East Coast Mainline.

Today's walk would be squeezed into the area between the East Coast Mainline and the sea cliffs. Maybe 'squeeze' is the wrong word since the distance varied between a few metres and a few hundred metres. Throughout the day I'd be accompanied by the intermittent thunder of a train and its carriages rumbling north or southwards. When I was a member of the rat race, I used to make regular visits to our office in Edinburgh. Normally I used to take the opportunity of the train journey to catch up on my sleep, but on rare occasions I'd be awake as we approached Berwick. I used to look out of the window, see walkers on the coast path, and wish for the day when I would have the time to walk the same route. Thankfully, that day had arrived. Another train approached from the south and I waved to its occupants. I'm not sure whether I got any response since it was difficult to see with the light reflecting off the windows. Maybe they were asleep too.

Lowry

The cliff path dropped down on to Spittal Promenade. This would lead me to the south side of the river Tweed's estuary. Berwick has a prolific collection of information boards. They are  split into three categories, the first being about Berwick's history, the second about Berwick's wildlife, and the third about the painter, Laurence Lowry. The artist was based in Salford and is famous for his industrial landscapes occupied by 'stick' men, women and animals. He came frequently to Berwick on holiday, from the mid 1930s to when he died (1976), and liked it so much that he even considered buying a house here. Maybe it was the tall brick chimney of the Spittal chemical and fertilizer works that attracted him. Information boards show his paintings at the locations where he painted them. I was determined to take a photo of each information board, but gave up after half a dozen, because there were just too many of them. The first one I came across was of his painting of a 'Girl In A Red Hat On A Promenade'. I usually look at a Lowry painting and think that there is still hope for me as an artist. Then, when I look more closely at them, I realise that I'm kidding myself. I'm pretty sure that if I'd painted the 'Girl In A Red Hat', I probably wouldn't have caught that shyness and diminutive body language of the little girl. I'll stick to taking photos; you only have to press a button, and hey presto, that's the artwork done for the day.

Berwick

Berwick has a small port. A huge pile of timber of was stacked up on the quayside. I presume this was for export, since Northumberland has more than its fair share of wood already. It also has its fair share of bridges across the Tweed. Further upstream, there is Robert Stephenson's magnificent railway bridge, with its 28 spans and 37 metres height. Downstream of that is the Royal Tweed road bridge. It is less aesthetically pleasing than the rail bridge, but its four arches and modern reinforced concrete structure, is evidently favoured by the local birds for roosting.  I crossed the river Tweed on a stone bridge, that is known as the Old Bridge. The bridge was built between 1611 and 1624.  I was surprised to read that the piers are supported on large oak piles created from 873 trees.  These were harvested from Chopwell Forest, which is on the southwest outskirts of Newcastle. It is not a place I've visisted and I wondered if there was any actual woodland left.

Due to its strategic location, Berwick was a fortified town, and over centuries, huge defence walls had been built to protect its centre. It is well worth a couple of hours walking around the perimeter wall, taking care not to fall over the sheer drops. I made my way past the gun emplacement, where cannons once protected the mouth of the estuary, and eventually found myself at the pier. I followed the concrete structure to the lighthouse at its terminus. When I was here before, a combination of a rough sea and a large volume of water coming down the river Tweed, caused some large waves to form near to the end of the pier. Some dolphins took advantage of the conditions to leap up and out of the water. I managed to get a photo of one completely clear of the water. The sea was as flat as a mill pond today though, and no dolphins were to be seen.

As I walked back along the pier, I noticed that it was only 10:30. I'd be back at the car before lunchtime at this rate. An idea formed in my mind that I should continue along the England Coast Path to Scotland. Inland, the England-Scotland border actually follows the river Tweed, but then diverts north-eastwards before reaching the town, so ensuring that Berwick remains an English, rather than a Scottish town. Maybe, I could just do an out-and-back walk to the border? I'd not planned this, I had no map, and I was unsure how much further north, the border was along the coast.

