St Bees to Parton – 8th May 2022
St Bees to Whitehaven
After a day’s rest we are ready to hit the trail again. Perhaps I should qualify the term ‘rest’, since it yesterday was anything but.
We like to build-in ‘rest’ days every two or three ‘working’ days for a variety of reasons. As the name implies, we take a break – not just from the exercise, but also all the other logistical stuff associated with our expedition. A day without deadlines is definitely a mental and emotional rest too. No concerns about getting-up at a given time; no worries about making it to the train or bus we are using for our return trip; no uncertainties about whether a train has been cancelled or postponed and no need to make a packed-lunch, or gather together all the other clobber we generally take with us.
Yesterday’s rest day however, also involved us moving caravan sites. Two weeks of coast walking or cycling enables us to cover a surprising distance. As a rule, once we have reached a section of coast more than 1 hour’s drive away, we like to move the caravan as close as possible to the later sections. A day spent driving for more than two hours; on top of cycling or walking; on top of any public transport used – stops being the enjoyable experience that it should be.
Quite often we end up going for a long walk on our rest day, sometimes in excess of a normal ‘working’ day, but it’s still a break from all the mental stuff. Yesterday however, we arranged to meet up with my son and his girlfriend. Alas, we first had a two hour drive to the new caravan site in the north of the county, followed by a two hour drive to Kendal and then a further 2 hours of driving back to the new site.
Thankfully, today involves a bit of light relief from being in the saddle – it’s a walking day, from St Bees to Whitehaven – and beyond if possible.
We generally cycle on bits of coast which are relatively flat, or are built-up and therefore less interesting. By contrast we walk along bits of coast which are hilly and scenic. The coast between St Bees and Whitehaven involves walking along the rough path that tops the 100 metre cliffs of St Bees Head – so most definitely a walking day!
Further relief comes in the form of being joined by my cousin Barbara, who lives not far away near Cockermouth. I haven’t seen her for several years, so it is a chance to catch-up on family news, or even retell old stories.
The new caravan site is in the north of the county, at Allonby. We therefore decide to take the train today, from Maryport to St Bees and then catch the return train from wherever our legs take us during the course of the day. I love the Furness line. The trains are only two carriages long, one of which has a dedicated section for bikes. The railway also hugs the coast, calling at some great little places – such as Arnside, Grange-over-Sands, Millom, Ravenglass, St Bees and Maryport. To top it all, the prices are low, especially with the ‘two for the price of one’ discount applicable in May 2022.
We meet up with cousin Barbara and her border collie, Cooper and after a brief session of smiles, chat and hugging (with Barbara at least – not Cooper) – we set off up the steep climb to the south of St Bees Head, being sure to avoid the beach and any risk of Betty getting a further drenching from the Irish Sea.
It’s a fair climb to the top of the cliffs and we are puffing a bit, except perhaps for cousin Barbara and of course Cooper. They are mountain folk and probably run up a fell or two before breakfast each morning. We on the other hand have let our walking legs go flabby after miles of cycling.
Once on top, the cliffs present us with excellent views across to the Isle of Man, except the Manx grey obscures it a little. We pause to indulge in a bit of bird-spotting, enjoying the comings and goings of a number of star bird species, including kittiwakes, guillemots and razorbills. I am surprised that the RSPB also add herring gull to their list of stars. In our neck of the UK, most folk would nearly choke at the idea of these fish and chip stealing, dive-bombers being classed as anything other than vermin. Betty hates them sitting on our roof and screaming at 4 in the morning. Still I’m sure even herring gulls have their attractions. I confess I find their alternative call of “fuck-fuck-fuck” quite amusing.
Alfred Wainwright’s walking masterpiece begins at St Bees
Looking south across St Bees Bay
Barbara and I pose for an album shot – Cooper has got more important smells to seek-out
Guillemot eggs are cleverly pointed to prevent them rolling off narrow cliff ledges, however they are no protection against marauding herring gulls
A little further along we can’t resist the opportunity to investigate a narrow valley leading down to a secluded bay. This is Fleswick Bay and is well worth the relatively easy descent. On the way down, we pass an area of water seepage from the cliffs. This is sufficient to provide a miniature oasis for algae and Scurvy Grass to grow on the otherwise barren, dry rocks. Scurvy Grass is not actually a grass, but a brassica (like cabbages) and takes its name from being consumed by sailors fearful of contracting the disease by that name, caused by a deficiency of vitamin C.
