Parton to Allonby – 9th May 2022
Since we are based in our caravan near Allonby, it makes sense to start and finish today’s cycle ride from base-camp. This involves a cycle ride to Maryport, where we catch the train to Parton on the Furness Line. Since we are still in the midst of the Covid pandemic we prefer to ride with our bikes in the bike compartment, the windows wide open and well away from any other passengers. Fortunately there are few of the latter, so we feel pretty safe. Masks of-course go on, as soon as anyone starts coughing in the adjacent carriage!
Parton to Westfield
At Parton we have to take care descending from the train, as for some reason there is a particularly large drop to the platform level, we survive this early challenge and wheel our bikes down to road level. It’s a couple of days since we last climbed onto our bikes, but our legs and balancing organs still appear to retain the memory.
As Betty belts off down the road back towards Allonby, I have to fiddle about with some minor adjustment, but soon catch-up with her. This is just as well, as she hasn’t the slightest idea which direction to go.
“Betty disappears down the road at Parton – but does she know where she’s going?”
Parton is typical of many of the towns and villages with stations on the Cumbrian Coast Line. It is a surprisingly small settlement to have its own railway station. Most of the housing stock is 19th and 20th Century terraced houses and most of the inhabitants are working class folk who live and work locally. This is in marked contrast to the towns and villages of the Lake District, largely geared to tourism and with a local population, significant numbers of whom are well-healed and do not work locally.
Parton is unlikely to ever become a tourist Mecca, even though Seascale further down the coast started life as just that. It is not a ‘chocolate box’ village, but I’m sure it is a pleasant place to live. It is close to the sea and not far from some incredible mountain scenery. This whole coast-line has some fascinating industrial history too. In fact it reminds me a great deal of the North East, it too a working class industrialised area on the coast. However, the Cumbrian Coast is much quieter and more isolated than its north-eastern cousin. This is part of its charm, but also the cause of much of its economic deprivation.
One thing however, works in the area’s favour – the charming little railway that runs along much of the length of its coast. Today will sadly be the last day we travel along the coast using this train.
As we leave Parton, we are overtaken by three young ladies – evidently much fitter than ourselves. One of them is riding one of those intriguing contraptions with three wheels driven by someone lying on their back. Not my cup of tea I confess. Betty is drawn along by their enthusiasm as she climbs up the hill at the far end of the village.
“Betty!” I shout, pointing to a turn-off that the map says we need to take,“It’s this way.”
She returns, probably ruing the wasted energy spent climbing up the hill in pursuit of the ladies cycling club. We make our way down to the beach, only to discover that no path exists. I recheck the map and realise we do have to climb the hill after-all. I here you asking now “Does he know where he is going?”
Shame-faced I lead the way back up to where she has already cycled and then onto the main road. It is at this point that Betty calls me back and I reluctantly return to address her concerns regarding my navigational skills.
“Are you sure it’s not this way?” She suggests, indicating the cycle track that the passing ladies probably disappeared up earlier. She is of-course right, but I swallow my pride and acknowledge my second error in a similar number of minutes. I think it might well-be time to hang-up my navigating boots!
“A pleasant bit of Parton beach – but not where we should be. Does he know where he’s going?”
“Parton and its stretch of coastline, with one of the ever-present 2-carriage trains passing through.”
We have passed from the village of Parton to the equally small village of Lowca (population 888).
A well placed information board tells us that yet another colliery existed here. Likewise iron and steel production and a locomotive works. The latter made the locomotive that worked on the Talyllyn slate mine railway in Snowdonia.
Our three cycling ladies were probably on the lookout for the local railway line that supplied the colliery and the locomotive works. This may have closed many years ago, but it is part of the complex of lines between Cleator and Workington that now offer excellent traffic-free cycle paths.
