Ravenglass to St Bees – 6th May 2022
Ravenglass to Drigg
Yesterday saw us complete a challenging day including a gruelling bike push along the beach, and then through sand dunes; a worrying cycle along a busy A road; finding ourselves unable cross the swollen Esk Estuary and then finally being delayed on our train journey back to the caravan.
We have decided to give-up on the train, for today’s journey to the start of the next leg, in favour of using our car. At least we are confident that we won’t have to sit at Barrow Station for over an hour!
The drive presents no problems and we arrive at St Bees in good time. The last time we were here was in 2016, when we started our Coast to Coast walking adventure. Tradition has it that you are supposed to collect a pebble off the beach and carry it all the way to Robin Hood’s Bay, nearly 200 miles away on the Yorkshire Coast. You are also supposed to dip your toe in the Irish Sea. We did the former, but Betty unfortunately over-did the latter and was engulfed by a wave, causing her to fall on her bottom and get a good drenching. As I write, I am happy to learn that Alfred Wainwright’s walking masterpiece has finally been recognised as worthy of National Trail status. About time! Having walked it ourselves, it would have been useful to have been able to follow waymarks, or had it marked on an OS map.
I suppose it does afford me the opportunity of saying to my grandchildren “In my day we had to find our own way, not follow these new-fangled sign-posts. Kids – they don’t know they’re born!” (Heaven forbid that I should do!)
This time we avoid the sea completely and cycle down to the station to wait for the train which will shuttle-us the short distance to Ravenglass. As the train pulls in, a number of well-laden walkers alight. They appear to be heading off to start the Coast to Coast Path.
“Only 200 miles to Robin Hood’s Bay.” I call out to them, by way of encouragement.
“Not for us”, one of them ripostes, “finished it yesterday. Off home now for a nice hot bath and sleep for 2 days!”
Well done them, I think. It took us 2 years to do it, dividing it into two 2-week sections – spread over successive Septembers.
Our task today should be a lot simpler than theirs and hopefully simpler than yesterday’s. Most of today’s route is on minor roads and a few cycle tracks.
The day starts well, with the train dropping us off at Ravenglass, where we have a brief deja-vu moment before preparing ourselves to cycle north along the coast back to St Bees. There is rain in the air, so Betty decides to tog-up ready, cloaking herself in her pancho. A very fashionable look that one.
Ravenglass is a rather isolated village being inaccessible from the south (as we discovered yesterday afternoon) and offering only the narrowest of foot-ways over the River Mite to Salcoats on its north bank.
St Bees Station
Betty models the latest in cycling fashion at Ravenglass Station
The tide is low, exposing acres of grey slimy mud, on a very grey and distinctly moist May morning. So, Salcoats offers us a slippery ride over a mud coated cycle-way, although at least we got the tides right, since it evidently topped the track a few hours earlier.
At Salcoats we are glad to pick up a minor road taking us through the hamlet and uphill to the A595. At this point we decide not to take the main road, having been scared shitless by some of the maniacs driving it yesterday. Our cunning plan is to take the bridleway across fields and over the river Irt to Drigg. We soon discover that bridleways may be fine for travel by horse, but less attractive by bike. The hummocky terrain eventually demands that we dismount, as we negotiate a field full of grumbling sheep (I suspect it would be a little unnerving if they did otherwise and broke-out into broad grins!).
Our crossing of the River Irt is by way of the rather charming Holme Bridge – an ancient, stone packhorse bridge. The map indicates that there are several other bridleways around Drigg, which once must have offered pretty rudimentary access along the coast here. That is until the A595 replaced them two-or-three hundred years ago. Nonetheless, I would definitely recommend this option to cyclists and walkers, over the main road alternative.
The rough field on the far side requires us to repeat our bike-pushing, as we trudge through the lush wet grass. It is just as well that we cycle in hiking boots, otherwise our feet would be sodden. However, by the time we reach Drigg, the drizzle has graduated to full-on rainfall and I decide to tog-up in pancho and over-trousers also.
Drigg to Seascale
Despite the rain, the downhill cruise along the B5344 to Seascale, is an easy ride into this pleasant Victorian seaside resort. The village became a seaside resort when the Cumbrian Coast Railway was built in 1850 attracting holiday-makers to the Irish Sea coast and the nearby Lake District.
However, since the Second World War the area has been dominated by the nuclear power station at Sellafield, with many of its workers now living in this pleasant Cumbrian village. I suspect the presence of a uranium and plutonium reprocessing plant does little to enhance the village as a tourist destination these days but it probably keeps the cost of housing significantly lower.
On this damp, windswept morning there is little evidence of tourism to be seen anywhere, other than perhaps the bag of used incontinence pads abandoned in the bus shelter. We decide not to have a tea-break here, thank you!
Seascale to Sellafield
The anticipated “traffic-free cycle route” indicated on the OS 1:25000 scale map, between the coast and the railway line, turns out to be no more than a narrow footpath along the top of low sand dunes. In places the surface improves, but never for long. Eventually it gives up the ghost completely as a result of coastal erosion, where the River Calder meets the sea. We elect not to go for a paddle or pick-up souvenir pebbles here and negotiate the complex path and footbridge arrangement over the river, before pausing to admire the 6 metre high fence, topped with razor wire, which ensures no-one accidentally trespasses on the land of the former Royal Ordnance Factory at Calder Hall Farm – now better known as Sellafield.
