my sleeping bag and mat and collapsed the tent. I then joined ian and kate for cereal and coffee followed by a full cooked breakfast. It was a great start to the day, a full stomach and a gloriously sunny day.

Ian and kate had to walk their dog so we all set off down the promenade towards the church together. On the way we passed a miniature version of the huge lifelike sculptures standing out in the bay above the sea defences. I must admit the ones in the bay did start to look like a couple with a suicide pact. It was just a case of when were they going to jump.

The church wasn't much further, and the place where we part company. I headed off along the coast passed the caravan park and they went back to their perfectly located home on the sea front.

Up above the sea I carried on with my journey following the cliffs till I reached the factory chimney that could be seen towering into the horizon from Newbiggin. I had to climb down from the cliffs on to a wasteland below and then up onto a defensive bank along the front between the sea and a metal security fence.

Whilst walking passed the industrial building looking at the huge piles of coal I wondered what they did, I didn't notice mother duck out walking her babies. She got startled and took to flight leaving her young behind they panicked and some fell between the rock sea defences. I put my hands on my head and stopped. Oh dear! Mum had gone, quacking loudly and frantically and the ducklings, from beneath the rocks were squeaking. I really didn't know what to do I peered into the cracks to see if I could see the babies and maybe help them out. Then I spotted one clamering its way out and on to the path behind me. I backed off hoping the rest would follow. It frantically ran under the fence towards the coal heaps, a huge tonka truck fully loaded heading directly for it. I was helpless, I put my hands on my head once more. Thankfully the duckling evaded the enormous tyres and jumped in a puddle as the truck drove on unaware of the ducklings impending doom. I carried on down the fence thinking that if I was away from the ducklings mum would intervene and gather them together. Sure enough mother duckling flew in to where her children were and spotting the lone baby made her way to retrieve it, just as the huge truck, now empty of its load, returned. Thankfully the driver saw me, still with my hands on my head, and clocked the frantic duck and its manic baby darting across the yard. He stopped the truck and shouting above the noise of the engine shouted "they'll be flattened!". "I know I replied", still with my hands on my head, he climbed out of his cab and chased both mother and baby back towards the fence. By this time two more lorries had stopped, essentially halting the continuous stream and no doubt causing problems further down the chain. I removed my hands from my head, waved at the heroic driver and continued on my way still on top of the cliffs making my own path to Cresswell.

8^th Jun 2014

After all the excitement with the ducklings I wondered what the rest of the day would be like. I headed along the top of the cliffs on the grass making my own path amongst the buttercups and horses. It was a lovely summers day and all hot and sweaty I decided to take a break to take in the views. I lay my bag down, took off my tshirt and lay down on the grass to let me tan my back as having a rucksack hanging off your back means it doesn't see the sun very often. I had only been lying there for a few minutes when I felt an unusual sensation in my stomach. I knelt up and clasp my hands round, I knew something was wrong and I knew what would happen next. I moved over to my left away from my pack and where I had been laying. Falling onto my hands my stomach tensed and up came a clear liquid. Twice more and one for luck. I reached over to my bag and pulled out the wet wipes to wipe my face and mop my brow. I then reached into my bag once more and pulled out the bottle of water I always carried, took a swig and again one for luck. The last thing I wanted was to be dehydrated. Rolling onto my back next to the bag I lay my left forearm over my eyes and wondered what had just happened. I closed my eyes with the warm rays of the sun basking my body, a cool breeze in the air and the sound of the waves lapping at the shore below. When I opened them two hours had passed and my stomach was a little warm and pink. I gazed over at the horizon, took a deep sigh and put my tshirt back on. As I headed off along the trail I wondered how much I would pay for sleeping in the midday sun without sun protection.

When I arrived at Cresswell I stopped off at the old icecream parlour for some delicious homemade choc mint icecream to cool me down and carried on to the drift cafe for a banana milkshake. It was a ridiculously hot day and one that simply made the scenery glisten with vivid colour. I made my way back down to the beach through the dunes and down onto the sand. As I walked towards the firmer shoreline I noticed the sand squeaking beneath me with every step.

