31 July: Northumberland coast

One of DH's favourite walks is up the Northumberland coast from Craster to Low Newton (we did it the same day last year).

Yesterday the stiff breeze was from the south, so behind us as we approached Dunstanburgh Castle.


In order to cross the stream which runs out across the beach, we turned in through the dunes and across the bridge - watching out for trolls.

Arriving at the Ship Inn precisely as they started to take lunch orders, we were able to eat while watching the queue for food and drink grow.

The wind seemed to have strengthened as we walked back along the beach, whipping the salt spray onto the specs, and whipping the loose sand round the shins. Perhaps shorts were not the best choice.

The tide was coming in as we neared the stream. There was a nice sand bar half way across; a neat skip and a jump and I was across - with dry trainers!

The next wave swept up the stream, demolishing the sand bar, and stranding DH on the far side. But all was not lost, as another sand bar was formed by the retreating water, and he was able to hop and step over. Much more graceful by both of us than last year's efforts.


The back of my neck is sun(or wind)burnt today. DH was protected by his birthday hat.

31 July: Craster again

As DH had the day off, yesterday we went for a walk up the Northumberland coast, from Craster to Low Newton by the Sea. We did the same walk last September, and I decided not to take the same photos again, so see here for pictures.

As we arrived at the old quarry in Craster to park, there was already a scattering of wiry grey-heads with rucksacks and boots ferretting in car boots for maps and walking sticks. Many of them were wearing heavy boots and big rain jackets. Some even had woolly hats.

Now I know it hasn't been a brilliant summer (understatement of the year?), but it was bright sunshine, with a bit of a breeze. Well, a stiff breeze. From the north. But I was very comfortable in a T-shirt with a cotton shirt open over it jacket-wise.

Setting off northwards towards Dunstanburgh Castle, we were soon overtaking strollers. Once beyond the castle, there were fewer people (and hardly anybody on the golf course) till we came to the part of the beach near the cabins. Plenty of people sitting on the sand, most with stout windbreaks. Lots of dogs (with their people) enjoying the beach; a few games of beach cricket going on, and even some brave (or foolhardy) surfers, plus a sea kayaker, who presumably knew what he was doing.

As you walk up the beach, there are several little streams running down into the sea, just trickling across the sand. One of these is rather bigger, and the small jumps over the earlier ones were not going to get us over this. It was much too much effort to detour to the bridge behind the dunes, so we took a run at it...

At least I didn't do a victory roll on the sand when I reached the other side. DH had sand in his pullover, as well as a wet foot and leg that didn't quite get across. But discretion being the better part of getting wet and sandy, I had a very wet foot, and severe splashing on both trouser legs from having put my foot down in the middle of the stream.

It dried off by the time we got to the Ship Inn for lunch.

The wind was combining with an incoming tide to produce some pretty big waves. After our lunch and a little while sitting and watching the folk round the little bay at Low Newton, we walked back along the path behind the dunes. This gave us a bit of shelter - strangely the wind that had been in our faces was now not quite at our backs - and took us to the bridge over the stream we had not-quite-jumped going north. From the top of the dunes, the view of the succession of white waves sweeping into the bay was exhilarating.

We stood and watched the tide reaching a sand bank, which it quickly turned into an island. A father and son were still playing beach cricket on the sandbank, until the water reached the stumps, and then father had to carry son and stumps through the incoming tide to reach the dunes. Meanwhile, the waves were washing round the sandbank from both ends, and where they met there was a fascinating interaction of water flows. Some of the undercurrents produced must have been strong, as the sandbank was being re-shaped as we watched.

Rejoining the crowds between the castle and Craster, we got back to the car park to find so many vehicles parked there that it was difficult to manoeuvre out. As usual, I slept on the way home, then DH had a nap on the sofa. Good day.