We however, are more interested in following the coastline and the England Coast Path. A few hundred metres further and we part ways with the England Coast Path, realising that it drops down towards sea level. Fortunately for us, a nice looking track leads us on an upward trajectory giving us an excellent view of Harrington below us. Between us and Harrington harbour is another inclined plane, which carried a mineral line from here, at the site of John’s Pit, down to the harbour below. It was known as Bain’s Tramway.
The previous inclined plane took us on foot to Whitehaven harbour, but this time we have the benefit of our bikes to carry us its entire 1.5 mile length. As we free-wheel downhill, the land here supports a very different aspect of the energy production industry – wind turbines. The wind rattling across the Irish Sea provides clean energy, unlike its 19th century counterpart coal, which has long since disappeared. This whole coastline is awash with wind farms, which only add to its charms. I have to question the present governments dislike of onshore wind turbines. Yes they are big and change the landscape significantly, but there are many areas such as this where they enhance it rather than detract from it. My suspicion is that the objectors are mostly pale, stale and male – more worried about the precedent set, that might undermine their desire to keep them away from their rural idylls.
Looking around I spot another sustainable source of energy production being developed on the site of John’s Pit – biomass. I used to work adjacent to the landfill site at Pitsea, adjacent to the River Thames in Essex. The Pitsea site was planted with willow once the site was no longer active. Both sites now support a quick-growing tree which can be harvested every few years and chipped for use in biomass boilers.
One of the highlights of the day is our descent of Bain’s Tramway – a nice easy way to travel and be carbon neutral at the same time.
“The abandoned colliery land of John’s Pit is now being planted with willow, probably for use in biomass energy generation.”
“The picturesque harbour at Harrington.”
Wesfield to Workington Station
Beyond Harrington harbour the coast path follows a reasonably level course along cycle-able paths between the railway and the sea. The top of the beach is littered with irregular lumps of iron slag. Still further along is an intriguing line of 8-foot tall lumps of iron slag which must have solidified in the slag pot, before being emptied out onto the beach. Judging by the relatively small number of ‘ingots’ and the fact that they have been arranged in a line between the beach and the railway, I suspect this was not the usual place for dumping slag from the nearby Moss Bay Hematite Iron and Steel Co. More likely they were asked to dump them by the railway company to protect the rail line from coastal erosion. Checking 1888-1913 Six Inch OS map, a number of mineral lines once ran alongside, so dumping the ingots would have not been difficult.
The narrow strip of land between sea and railway was probably significantly wider 100 years earlier. A bund has been built on the seaward side of the line to offer some protection from the sea, but I imagine it must be quite an exciting rail journey in high winds and rough seas. World sea-levels have only crept-up some 10cms over the last 20 or 30 years, but I suspect British Rail must be considering ways of adding to this protection in the near future.
Further north the area to the west of the railway line opens out to reveal the extent of the former steel works. 100 ft high hills must have been the primary location for the dumping of slag from the former steel works.
Eventually the path allows us to cross under the railway line by way of a tunnel, where a rather pleasant fishing pond attracts a couple of optimistic angers. On the 1888 map this is marked as a reservoir, although its purpose is not clear – possibly as a source of water for steam locomotives.
Beyond the reservoir the official coast path follows a rather unattractive path between the railway and an adjacent trading estate. It is the sort of place you don’t want to be alone on at any time of day, with the only exits a mile apart, with high barbed-wire fencing hemming it in. A much more attractive route would be to follow the coast. Perhaps that will be an option in years to come?
At the northern end of the track-side path we pause to look back down the line, where the west (right-hand) side of the railway would have been dominated by the steel works – now the land lies derelict.
The coast path turns-off north west from the road here towards the mouth of the harbour. Uncertain of the quality of the surface for cycling and more interested in finishing back at the caravan site before night-fall, we stick to the road, which brings us out at Workington rail station and the mouth of the River Derwent. The former must have been a busy station at one time, boasting four tracks between its two platforms.
The River Derwent drains Derwent Water in the Lake District and is a river renowned for its habit of flooding Keswick, Cockermouth and various other settlements along its course – including Workington. On 19th November 2009 12.5 inches of rain fell at nearby Seathwaite Farm in the Lake District – half of a month’s rainfall in a single day. This was the most ever to fall in Britain since records began 200 years ago.
