Marsden Bay

Just beyond the limekilns, I reached Marsden Bay. From the carpark at the top of the high cliffs, a walkway runs out towards the sea and a concrete tower disappears down to the beach. Bizarrely, this is an elevator to a restaurant at the bottom of the bay. The restaurant is based around some old caves hacked into the cliff. In the late 1700s, Jack 'the blaster' Bates worked at the Marsden limestone quarry and set up residence in one of these caves with his wife. In the 1830s and 1840s, the cave dwelling was developed further by a Scotsman, Peter Allan to include several new rooms including a ballroom. The elevator is restricted to patrons of the restaurant and so I opted for the steep staircase at its side. The tide was in and I squeezing me between the crumbling cliffs and the sea. Just offshore was the massive lump of Marsden Rock. It used to have a huge natural arch, but in 1995-6 it collapsed and the surrounding area had to be made safe. The rock is quite a bird sanctuary and one report has it home to 8% of England's Cormorants. I found that a bit hard to believe since I couldn't see one on the rock today. I trudged my way up the beach keeping my distance as I past an anorexic sea stack. I outrun the tide and picked up a walkway that delivered me back to the top of the cliffs. 

The Leas

The grassy area between the cliffs and the A183 coast road is known as the Leas. I was struck by the number of Skylarks flying about and singing their modem song. I've never seen so many. There were so many dog walkers in the area, I was surprised that the Skylarks hadn't chosen a better ground nesting site. The path diligently followed the edge of the cliffs and I made my way around Frenchman's Bay to Trow Point. It was raining quite hard now. I made my way up on to a hillock where a large gun pointed out to sea. I later read that this was a replica of the original. It was located at a good vantage point. I looked northwards along the coast. The cliffs disappeared and were replaced by sandy beach. Beyond that I could see a large ferry making its way into the River Tyne. 

Lake District Fish

'Are you doing the Engand Coast Path.' My inquisitor was a fellow sat on a bench. He had one of those plastic slings for throwing tennis balls for his dog. Throughout our conversation, the dog would dutifully retrieve the ball and the fellow would throw it away again. I told him about my venture to walk the coast path from Scotland to Spurn Point. He told me that he'd recently talked to a young woman who was walking the whole path. 'She said that she'd nearly run out of money and would have to go back to work for a while to earn enough to restart.' My venture seemed a little insignificant in comparison. The fellow told me that he was a wild-camper in his day and had fished in quite a few of the Lake District tarns. He went into detail about a pitch he made at Grisedale Tarn and Red Tarn at the bottom of Helvellyn. He told me there was Arctic Char in Grisedale Tarn and Schelly which is so rare that you aren't even supposed to take a photo of it before putting it back. 'Can't do it nowadays. Dodgy knees and hip. I've had a hernia too.' Depressingly, he didn't look much older than me. Talking to him convinced me to get as many good walks under my belt as possible before I was blessed with a hernia. I didn't fancy the prospect of sitting on a bench slinging a tennis ball for a dog all day. 

Sand Dancers

There's a lot of sand along the coast at South Shields. I can imagine that in summer the beach and promenade would be buzzing with bathers. It would probably be buzzing with flies too, given the amount of dog shite. The people from South Shields are know as Sand Dancers. One theory about its derivation is that it came from County Durham miners who were brought in to work at Westoe Colliery during the 1960s. The South Shields miners called the County Durham miners 'hillbillies' and in retaliation they were called Sand Dancers back. I have to say that the story does not have a ring of truth about it to me. I've found miners much more crudely imaginative. Hillbillies and Sand Dancers? Nah, I'm sure they'd have come up with something much better and outrageous than that. 

Conversation Piece

Just before I reached the River Tyne I came across a piece of artwork that has remained fondly in my memory since the first time I saw it. I'd been looking forward to seeing it again and I wasn't disappointed as I reached the edge of a small hillock and looked down on it. The work is called Conversation Piece and was created by the Spanish sculptor Juan Munaz. It consists of 22 bronze sculptures of people about 1.5 in height. The upper half of the body is of human form, but their lower half is like the base of a large scale Subbutteo footballer. The 'people' are distributed over a large area, some in groups, others on their own. You can walk around and between them whilst examining their expressions and postures. It is a little like dropping in on people's conversations which is presumably how the title of the piece was derived. There is a temptation to invent your own conversations between them based on their expressions and postures. It is said that Juan was inspired by ventriliquist dummies and this seems to make sense with your invented conversations giving them a voice. After wandering around each one, it was time to leave and I left them to their conversations and headed for the Tyne. 

River Tyne

There is a flourescent orange groyne on the south bank of the Tyne. It looks like less of a groyne and more of a Martian from War Of The Worlds. It is know as Herdus and is a guide for ships entering the river. I went up to it and even underneath it. I could have done with a large ship sailing along the river to get a good photo, but it wasn't to be. I started following the river inland. 

The coastal path drifted away from the river, up to a higher street level. I was a bit mystefied at the reason for this until I got to the top of the steps and saw two large cannons pointing at me. An information board told me that these were replicas of some Napoleonic cannons that once stood here. The originals had been used for armaments manufacture during WWII. I suppose if they had to be melted down, then another was as good excuse as any. There were also two tall stone pillars nearby that were used as sights for boats navigating the river, pretty much the same as the High and Low lighthouses on the north bank. 