Down at sea level we are able to admire the mix of wave-derived pebbles from the Irish sea and fallen boulders from the cliffs. The boulders are the result of erosion of the cliff base. This creates a wave-cut notch which eventually undercuts the strata above, leading to cliff collapse. St Bees Head is the only Heritage Coastline and significant cliffs, on the north-west coast between Scotland and Wales. As such, it attracts rock climbers to its craggy, red Permo-triassic cliff face.
At the head of the exposed wave-cut platform carved out of the same Permo-triassic rocks, is a significant storm beach of large and small rounded pebbles. These are testament to the power of the storm-driven waves that lash this coast, leaving the larger pebbles behind as the storm waves subside. Betty can’t resist helping herself to a few, despite concerns that she might alter the whole of the UK’s coastal sedimentation regime by her actions. We have similar pebbles on the beach at Bexhill, not 10 miles from where we live, so I am baffled by her plundering here – instead of waiting until we get back home. Perhaps it is a legacy of us doing the Coast to Coast Way?
Fleswick Bay provides us with a fascinating opportunity to admire the cliffs, beach and flora
Groundwater seeps out of the cliffs providing a suitable niche for Scurvy Grass
Fleswick Bay is a mix of well-rounded Irish Sea derived pebbles and cliff-derived boulders
The impressive Permo-triassic cliffs attract rock climbers. They are the only significant sea cliffs between Scotland and Wales
A significant storm beach has been deposited by waves driven across the Irish Sea
Betty removes several pebbles from the beach – which could lead to tragic consequences for coastal management!
Daily erosion of the cliff base leads to the creation of a wave-cut notch – in time the overhanging cliff above will collapse
Whilst Betty goes about adding to her pebble collection, Barbara and I exchange information about our respective parents. It is amazing how much you can learn about your nearest and dearest – long passed, by chin-wagging on a good long walk. Sort of filling in the missing pieces of an incomplete jigsaw I suppose.
It would be quite easy for us to spend the whole day here, tongues clacking, but I am aware that we need to move on, if only to save the Cumbrian coast from Betty’s pebble depredations!
Before too long we arrive at the large white edifice of St Bees Lighthouse, set back a little way from the cliff edge. Built in 1866, it has undergone various updates, including the addition of a fog-horn building on the cliff edge and recent conversion of the halogen signal light to LEDs.
This looks like a good spot to take lunch, with the west-facing boundary wall of the light-house providing welcome shelter from the brisk wind. As we dine, Copper gambols about collecting the myriad of smells that only dogs can enjoy. At least we can enjoy the delights of a cheese and piccalilli sandwich on our taste-buds, between further bouts of family history revelations. However, this is the end of the latter, since cousin Barbara and the ever busy Cooper have to return to St Bees.
Further hugs and smiles are followed by Betty and I striking off north along the cliff path in the direction of Whitehaven.
At one particular point I spot an area of flat land sandwiched between the lower cliffs adjacent to the sea and some upper cliffs, set back several metres. I bend Betty’s ear about what I think its geomorphological history might be. I suspect it might be a raised beach (or former wave-cut platform) created when the sea level was higher – perhaps during an interglacial period, or maybe the land mass was once lower than it is at present. We have seen similar features on Arran, in Scotland and Prawl Point on the South Devon Coast.
This terrace between the current cliff (left) and the former sea cliff (right) could be a raised beach
Beyond North Head, the coast turns east, leading us to Birkhams Quarry. Despite it still being an active quarry, and has been since the 18th Century, all is very quiet – probably due to it being a Sunday. A well-placed interpretative sign informs us that the quarry is usually only worked in February and March (wehich explains the quiet). This is designed to reduce the impact of blasting upon nesting sea birds. Building stone has been extracted locally since medieval times and can still be admired in the cathedrals of both Liverpool and Carlisle.
At 250 million years old, these rocks were formed under the baking desert sun of the Triassic era, when early dinosaurs would have roamed these parts. Two years ago, Triassic dinosaur footprints were discovered on Penarth Beach in South Wales. We are due to walk that stretch of coast before too long (as we go ‘legging round Britain’) so I’ll make a mental note to look out for them.