The beach was to say the least, perfect, and with the tide out, it was so flat you could have played a game of bowls on it. On the horizon I thought i could see a small island, it couldn't be holy island as that was way off so I checked the map.

Hauxly nature reserve was coming up though so I decided I would look for a sheltered place to pitch just in case the weather decided to change like it did back at thornwick caves. I reached the end of the beach and headed up the bank towards the nature reserve.

There were trees and bushes so it seemed like a reasonable place to search around to locate a nice quiet spot where I could be sheltered and left undisturbed. I went through the gate and followed the path further into the reserve. The birds were chirping and the pheasants were making the weird noises they made. I eventually came across an area that had previously housed a hide but it was no longer there. Perfect! I waited for a while and sat on my bag to see if there would be many passers by but no one came. I pitched the tent, made dinner and ate a cake before turning in. Inside the tent I took off my tshirt to inspect the damage I had inflicted on my self under the sun earlier that day. Luckily I'd been given suncream back after my visit with the rnli boys at spurn point so I applied a liberal coating, carefully and gently before climbing into my sleeping bag and closing my eyes. It was an uncomfortable night but I woke the following morning, the sun was shining and the birds singing their morning songs.

9^th Jun 2014

It was a lovely morning shaded by the trees, pheasants still making their weird squawking sounds and the birds chatting away to each other. My first stop for the day would be amble a couple of miles down the coast. I set off feeling quite resfreshed. It was going to be a lovely day. That night I could hardly hear the sound of the north sea settled in the nature reserve but now back at the coast the rythmic patterns of natures natural calming white noise was accompanying me on my way.

Amble only took a couple of hours to reach by which time I was considering digging a pit. The number of walkers and close proximity of the houses helped keep my buttocks clenched and on high alert for a café or public convenience I marched into the town and down to the quay. There were two cafes by the quay and neither were open. It was becoming a desperate situation. Then I saw salvation in the shape of a white flag with a red cross bearing the initials RNLI. Hope was at last on the horizon. I made a quick step last ditched attempt to preserve my dignity and headed straight for the station. Luckily there was a crew member minding the stations shop so I approached steadily announcing my name and that I was walking to raise money to help the crews fulfil their roles saving those in peril at sea and possibly hikers with am urgent need to drop a load. With a smile I was lead into the station and shown the lavatory.

I emerged feeling particularly lighter and joined the kind gentleman outside on the bench he'd been cleaning. Apparently seagulls don't have the sense to simply ask to use the facilities. After a good chat and lovely mug of tea I went through the boathouse to look at the lifeboat and was given a lovely enamelled badge and map showing the locations of the other stations I would pass along my journey. I then set off for Warkworth to take a closer look at the castle standing proud over the town. On the way I passed a small shingle beach which would have been the ideal place to launch hoolley allowing me to save a few miles hiking but I figured the detour was worth the extra effort especially on this gorgeous sunny morning. I've found that northern folk are extremely pleasant and always happy to stop for a chat. First off I stopped to admire a nice catamaran, imagining myself living on board and seeking a life of exploration and adventure, the owner was on board, tidying up and getting her ready for her next voyage. After this brief encounter I bumped into kate claire and her mum out for a walk with their dog, the dog barking at my backpack, something I had now become a custom too. Unbeknownst to me kate had taken a photo of me bending over writing details about the website my pack looking huge on my back and face obscured by the top of my head. She'd caught my best side for sure. It wasn't till later that I found this out mind you and had to laugh when the photo appeared on my Facebook time line. We parted company with a smile, a smile I would take with me for the rest of the day.

The castle although a ruin was a great example of English craftsmanship and what was left of the sandstone walls were still standing proud and solid as the day the stones were laid. A brief look round and I figured I should really get something to eat. I went down the hill into the medieval main street and searched for a quaint cafe to grab a bite to eat. At the far side of the town I found the perfect hideaway. A small cafe so small there was no room to sit inside. I headed in only to find kate and her mum sat finishing their lunch. I ordered a jacket potato with beans and cheese and sat under the canopy erected in the cafe garden. Just as I was finishing up my luck changed.