Searching For Scotland

As I approached the start of the pier, I asked another walker if he knew how far the Scottish border was up the coast. 'Well it might be a couple of miles. Eyemouth is definitely in Scotland, and that's about eight. To be honest, I've never walked it, and I don't know'. Despite this vague assessment, I decided to set off up the coast anyway. Back on the top of the cliffs I came across an old Coastguard station. It was now owned by a voluntary organisation called Berwick Coastwatch. Later research on the organisation revealed that apart from looking out for distressed seafarers, they also '...provide advice and information to visitors using the beaches and using the coastal path.'  That was lucky, since a Coastwatcher was pinning a notice to the board on the wall of the tower, and I asked him how far Scotland was up the coast. 'About two miles. It's beyond the caravan park. I'm not sure whether there is a marker to signify the border though. When you reach the Morrisons supermarket, then you are in Scotland.' It seemed odd to me that the 2,700 mile England Coast Path wouldn't have some sort of monument at its end. A Morrisons seemed a bit of a disappointment, although I might be able to get a cup of tea, if it had a cafe. I thanked him for his expert knowledge, and set off northwards.

The Border

The caravans at the Holiday park were crammed along the cliff edge like sardines waiting to leap into the sea. A man was sat on the patio of one of them looking intently through binoculars. I asked him if he'd spotted anything interesting. His face looked like I'd asked him to explain the mathematical solution to Fermatt's Last Theorem. 'No.' he eventually concluded. I'd obviously interrupted him perusing Berwick's nudist section of the beach below, and so I left him to it.

Some Club Swingers were out and about beyond the caravan park and I had to wait a couple of times so that I didn't traverse their ballistic range. I reached an industrial estate on the outskirts of Berwick, and after that there just seemed to be countryside further north. Where was the Morrisons supermarket and my cup of tea? I was sure that I'd walked at least a couple of miles from Berwick. I'd not seen another England Coast Path sign since the caravan park, and had not seen any sign that indicated a border. There were no people around to ask  either. I plodded on.

The cliffs around here were quite dramatic with some pillars and sea caves to add to the thrill. When I reached another caravan park, I figured I'd walked at least 3 miles from Berwick and so must have reached the Scottish Border. I reckoned that the mysterious Morrisons, must have been on the other side of the railway track, and probably hidden by that industrial estate I'd past. Despite there being no monument here to commemorate the start/finish of the England Coast Path, I patted myself on the back for reaching the point. I turned around and headed back to Berwick a happy and content man.

Swan Song

The Coastwatcher had deserted his post when I walked back past his watch tower. I noticed a couple of surfers far out at sea. I could see some monster waves out there. A light rain was threatening as I dropped back down into Berwick, but it never actually materialised. The last time I was here, I'd seen dozens of swans in the estuary, but had only seen one or two today. These were mute swans. There is a Bewick swan, and I wondered if this was a corruption of the Berwick name. It turns out they are named after the engraver Thomas Bewick and have nothing to do with Berwick at all. There were a lot more people out for an afternoon stroll on Spittal Promenade, compared to this morning. I had another look at the haunting figure of the Girl In The Red Hat. It was painted in 1966. I guess she would be in her late sixties or early seventies now. I wondered whether she had a copy of the picture on her living room wall.

Back on the top of the cliffs near Scremerston a squadron of swans flew by, almost at my level. What a glorious sight! I watched them as they flew northwards towards Berwick, appearing as a long white line, in a grey sky, above the town. Maybe they thought they were Bewick Swans and made the same mistake with Berwick as I had.

My diversion to the Scottish Border had made today's walk a lot longer than I'd expected. Well, at least I'd completed the most northerly section of my England Coast Path North East Venture, and so it was well worth the extra effort. Back home, when I looked at the OS map, I was devastated to see that I was half a mile shy of reaching the border; it was on the other side of the caravan park I'd reached. It looks like I'm going to have to organise another walk up there, just to tick off that last half of a mile.

Oh...and the Morrisons supermarket, as referenced by the Coastwatcher, is still in England and quite a way from the border.