“Betty considers a bit of mountain-biking between Harrington and Workington”
“Lumps of rough slag are scattered across the top of the beach at Moss Bay”
“8-foot tall bucket-shaped ‘ingots’ of slag offer some protection for the coast railway.”
“Salterbeck Reservoir – now a community wildlife and fishing lake.”
“Looking back down the track, south towards Moss Bay”
“Workington rail station. The number of former tracks suggest it was a much busier station in years gone-by.”
“A side creek of the River Derwent seen from Town Quay.”
Workington Station to Siddick
The newly built bridge, which carries New Bridge Road, is a busy thoroughfare, but the England Coast Path takes a slightly different route by way of the car park of Workington Town Rugby League Stadium. I recall Workington Town Rugby League Club from my youth, when a child in Rotherham. I’m sure I must have watched them on the TV with commentary by the legendary Eddie Waring back in the 1960s. It is therefore a nostalgic to actually visit the place.
As we leave the northern end of the car park, the most notable thing is Japanese Knot-weed growing in profusion. Probably the fastest growing plant in the UK. This is never a good sign adjacent to any building, as its roots threaten foundations.
Beyond however, is a sight that brings back unpleasant memories of walking the coast path near Rainham in Kent. This derelict land has been adopted by a number of large white caravans. Outside, in cages, are several dogs barking aggressively. One of them is a surly-looking bulldog and although I hate the sight of caged animals, I am glad this one is not running free.
In Kent we passed a traveller site which had 2 or 3 huge hounds chained-up. You could hear them barking at each other, a mile distant. Thankfully they too were not running loose, but nonetheless a smaller dog did come out and nip at Betty’s legs. Fortunately she was wearing gaiters, but the owner was totally unapologetic about it.
This is obviously a clash of cultures – one a settled, land-owning culture, the other nomadic tied to nothing but their caravans and their livestock. All over the world there are similar clashes of culture and the UK is no different. Neither group trusts the other – probably with good reason, but it is a sad situation to find in a modern country like the UK.
We don’t bide our time long here and are thankful to be away from the sense of threat that hovers over the place. As caravaners ourselves, who love travelling about the country, I can see the attraction of being relatively footloose and bohemian, but I always enjoy returning to my home base and getting-on with my neighbours reasonably well. It must be quite wearing to be constantly moved-on by authority and I wonder if the number of traveller folk in the UK is growing or diminishing today. Nonetheless, I suspect they are much more resilient and happier than so-called ‘settled-folk’, who find themselves homeless and probably through no fault of their own.
“Workington Town Rugby League Club stadium – a blast of nostalgia.”
“Japanese Knot-weed sends its shoots skyward – and its roots into the foundations of the stadium.”
“A traveller camp pitched next to Workington Town RLC.”
We put Workington behind us as we follow the England Coast Path directions westward, north of the docks. We have entered an industrial area including gas storage tanks and the biggest collection of felled timber I have ever seen stored in one place.
The coast path signs take us right, through a tubular steel gate. A group of workmen, dressed to the eyeballs in PPE are gathered around a large white van. I immediately feel like a trespasser as we casually pedal past them. Why is that? Is it our lack of PPE? Sitting astride a bicycle? Or that we have just entered an industrial area beyond which are an array of massive wind turbines.
They barely give us a second glance as we continue unchallenged along the tarmac road. A second sign sends us left and we are now cycling in amongst these 200 metre tall wind turbines. Their enormous blades cut through the air above us and I half expect them to take-off. They are an awesome sight. Betty is not too comfortable with all these massive lumps of metal and glass fibre wooshing just above our heads. The sound of them, although not particularly loud, is a little unnerving. I have an image of a knight in armour whirling his sword above his head and I wonder if one will suddenly dip down and remove mine from my shoulders.