Arbeia Roman Fort

The England Coast Path signs diverted me to the Arbeia Roman Fort. Arbeia translates to 'place of the Arabs.' Supposedly some bargemen from the River Tigris had at one time been based at the fort and so maybe they had something to do with the name. The fort was used as a hub to receive resources from ships and then transport these up the Tyne to garrisons along Hadrian's Wall. 

The large area was surrounded by a security fence and I wandered up the street to the main entrance. I was intrigued when I saw that some buildings had been constructed to resemble the Roman fort. I was delighted when I saw 'Free Entry' emblazoned on the walls of the entrance building. Unfortunately the gates were locked. The sign said that the place was only open between April and September. An official looking woman stood on the other side of the gates and I presume she was the greeter for the site. I'd seen some school busses disgorging some bored looking school kids back up the street. Maybe I could tag on to the school party. 'I'm afraid we aren't open until April' the woman called to me. 'Yes. I just read your sign. I'm afraid I'm not here in April. I just wanted to take a few photos of the site. I need them to complete my PHD thesis on Roman Forts.' I dabbed my wet cheeks with a hanky in the hope that I could tug on her heartstrings. 'Yes. That is a shame' she said without a hint of sarcasm. She obviously had no heartstrings, never mind a heart. I turned around and started making my way back to the river. 

Facebook Photographer

There are a lot of new house developments on the south side of the Tyne. They are decent enough, but like most modern buildings, lack soul. They also look a bit small for my needs. They are in a good position though for viewing boats entering and exiting the Tyne. In one of the old docks, half dozen ornamental galleons had been setup. They felt a little misplaced somehow. As I turned around to continue on my journey, a man appeared out of one of the nearby houses with a face that screamed that he wanted to talk to me. I wondered if there was some local by-law preventing anybody photographing the model galleons. 'Are you the one who posts photographs on Facebook?' he asked me. 'Well, I am one of the three billion people that do that, yes' I told him. Well, I didn't really, but I wish I had done. 'Do you mean photos specific to this local area? I'm afraid I'm only visiting.' I told him. 'Oh. Okay. I thought you were him.  He does lovely photos.' The man was visibly disappointed. I told him that I was walking the coast between Scotland and the Humber, but it was obvious that he wasn't interested. In fact, I'd hardly finished my sentence before he'd wandered off and gone back indoors again. It's not the first time in my life that I've failed to live up to somebody's expectations. 

South Shields

I reached the jetty for the ferries that commute passengers across the Tyne. South Shields and the ferry is familiar to me since I ran the Great North Run for a number years and used the ferry to return to my accommodation in Tynemouth. The ferry was my turnaround point for my walk and I headed for South Shields' town centre. The first shop I came to had some clothes hung from a rail outside the entrance to the shop. 'Any item for £1'  stated a handwritten notice on the rail. I'm always up for a bargain and so I examined the produce. I concluded that they were overcharging. Suffice to say, the centre of South Shields could do with a bit of investment, although I guess that could be said for a lot of northern towns. I guessed it would have a Greggs and it didn't let me down. I bought a sandwich and sat on a bench outside a building that claimed it was an amusement arcade and casino. Its upper storey was a Tanning Studio, where a large sign said that you could be fried for a few extra free minutes if you made a block booking. Not far away was the 'Shields European Store' proudly displaying a Union Jack and European Flag. A curiosity that I hadn't expected in Brexit Britain. I finished my sandwich and continued down the high street, back towards the sea. 

I walked through South Marine park, an oasis of trees, lawns and a lake. I was feeling a bit thirsty and so I dropped into the Toney Minchellas' café for a coffee. The Minchellas evidently have some sort of a monopoly of coffee houses along the northeast coast. I'm not sure how they procured these. Maybe competitors one day awoke to find that they were sharing their bed with a severed horse's head. 'A present from Toney.' Who knows. The internet told me that Toney moved on to the big Coffee House in the sky in 2007 and that now the business is run by his sons. To be fair, their premises seem modern, clean and the coffee is okay for the price. 

Aussie Rules

'That looks like a heavy backpack you got there mate!' This came after a Spaniel had just wandered between my legs from behind, as I was reading an information board. For one bizarre moment, I thought that the dog had spoken to me. I realised that this was unlikely and I turned around to find an oldish guy, who I correctly identified as the dog's owner. I told him that my pack contained my cameras and there wouldn't be much chance of getting them out in this rainy weather. 'You sound a long way from home' I said to him. He said that he'd come over from Australia in 1981 and had no regrets. The rain and cold of northeast England didn't bother him. 'Australia was almost unlivable with the heat when I was there, gawd knows what it's going to be like when climate change gets a hold.' I told him that people would have to start living underground. 'Yeah, they do already in some parts of the country. I worked at a mine and lived in the desert for a while. All it gave me was a bit of money and skin cancer.' 

Return

My return, back along the coast was a damp affair. The rain was very persistent. One walker strolled by me and announced 'I'm going to need webbed feet if it keeps up like this.' At Marsden Bay, the tide was on its way out and I could see some people walking out to Marsden Rock. A couple of them seemed to be getting very close to those caves at its base where the sea was gradually undermining the rock above. Those folk were braver than me. 

Back at the carpark, I dumped my rucksack in the car and wandered over to Souter Lighthouse to have a peruse. The Captain's Log of my perusal can be found in NT Souter Lighthouse. 

Despite the weather, the walk had been really enjoyable. There was hardly any moment when something didn't hold my interest. It also had the advantage of finishing at Souter Lighthouse and the opportunity to have a gander in the place.