Allonby to Bowness-on-Solway – 11th May 2022
It is our final day of cycling in Cumbria. Today we hope to reach Bowness-on-Solway cycling on what appears to be nice low-lying and level terrain. No need to use busy A roads, or use the dubious bridleways and footpaths that we have been forced to use further south. Just those nice little winding yellow roads that appear on the 1:25,000 scale OS map.
We actually didn’t bother to cycle yesterday, because it was so windy. In fact we spent the night beforehand, listening to the wind making loud whistling noises at the back of the caravan. I spent ages trying to track down where they were coming from, before finally having to stuff something into a piece of channelling – which was doing an excellent impression of a woodwind instrument. So yesterday we went to Keswick for the day and walked around looking in the shops, before doing a fairly gentle walk near Bassenthwaite Lake.
There was very little wind in Keswick, which is hidden amongst the mountains, whereas at Allonby, open to the expanse of the Irish Sea, it seemed there was every chance of us losing our caravan awning (and maybe our caravan too!).
Thankfully the wind has dropped appreciably today, but it is still significant. This actually works in our favour, since it will be behind us all the way to Bowness-on-Solway. The big challenge however, will be returning to Allonby against it. But we have a cunning plan – we are not going to cycle back to Allonby, but to Wigton, where we can get a train to Maryport and then have the wind behind us again as we cycle back to Allonby from the south.
Allonby to Abbeytown and 9b Abbeytown to Bowness on Solway.
So we set off along the B5300 coast road towards Silloth, enjoying being carried along by the anticipated tail wind from the south. However, our preference is to be travellers of yellow – rather than brown, or red roads – so we turn off along a pleasant cow parsley-lined side road. This winds through Mawbray, before being likewise left for an even quieter road taking us back to the B5300 at Beckfoot.
Despite being a B road, this is not too busy and a mile later we take a cycle track alongside Silloth Golf Course and enter the attractive coastal town of Silloth by way of a cobblestoned road. At this point I need to consult my OS map. We are deliberating over whether or not we should follow the road North West out of Silloth, when a very nice lady interrupts us.
“Take the promenade – it’s great for cycling along. Lovely views across Solway Firth and not a car in sight.”
Local knowledge comes up trumps as we gaze across the rolling grey of Solway Firth to Scotland, some five miles distant. I feel as though we could reach out and almost touch it. We have had similar experiences elsewhere on our travels and it always feels a bit surreal going through this process, especially when the next day we find ourselves looking back from that very place and half expect to see ourselves waving to us.
But we won’t be going anywhere near Dumfries, on the other side, for many-a-year. Not as part of our Legging Round Britain tour anyway. Our aim is to complete England and Wales first. Scotland will have to wait for 5 or 6 years I suspect. If we do make it to Scotland, then Dumfries should be an attractive place to start our tour of that country. It wouldn’t surprise me if it is no longer part of the UK by then though.
“Cobblestoned Silloth High Street where we turn left to the Promenade.”
“Betty gazes dreamily towards Dumfriesshire across Solway Firth, whilst three herring gulls consider whether or not she is worth mugging for a sandwich.”
“During my 60’s childhood, Andy Stewart and Kenneth McKellar would have sung songs about this view of Scotland.”
“Silloth may boast a small harbour, but it is purely for industrial use.”
The cycle north from Silloth, along the promenade, is just a gentle turn of the pedals, as we take in the views, the fluffy white clouds hanging in a blue sky and numerous other points of interest that we pass. Silloth is not really a tourist town like Blackpool, where promenades were built as a tourist attraction. It only has a population of 3,000. My assumption therefore is that this mile-and-a-half long concrete edifice serves another purposes.
A quick check of the map reveals that any Atlantic sourced winds from the south-west probably skip over Ireland and accelerate across the Irish Sea to make landfall at Silloth. After-all, we had a taste of that at Allonby a couple of nights ago! Solway Firth acts as a natural funnel, so that any storm winds blowing from the west/south-west push the sea into the fat end of the funnel causing the sea level to rise and the waves to break further up the shore. This is called a storm surge. Further, the low pressure at the centre of these storms effectively ‘sucks’ the sea higher, increasing the height of the tide . With climate change we can expect even greater weather extremes, with the destructive storms of 2014 one such local example of this.