Riding through the wind farm is a pretty daunting experience and I feel like a small mouse surrounded by a herd of elephants. Fortunately these beasts are rooted to the spot and are well spaced, so our passage goes unhindered.
This is an example of repurposing former industrial land. The 1888 OS map reveals that this was the site of the Workington Hematite Iron and Steel Works. Doubtless those working in the factory thought they had jobs for life, just like some of my neighbours back in Rotherham during the 1960s and 70s. History and Geography teach us that the world of work is ever-changing. Natural resources run-out, modes of transport change and new technologies replace the old.
Adjacent to the wind farm is a nice expanse of sandy beach, which I suspect is not much frequented, next to the rotating giants and not a mile from Workington Docks. It’s funny how we humans crowd to the more popular beaches like penguins in an Antarctic colony – all packed-in – perhaps because we feel reassured by numbers. But I can imagine sitting alone on this beach, perhaps with my grand-children, building sand castles and topping them off with our own miniature versions of the behemoths watching over us.
The wind farm (Siddick Wind Farm) was commissioned in 1995, with the 7 turbines due to run for a further 10 years before the land is restored. I wonder why they just can’t be replaced with newer and more efficient ones once their time is up. If this is the best site for capturing wind, why not just dedicate it to energy exploitation?
“Massive timber storage facility north of Workington Docks”
“This tall white monster blocks our way”
“A nice secluded beach – if you don’t mind the whoosh of rotating blades.”
Siddick to Flimby
Beyond the wind farm we have to push our bikes up the side of a clinker mountain (well a steep-side hill anyway). This is what we termed a slag-heap when I was a kid – the unwanted spoil from a colliery, dumped close to the pit-head. This was St Helens Colliery. The slag-heaps are marked on the 1888 map and shows mineral lines radiating out across the heaps, from which trucks would have emptied the slag we are riding on.
The ground here must be acidic since it is covered with heather and young Scots pines which have grown from parent seed further inland. In time nature will claim the land back, unless of-course man has other ideas. A little further inland I can see the new paper mill built in 2013. It transpires that they are the recipients of the enormous store of logs we passed earlier. These are chipped and eventually turned into cardboard to be used for packaging. They are also behind the newly planted willow we encountered south of Workington. The factory encourage local farmers to grow willow, which in time will be big enough to go through the same chipping procedure. You can learn more about the process if you click on this link:Workington Mill | Folding Box Paperboard by Iggesund From The UK
It is not long before we encounter yet another wind farm, occupying the site of a former golf course. The presence of the former golf course is revealed by checking-out the 1888 map of the area. This is a surprise since one often thinks of disused industrial land being converted to new leisure uses, not the other way round. The 1888 OS map evidence is corroborated by checking on the satellite map. Zooming in, it is possible to see the positions of the former greens, where the grass is much greener than elsewhere. This is fascinating, because the original Workington Golf Club was formed in the late 19th Century on this site, but moved after the First World War. Nearly 100 years later it is possible to identify the 9 greens from satellite photographs.
We decide to stop for lunch adjacent to a line of boulders at the top of the beach. Doubtless these serve as protection against marine erosion, but they appear to provide a perfect habitat for a number of salt-tolerant coastal plants including Sea Cabbage, Scurvy Grass, Sea Beet and Sea Campion.
The coast path continues to follow the coast, but we decide that the path is too rough for our delicate bikes and our equally delicate, saddle-sore seats. A bridleway cuts across the railway here, enabling us to rejoin cycle route 72 once again.
“A former slag heap being reclaimed by common heather and Scots pine.”
“Further wasteland separates us from an adjacent wind farm“
Siddick Golf Links revealed – circles “Former Siddick Golf Course (greens revealed) – now the site of a wind farm.”
“Sea Cabbage”
“Sea Beet”
“Sea Campion – salt tolerant coastal species growing on the sea defences.”