10^th Jun 2014

It started raining, and not a light shower either. I threw my pack on and prepared myself for a wet afternoon. I set off down the road and over the old 600 year old bridge crossing the river enabling me to carry on my mammoth journey around Britain. After the bridge I had to turn right and follow the road up a slight hill.

Whilst saying my goodbyes I was advised to follow the cycle route due to several recent fatalities and injuries along the road leading to the beach. Unlike me I actually took the advice and followed the instructions I'd been given. I left the road and entered gravel track where I bumped into Sid and two fellow walkers and their dog that had left Scotland and was heading to Brussels to attend a rally. it was great to see other hikers passionate about a cause and making a peaceful protest in their own unique way.

It was still raining so after a good chat we carried on with our very different journeys. They headed in to town and I headed back to the coast. Once I found it again I had to turn right, with the sea to my left. An unusual experience and one that went against the grain. The problem with taking the advice I had been given was that it meant I would have to double back on myself once I found the amble harbour so that I could satisfactorily complete the challenge and stay within the rules I had set back in November.

It didn't take too long but in the rain it was quite simply the last thing I wanted to do. "Rules is rules" as Lenny, an old friend from my motor sports days used to say.

I had high hopes that I would make it to Cresswell today but with the poor weather and me and my gear getting soaked I realised I would have to cut the distance down. I just didn't realise at the time how much I would be cutting it down by.

The next town I was to pass was Alnmouth, far enough inland that as long as the tide allowed it I would only glipse it from afar. A small river at low tide was all I had to pass. The tide didn't allow anything. Although the tide was going out the rain was still coming down and the river was still too deep to cross by foot and flowing too quickly to warrant setting up hoolley and getting even wetter. I had no choice I would have to follow the river back until I either found a shallow spot to wade through or a bridge to cross over.

11^th Jun 2014

I followed the river from the shore back towards the source, the rain beating down on my jacket and on my backpack rain cover. The river was flowing out in a furious manner making a crossing in hoolley particularly dangerous and out of the question and although my feet were wet I wasn't willing to wade through the torrent without knowing how deep the channel would go. It was frustrating to say the least. I headed back towards the dunes and saltmarsh separating me from any kind of solid ground in order to find either a shallower less dramatic crossing or to locate a bridge leading into Alnmouth. 
Keeping close to the edge I kept seeing potential passages but didn't feel confident enough to try them, the silty river edge and soft mud reminding me of a previous encounter with salt marshes from earlier on in the trek.

The river started to bend to my right with boats moored and laying askew as the water levels slowly dropped. Tiptoeing across rocks and Marsh weed I had one last attempt at crossing. I cautiously stepped into the silt and slowly began to sink, I took another step thids time sinking further, the weight of my backpack pushing me down. The mud went from soft to softer and finally to bugger this I'm turning round and heading back!

A little further along I could see a road bridge crossing my nemesis the only problem was, how was I going to get to it?

Directly across from me was a high grassy bank leading along to the bridge. The problem was that between me and the safety of the bank was a boggy marsh full of creeks and soft muddy silt. Although it was a dangerous prospect it was preferable to standing in the rain or attempting another crossing. I set off, jumping the creeks and treading carefully using the marsh weed to spread my weight and prevent me sinking into the mud.

It took a while crossing the marsh with alot of toing and froing, zig zagging as my destination slowly came closer. One final creek to cross, too wide to jump I figured eventually I would find an easier place to cross. Then I spotted footprints in the mud, which by now was slightly more solid and forgiving. I figured that if there were footprints then someone must have found a way across before. I followed the trail and found a small rock crossing taking me over the ladt hurdle back to land.

Once I was stood on the bank I reassessed my options. I could follow the road away from me or take a more direct approach acroos some fields and directly to the bridge. The road was going the wrong way and to be honest looked like the least interesting route so I headed across the fields. The long grass wet from the rain, but that was inconsequential under the circumstances.

It wasn't long before I reached the bridge and crossed over into Alnmouth. I headed down the main street back towards the shore along the way stopping off at the sunn inn, which I felt was appropriate and also a tad ironic at the time. Walking into the bar I ordered a coffee and was given a towel, the bar maid commenting about how she felt sorry for me. If only she knew!