Further, the land adjacent to the north Cumbrian coast is particularly low-lying, so breaches of the coastal defences would have significant consequences.
The Solway Firth Partnership explains this at www.solwayfirthpartnership.co.uk. Interestingly, if you look at the “England’s Flood Risk Management” section of the web site, you will see a photograph of the ‘promenade’ at Silloth as its main picture. The Visit Cumbria website tells us that “Silloth is noted for its invigorating but mild climate.” By which I suspect it means it is windy and the rain comes down like stair rods – but horizontally.
The town largely came into being in the 1850s, with the arrival of the railway and the creation of the docks. The railway, from Carlisle, has since been closed and dismantled. The Visit Cumbria web site makes much of the large area of mown grass behind the promenade, known as “The Green”. It was this open grassy area, the mild climate and the allure of cheap rail fares that brought Carlisle working-class families in their droves during the late 19th and early 20th Centuries. However, today I imagine managing 36 acres of amenity grassland is an expensive business for a hard-pressed local authority. It would surely be much more interesting to change the mowing regime, to allow wildflower meadow to develop. It would also be a lot cheaper. Likewise, the planting of more native trees would increase biodiversity and soak-up more CO2, addressing the climate change that threatens the adjacent coast-line.
At the northern end of the promenade large white boulders are piled-up against the revetment protecting the coast here. These give some indication as to the ferocity of the wind and the seas of Solway Firth.
Looking back at “The concrete ‘promenade’ north of Silloth protects the lowland behind from inundation from the Irish Sea”
“Betty gently pedals along Silloth Promenade and The Green.”
“Hopefully this cafe will not give her ideas about swapping Billy for a newer model!”
“This impressive wood sculpture gazes longingly across to Scotland.”
“The owners of this property get to admire the renowned sunsets, but also the extreme weather of the area.”
From the northern end of The Promenade our route takes us inland via Skinburness, a small village adjacent to salt marsh. This low lying land is inundated by the sea twice daily, or at least the lower parts are. Above the salt marsh the sea probably only covers the land during extreme high tides (spring tides), or during storm events. Local monks cleared this upper marshland in AD1100 and it has been used for grazing cattle ever since. This is termed grazing marsh. The grassy sward created by grazing cattle is ideal for grazing birds such as migratory swans, geese and ducks.
The grazing marsh is separated from the farmland by a sea wall – an earth embankment to hold back high tides. The quiet road drops down to cross the grazing marsh, with the adjacent farm house needing to fit a water-tight tide gate in case of inundation from the sea.
It is possible to explore the grazing marsh and salt marsh on foot, since it is access land, open to anyone keen on such an experience. However, I don’t recommend cyclists joining-in the experience.
Currently the tide is low and we are unable to see the waters of Solway Firth from the road. We have no intention of waiting for high tide so move on. The road soon takes us back inland and across arable land. As encountered in southern Cumbria, some of the fields here are covered with what must be miles of clear plastic sheeting spread over it, to warm the spring soil.
“Grazing marsh at Skinburness.”
“This farm has taken precautions to prevent inundation by extreme tides.”
“Young crops are planted under clear plastic sheeting to warm the spring soil.”
By the time we reach Abbeytown we realise that the day is still young. Our initial plan had been to head back to Allonby from here and return to complete our Cumbria adventure tomorrow. However, Betty is keen to put the two days together and proposes that we continue to Bowness-on-Solway, before cycling to Wigton to catch the train back to Maryport and then cycle back to Allonby. She is actually quite keen to go home a day early, because tomorrow’s weather is looking a little dodgy.
We follow National Cycle Route 72 along quiet country lanes to Newton Arlosh, and Kirkbride, where we consider a pub break at The Inn at the Bush, in Kirkbride, but alas no-one appears to be home, so we press on aware that we have set ourselves a bit of a cycling challenge today.
The River Wampool separates Kirkbride from Anthorn and we pause on the bridge to enjoy the sun on the rising tide. The fine weather is quickly replaced by a sudden squall, which sends us scuttling for cover under a tree full of rooks, before we continue to Anthorn and Moricambe Bay.
