Circumnavigating the Bowness peninsular. I pass the huge antennas at Anthorn Radio Station in a state of awe and fascination that only a nerdy electronics engineer can conjure up.
Then explore the remains of the Solway Viaduct – a Victorian railway bridge that linked Scotland to England and allowed thirsty Scots to fill up on otherwise dry Sundays. Then pass through the pretty village of Bowness on Solway (not -on-Windermere) and the remains of the docks at Port Carlisle.
In which I avoid skin-burn in Skinburness, and even worse down Dicktrod Lane, walk to the pointy bit of Grune Point, then trudge the lanes past various salt marshes. I visit the abbey that Robert the Bruce and some local teenager trashed, accidentally trespass across some fields, and end at a fortified church protected by an eagle.
I negotiate a 13 mile beach that just goes on and on and on and on….., take a few mudbaths, and eventually arrive in the lovely town of Silloth.
Starting from Harrington, and trespassing through the site of the old Moss Bay Hematite Iron Company and an old quarry, I then stumble upon Christmas-tree-land – whoever thought that would be here! Through Workington where I visit the memorial to PC Bill Barker who heroically stood on the bridge during the 2009 floods as it was washed away. Then along a shingle beach to Maryport and its nice little harbour.
From the pretty village of St Bees, I climb over the beautiful St Bees Head, with great views of Dumfries & Galloway and the Isle of Man. I walk through the nice town of Whitehaven, then get bored to sleep by a guy on top of a hill, before dipping down into the village of Harrington, where I encounter a man being eaten by a fish.
My first walk in a long time, on which I pass the site of the worst nuclear accident in British history, encounter a strange beach-shanty-town, and learn about the made-up history of St Bega.
In which I invite someone along for a short stroll, and things don’t quite turn out as I’d planned.
I finally fill in the gap in my walk between Bootle and Ravenglass. I get through the Eskmeals Firing Range without anyone shooting at me, discover the best beach in Cumbria (which isn’t saying too much), and end up fording the River Esk to get to Ravenglass.
In which I encounter two lighthouses, battle my way across boulder fields, contemplate cliff climbing, and nearly fall in a river.
In which I suffer greatly from yesterday’s 15 miles, cross that bloody railway line god knows how many times (although it selfishly doesn’t let me cross any rivers), and pick a fight with a sheep.
In which I get to like the town of Barrow a little more, consider risking drowning for a short cut, get caught by the fuzz, take a big tumble and hurt myself, then get sunburnt crossing a desert.
My longest walk so far on this adventure, in which I discover a contender for Britain’s Shittiest Island award, and encounter a strange cloaked figure.
This is a walk I’ve put off for three weeks due to my dislike of cycling. It takes me up and down a mountain, around the Leven estuary, dodging cars and lorries on the A590, and all the time I think I could have waded across the river instead.
I consider risking the marshes around the hilariously named Humphrey Head (OK, not that hilarious), trudge a few more lanes (more happily this time), completely fail to spot a peregrine, then skirt the “Low Marsh” as the fading shafts of sunlight glimmer off the water.
OK, this walk doesn’t strictly start from Sandside. Sandside is south of the River Kent, and this walk starts from the opposite bank of the river, on the north side. That’s because on the last stage I waded across the river to the start point of this walk, and so I can start from there. Confusing? Well, yeah, have a read to find out why.
On the hottest day of the year, I set off in jeans and a women’s hat – seemed like a good idea in the morning. I meet a friend, and decide to wade across the river, because it’s just such a long boring walk otherwise.
I swap direction for one section, and battle a 50mph headwind southwards, passing through scenic clifftops, old copper mines, and salt marshes, and then trespass the territory of the local ovine biker gang.
It’s been 71 days since I last walked a section of my coastal adventure. In that time the world has become a very different place. Back then people went to pubs and chatted to each other. We went dancing, ate in restaurants. We kissed and hugged each other. When we needed groceries we just walked into a shop and bought them. In the mornings we went to work, and came home again in the evening. Then we stopped.
I was checking the weather forecast all week – this weekend was going to be the best weather since last summer. Come Thursday I was about to book a day off on Friday so I could do three walks this weekend. Fantastic! At 1:30am on Friday morning I was awoken by the sound of coughing.
A really varied and enjoyable section this one – tidal roads, marshes, villages, shingle beaches, caravan parks, nuclear power stations, ports, clifftops, ancient monuments, and promenades. Really enjoyed this one, apart from going down a loooong dead end!
I catch three buses and take an hour and a half to travel 1.25 miles, encounter a pair of other long distance walkers, and get dispirited.
I manage to squeeze a walk in between Storm Jorge’s anger fits, get accosted by a farmer, bullshit my way out of it, consider swimming across a flood, and see an animal I’ve never seen before.
I traverse the longest promenade in Britain, surely it must be? This section of the walk should have chalked off three piers and a ferry, but I was to be disappointed!
This was my first proper day-night walk. The first half on banks and paths, the second half along the beach. I planned to come into Blackpool after sunset – after all, Blackpool is so much nicer in the dark!
This walk starts off lovely, quickly turns depressing, then briefly becomes lovely again before sinking in the mud and becoming totally disheartening! Oh well, I didn’t expect too much different, to be honest.
This was a really pleasant walk – first up the eastern bank of the River Douglas, then the south bank of the Ribble, and all the way into Preston.
This day started badly, picked up nicely, then spectacularly deteriorated at the end.
On a cold, very windy day, at the beginning of February, I make the relatively short journey from Southport Pier to the strangely named village of Banks, and learn a little more about birds.
A long walk along an even longer beach. I get bored even though I’m in the most spectacular landscape, then end up feeling guilty about it!
My second ever coastal walk is lovely, mixing dunes, countryside, and beaches. It can’t get much better than this!
On the very first stage of my round-Britain coastal walk, I get a bit emotional at the start, bored in the middle, and exhilarated at the end. Here we go, woohoo!