Holme Bridge over the River Irt – a scheduled monument
Seascale – Victorian tourist destination turned dormitory town for Sellafield Nuclear Power Plant
The ‘traffic free cycle route’ to Sellafield is a little disappointing
3-metre high fence, razor wire and private railway line at Sellafield
The massive nuclear power facility of Sellafield is described in Wikipedia as covering 650 acres – 3.25 km2. That’s about 17 Buckingham Palaces (including grounds). However a quick look at the map suggests it might be even bigger. So I’ve done a bit of digging, with Sellafield themselves claiming it covers 6 km2. They also add that there are over 200 nuclear facilities on site (but that may include the site canteen and the toilets I suppose). Sellafield claim they have a workforce of 11,000, but of course their supply chain accounts for far more jobs, many of whom are employed locally.
When we walked the Coast to Coast Path in 2016 we crossed the main ‘rat-run’ between Sellafield and the north Cumbrian towns, just as the afternoon shift was ending – hundreds of cars in a never-ending stream. When talking to a taxi driver about local attitudes to the plant, he suggested most people were not really concerned about any radiation issues – unsurprisingly it seems that jobs trump safety in an area of high unemployment.
There have been many safety questions over the years, but I am most intrigued that Sellafield states the following in one job advert. “now we’re the world’s first movers into environmental remediation.” It seems that if you mess-up big-time over the last 70 years, but start to clean it up, then you can get good mileage out of it in your promotional literature. One of their partners (Franks Portlock) involved in cleaning-up the masses of asbestos waste, confirmed how dangerous the site is to work in for their staff – referring to “their work at one of the most complex and hazardous nuclear sites in the world.”
Obviously the jury is out on Sellafield, but my preference would not be to work in such a place, whilst many locals probably have little choice. I suspect that one day we will look at current nuclear installations through the lens of the future and draw comparisons with coal mining, oil and gas extraction and other questionable industries – with regard to safety and environmental health issues.
Sellafield
Half a mile further along the cycle track we arrive at Sellafield Station, which must be very busy at certain times of the day, with over 250,000 passenger movements in 2019/20.
Here we are required to join the main access road to the plant, electing instead to push our bikes along the pavement. The joy of ‘Legging Round Britain’ is that walking and cycling are easily interchangeable. Eventually we are able to turn-off the road, following the waymark signs directing us past the site of the now decommissioned Windscale AGR ‘golf ball.’
Sellafield Station – during one of its quieter moments between shifts
Sellafield construction continues in the distance, as Betty decides to use Shanks’ Pony without the assistance of wheels
The Windscale AGR nuclear power plant ‘golf ball’ at Sellafield
Betty is a little concerned, as she needs a wild-wee and imagines she must be on at least one CCTV wherever she chooses to squat. She does eventually find a quiet corner of a field, but who knows what sort of gizmos are hidden hereabouts, threatening to expose her via the Internet.
Sellafield to St Bees
With some relief, we put Sellafield behind us, but then again, some of it may well be inside our lungs – forever! A specially built and very nicely surfaced cycle track takes us to the now disused branch railway line leading towards Egremont. This branch line was built in the 1850s to carry iron ore mined around Cleator (pronounced “Clait-uh”). Between the 1930s and 1980s various sections of this railway were closed, leaving an excellent network of footpaths/cycleways. We followed some of it in 2016, whilst walking the Coast to Coast Way.
We are currently following the number 72 cycle route, which confusingly splits at Beckermet. Our preferred option is to follow the section going south west to Braystones and from there along the cliff-top road to St Bees. At Braystones we catch a brief glimpse of Braystones Tower – a folly built by William Henry Watson to commemorates Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee.
The coast road along the cliff top only climbs to 43 metres above sea-level, but it has a wearisome number of ups and downs along it 4 mile, rain-spattered traverse. Low cloud and persistent rain conspire to obstruct any view and to dampen our spirits, before we eventually pull-in to St Bees.
We pause briefly near the station to admire the memorial to St Bega who unwittingly gave her name to the town. Legend has it that she wanted to build a nunnery here and approached the Lord of Egremont for some land. He treated it as a joke and promised she could have any land that was covered by the snow next day – Midsummers Day. However, it did snow and Bega got her wish (I can imagine Lord Egremont’s surprise at this being the origin of the expression “It Bega’s belief!”).
Finally, one last hill takes us back to the car at St Bees car park. We are ready for our scheduled rest day tomorrow – to visiting the Lake District. Our next section will involve walking along the coast by way of St Bees Head. Hopefully the weather will be a little kinder to us.
A stone bridge carrying the Whitehaven, Cleator and Egremont Railway
Braystones Tower, built by William Watson to commemorate the Diamond Jubilee of Queen Victoria. Today the view from the top is dominated by the Sellafield complex
St Bega’s monument close to St Bees Station
The Legend of St Bega