As we cross the line we get a glimpse of a Cumbrian Coast Line train beetling north in the direction of Maryport. On joining the A 597 we follow the cycle path marked on the OS map. This looks a good choice at first. However, the cycle path here is little more than a wide footpath, which eventually constricts to a narrow one/pavement as we pass the New Balance and Thomas Armstrong factories. Shortly, the route 72 cycle way takes us off the main road and due east along a made-up track, before threatening to take us to Flimby by a back way. We are not sure about this and take the option of returning to the A597.
In hindsight the cycle way to Flimby would have been the more enjoyable option, avoiding the busy A597 for much of its length, only rejoining it between Flimby and Fothergill. This is the problem with using a map published in 2015 in 2022. Many things can change in the course of 7 years – perhaps this is the price of my refusal to invest in up-to-date information. However, it is not as
simple as this. The Solway Firth sheet purchased for this particular cycling holiday was last published in 2015 also. Ideally, I suppose one should check the date that the latest version of the map was published and which particular aspects of it were updated.
Our A597 pavement continues for a couple of miles, with large lorries thundering past us, through Flimby and then enables us to rejoin the route 72 track. This is indicated by blue finger posts directing us across to the west side of the A597. WE have to wait several minutes for a break in the constant traffic. The track takes us under the railway line and to the blessed peace and quiet on the west side of the railway line. Here the route follows a much nicer tarmaced trail to Maryport.
Flimby to Maryport
This new track speeds us happily towards Maryport, although our joy is short-lived, as light rain sets-in. The approach to Maryport requires us to return to roads, but fortunately not the A596 – so traffic is light. We get a good view of the River Ellen as it makes its final meander around Maryport before entering the sea. The river does not drain the high fells in the way that the Derwent at Workington does, so flooding is less of an issue here. The low lying land within the meander loop is however inundated with water for a significant amount of the year, hence lack of any kind of buildings here.
In the 12th Century a timber castle was erected on the hill overlooking this meander, but it lasted less than 100 years. The only time it was ever utilised for defensive purposes was during World War 2 when a large anti-aircraft gun was placed on its summit.
Maryport was fortified in Roman times, where it was an important port. It would have also been important for providing military support for Hadrian’s Wall. Once the Roman’s left, the town (originally known as Ellenfoot) was a small settlement. This changed in 1749 when the town was granted an act of parliament and Humphrey Senhouse created the town and port to deal with coal to Ireland and ship-building industries. He named the town after his wife (perhaps I’ll do the same for Betty one day soon?).
Today the Senhouse Docks is used by the sailing fraternity, whilst Elizabeth Dock is used by the local fishing fleet. The town draws tourist to visit the museum and is suitably close to the Lake District for visitors to there. Anyone holidaying here also has easy access by rail to Carlisle and retracing our journey up from the south coast of Cumbria.
“Betty grinds through the drizzle into Maryport. To her right the River Ellen loops around Maryport and is overlooked by Motte Hill – the site of a former castle.”
“The Elizabeth Dock is largely used by fishing boats.”
Cycling round the docks reveals a pleasant seaside harbour town, which prides itself on a number of art installations. One of these is a poem set in concrete slabs along Tongue Pier. Try as I may I can’t find the story behind this poem, but it works for this visitor to the town.
Maryport to Allonby
On the way out of town we are able to cycle for a mile along the Promenade, free from traffic, as far as the golf club and the B5300 to Allonby. Along the promenade are benches, each one dedicated to a Roman Emperor.
“The harbour at Maryport.”
“The poetry trail at Tongue Pier, Maryport”
“One of many benches on The Promenade dedicated to Roman emperors”
“The Promenade, Maryport – a mile of traffic-free cycling.”
The final couple of miles back to our caravan site at Allonby takes us along a pleasant cycle track littered with bluebells and other flowers. Overcome by the lifting of the drizzle we rejoice by electing to cycle along the beach. A bit squidgy in places and eventually curtailed by a drift of impassable rocks.
“The cycle path from Maryport to Allonby – fringed by bluebell and cow parsley.”