Alum Land

There is an eclectic collection of buildings at Sandsend with a pedestrian footpath that seems to be suspended over the sea. A sign warns that under heavy seas, the footpath and accompanying road will be sprayed with sea water. It sounded like another good reason to get back before Storm Isha made its entrance. 

Some steps led up the hillside from the carpark at the end of Sandsend beach. Reaching the top of the steps I was greeted by a couple of old railway carriages, the likes of which you can still find being used on South Yorkshire local lines. It looked like these particular ones were being used as holiday accommodation now. Having commuted on the South Yorkshire version, I hope these conversions had comfier seating. The path got treacherously icy for a hundred yards or so and I thought I might be in for a difficult day, if it was all going to be like this. Fortunately, the ice disappeared by the time I reached the cinder track of the old railway line, and I was then able to progress with ease. I followed the old line and paused intermittently to admire the wonderful views back along the coast to Sandsend and Whitby beyond. Alum mining had been carried out on this stretch of the coast for centuries  (indeed, it has been on a lot of the Yorkshire coast) and the remains of the industry can still be seen. Alum was used as a fixative for dye and had a complicated manufacture process that involved the use of human urine. I wondered how fragrant clothes were after using Alum. Shale was the source of the alum and this was quarried from the hillside. A huge quarry at Deep Grove is clearly visible and deposits of used shale litter the coast on this particular walk. At Sandsend Ness I took a diversion from the path, to wander over a whole area covered with shale debris. It was a bit like walking on the moon. Well, it would have been if there wasn't a massive sea in clear view. 

Childerhouse

The easy cinder track terminated at the old railway tunnel. I'd just like to take the opportunity to thank the grafitti scribe who had felt inspired to inform the world that 'Childerhouse Luvs Cock' on the wooden doors of the tunnel. I sincerely hope that whatever differences the scribe and Childerhouse may have had in the past, are now satisfactorily resolved for both parties. 

It was easy to see why the Civil Engineers had decided to plump for a tunnel; the railway line had turned inland into a clough and the coastal, vertical cliffs prevented any practical alternative. At first, I thought this was the end of my line too, but a track branched away from the cinder track and headed off up into the woods of the clough. 'Crikey! It looks a bit steep up there' I thought. And indeed it was, but with the assistance of a couple of wooden staircases, I managed to struggle up. It would have been impossible without them. 

Cliff Walking

At the top of the clough, the official footpath actually differed from the route shown on the OS map; rather than follow the cliffs on the coast, it took a more direct route northwards across a field. I didn't really mind this since the OS map route along the cliffs looked particularly boggy. Even so, the new alternative route wasn't much better and my feet and trekking pole were soon clogged with mud. It wasn't long before I re-joined the cliffs and was presented with some stunning views. These cliffs were huge. The path was squeezed between the fields and the cliffs, but there was plenty of room. There were no fences separating the fields from the track and so I never felt I was going to slip on to some barbed wire (one of my constant fears on muddy paths). I'd not seen any England Coastal Path signs today, although I'd seen some Cleveland Way ones at Sandsend. Halfway between Sandsend and Kettleness I came across a handcrafted sign that somebody had scorched on to some plastic and screwed to a wooden post. The northward arrow said Helmsley 75 and the the southward one said Filey 37. Both Filey and Helmsley are the start/finish points for the Cleveland Way. In reality both towns are actually both south of this point, but due to the nature of the Cleveland's Way route, you have to go north from here, and then south to get to Helmsley. It felt a little odd that somebody had taken the time to create the sign and then set it up at such a remote location. 

Kettleness

I slipped and slid my way towards Kettleness along the muddy track. At one particular uphill point, I felt I was on the Gladiator's Travelator, with every two steps of ascent being accompanied by one slide back down. The sun was out now though and so the mud didn't darken my mood too much. I finally reached the terminus point of my previous walk from the north. Officially, I could have turned around at this point, with the connection point on my Northeast England Coast Path Venture ticked, and return to Sandsend with my head held high. It was only 10:45 though and so I decided to carry on to Kettleness, which I estimated was only 20 or 30 minutes further northwards. The final field into Kettleness was on completely dry grass. If only the rest of the trail could have been like this. The quaint village of Kettleness was just as I'd remembered it and I found the bench that I'd used on my previous walk. According to a plaque on the seat'...Elizabeth Ann Armstrong Roper used to love to sit here.' I could see why too. There was an exquisite view along the coast northwards. The toy town of Runswick Bay was nestled in the next bay along and beyond that I could see the massive Boulby Cliffs, which I'd only ascended yesterday (see Plugging The Staithes Boulby Gap). The weather looked far better over there now than the gale I'd experienced yesterday. An old Collie came out of Kettleness Farm and barked an instruction that I shouldn't consider progressing northwards along the Cleveland Way. It couldn't be bothered to walk the 100 yards across to me though, and it seemed to get bored and went back into the farm. 

I'd had half an idea about taking a more direct inland route on my way back, but I couldn't really see the point of swapping tremendous cliffside views for boggy fields, and so I decided to return Sandsend on the route I'd used on my outward journey. 

Return

Given that storm Isha was imminent, the sea looked amazingly calm. Even the mildly strong morning wind had dropped to a breeze. The sun was out full time too. This was obviously the calm before the storm. The return route was as equally as boggy as I'd found it earlier in the day. I'd only seen one other walker on the path this morning, but there was quite a stream of people using the path now. Quite a few people were using wellingtons and so I assumed they were local and were familiar with the conditions. The descent into the clough proved quite interesting on the steep, muddy steps. A couple kindly waited at the bottom as I made an undignified barnacle like descent. It was easier going up the steps than coming down. They felt more like a ladder on the descent and it might have been easier If I'd turned around and faced the steps. The constructors had provided a bannister at each side which gave some needed security. 

The crowds were out at Sandsend. I was a little surprised at its popularity, given that, apart from the beach and the superb views, there aren't that many facilities there. There's a couple of cafes and pubs and that's about it. There were plenty of people making use of the free carparking on my return. It smelt like the people in the Motorhome next to me were cooking up a late brunch. It had just gone 13:00; I'd beaten Storm Isha with 5 hours to spare. I guess it hadn't been a race really.

It'd been a really enjoyable walk with some spectacular cliff views along the Yorkshire coastline. Admittedly it'd been a tad muddy, but it'd been well worth the effort.