“The tidal River Wampool glistens in the sunlight”
We pass through the small village of Anthorn where I observe a rather frisky border collie being returned home after a walk with his master. I think nothing of this everyday occurrence until a couple of miles further on, when I am some 200 metres ahead of Betty. She shouts to me which initially makes me think that she must be cross because I have cycled on out of sight. However, on arrival she is obviously distressed by something other than my leaving her behind.
A cyclist and his border collie pass us without a word – an unusual occurrence in my experience, since almost everyone out in the countryside says hello, especially passing cyclists.
Once he is out of hearing distance she confides. “That man’s a weirdo. Whilst you were ahead he came up behind me, but his dog ran just ahead of my front wheel. I felt sandwiched between them. Then he said “Where are you going?” Not “Hello”, just “Where are you going?” I said “I don’t know.” I was a bit rattled that he had come up close behind me and then started asking questions in such a sinister manner. So I said to him “I’m just following my husband.” He then said “Obedient little wife are we?” I just wanted to get away, but his dog was right in front of my wheel. “Tell your dog to move out of my way.” I said to him. “He’s doing no harm,” he answered. So I just put a spurt on and shouted to you.”
This makes me feel quite indignant. I take a photo of his receding figure and wondered whether I should chase after him and challenge him over his behaviour. However, I decide it better to say nothing. A little later on we passed him as he is exercising his dog in a field, but we just carry on. From then on I have an unsettling sense of vulnerability. Here we are in a fairly barren, isolated rural area where a man comes up behind a woman and makes her feel very uneasy. I start to wonder if there may be others like him and realise how unnerving it must be for a woman walking or cycling alone in such a place.
Now it seems that the whole peninsula we are on is a very barren and almost threatening place to be. Further, we pass a disused airfield, now populated by a number of extremely tall radio masts – some sort of military communications facility I suspect. The wind buffets the masts and makes the wires sing. All a bit creepy.
The incident and the location conspire me to be disinterested in cycling the coast. I just want to get away from the bad vibes of the place. The 4 miles to Bowness-on-Solway are covered at record speed.
Bowness is at the western end of Hadrian’s Wall and you get a good impression of how vulnerable legionaries must have felt out here on the extreme north-western end of the Roman Empire, whilst a mile away, separated by the Estuary of the River Eden, is Scotland.
In Roman times those posted out here must have been keenly aware of the dangers that lurked beyond, with barbarian Picts and Scots keen to put them to the sword, whilst the wet and windy winters and long dark winter nights just ground them down physically. Our own little incident with one of the local ‘barbarians’ merely adds to the moment and I can’t prevent a small shiver running down my back.
We decide that it is time to look for somewhere to sit and have our packed lunch, but seats are in short supply in Bowness, so we settle for squatting by the side of the road for 5 minutes, before heading back towards Kirkbride. For once I am glad of the extra traffic which passes to and from Wigton – some 10 miles further inland.
The ride to Wigton proves to be quite challenging, involving grinding up a few modest hills. Nonetheless, I am much more at ease here as we approach the relative civilisation provided by Wigton. From here the train whisks us to Maryport, before the final few miles of cycling back to Allonby.
“The unwelcoming bleakness of Cardurnock and the retiring figure of Betty’s weirdo on a bike”
“The wind whistles eerily through the wires and soaring towers of this military communications installation at Cardurnock.”
“One of a number of strange and rather threatening concrete bunkers at Cardurnock”
“Betty finally finds the sanctuary of a pub at Bowness-on-Solway.”
This last day was a triumph of good cycling, topping 50 miles in a single day. The wind blowing from the south west certainly helped and the weather was generally sunny. However, it was the relative flatness of the terrain which probably made the greatest impact on our cycling. Our next expedition along the coast will be on foot, generally our preferred mode of transport in hilly areas. Southern Cornwall beckons in September and promises to provide a marked contrast with the flat coastal margins of North West Cumbria.
I have to say that whilst the Cumbrian coast is not a tourist hotspot, offering few of the distractions of the neighbouring Lake District, it does have some fascinating industrial history to explore, as well as providing access to the less well-known, but nonetheless beautiful, fells and valleys of the south-western Lake District.
Throughout it all has been that wonderful Cumbrian Coast Railway, which has been an ever-present and utilised by us from Carnforth all the way to Wigton and Maryport.