Birkhams Quarry – high quality building stone has been quarried here since the 18th Century
Beyond Birkhams Quarry the coast path drops below cliff top level for a short distance, following a well defined path through a disused quarry. The path is straight and examination of the 19th Century OS map of the area reveals that it was once the course of a mineral line. We follow this up to the top of a cliff and come across a man and his young son – both riding trail bikes up from the spoil heaps adjacent to the coast below. They look a little furtive in their movements, as the father encourages his guilty-looking ten-year-old to carry on. I have no idea whether trail-biking is legal here, but it would be a pity if a dad and his son couldn’t share in a common interest, especially in an area as economically depressed as this part of Cumbria.
When we get to the top of the incline, a large expanse of derelict flat land opens out before us. This is the site of the former Marchon chemical works. Local news suggests that people are concerned about any proposed house-building anywhere near the site, which potentially has high levels of contamination due to its former land-use.
However, the site has recently hit the national and international headlines this year, since the site is the proposed location for the UK’s first new deep coal mine since 1987. The intention is to reopen the existing colliery galleries and mine coal from under the Irish Sea. The coal is high quality coking-coal for use in the UK steel industry.
The controversy pits various factions against each other. The company involved has been given planning consent by the local council, who see it as an injection of funds into the local economy. Potentially it would provide jobs for local people, many of whom are unemployed. However, the UK has just chaired the COP26 climate conference, at which delegates agreed to further reductions in CO2 emissions. Those in favour of the mine point out that the mine would be carbon neutral since the coal would not be for electricity generation, but for UK steel-making, which currently brings in coal from abroad.
This whole area is a fascinating conflict of interests, with jobs, unemployment and deprivation at the local level whilst on the other-hand the UK faces the international requirement to address Climate Change. Local economics and politics meet their National and International cousins.
Only we are not here to discuss politics, but to ‘leg-round-Britain’ on our our bikes. Ahead of us is the long straight downward gradient of the former inclined plane down-which (or up-which) a mineral line transported gypsum and alabaster until the 20th Century. We have a large gypsum mine near where we live in Battle, East Sussex, so feel a certain affinity for the site.
If we were on our bikes we would be particularly inclined to free-wheel down the mile-long inclined plane, all the way to the harbour at Whitehaven – 100 metres below us. Still it’s a nice easy walk instead.
The inclined plane from the cliff top down to Whitehaven harbour
Looking south-west back to St Bees Head from the bottom of the inclined plane
Our downward march continues towards the former Haig Colliery
Haig Colliery and its winding engine house, now the site of a mining museum
Whitehaven to Parton
The inclined plane brings us to the Haig Colliery, which was the last Cumbrian deep coal mine to be closed – in 1986. The galleries went up to 4 miles out to sea, below the Solway Firth. Over 1700 men, women and children died in the colliery, infamous for being particularly gassy in nature.
The final few metres down to the harbour require us to make our way down some steps to the site of yet another former pit – the Wellington Colliery. Here 136 men and boys died in 1910, due to an explosion caused yet again by gas escaping from the coal-bearing rocks. All that remains today is the ornate ‘candlestick’ chimney and an impressive mosaic commemorating the dead.
The site of the Wellington Pit – only the ornate candlestick chimney remains
The mosaic memorial to those who worked and died underground
Our downward route eventually bottoms-out at the harbour, which has a modern marina look and feel to it. Like Ramsgate in Kent (visited a couple of years ago during our travels), it combines historic harbour structures with modern day sailing and motor vessels. The harbour has evidently seen the back of much of its early industrial port activity, with the closing of the local mines. Today’s vessels are more likely to belong to the well-healed yachtsman. The harbour area abounds with art installations and sculptures, as well as the sort of refreshment establishments we found in Ramsgate. I like this developing aspect of Whitehaven and hope that it and the other former industrial settlements along this coast will one day match the tourist trade of the adjacent Lake District.
The town makes much of its history, including numerous information boards. One of these details the attack on the harbour by one of the USA’s foremost naval commanders, John Paul Jones. (not to be confused with the keyboard player from Led Zeppelin). It seems that the pubs of Whitehaven distracted a boarding party, who preferred the alcohol to their task of sabotage.
It had been our intention to return to Maryport by train from here at Whitehaven, but we’ve had the great fortune to make good time and decide to quick-march to Parton station a couple of miles down the line.
The area adjacent to Whitehaven station was once awash with sidings and engine sheds. Several hundred locomotives were built here in the 20th Century, whilst wagons loaded with massive amounts of coal from the local pits, were shunted towards ships taking it to Ireland.
One of the former mineral lines has now been converted into a cycleway carrying Route 72 along the coast, parallel to the current railway line. Massive sandstone cliffs, Triassic, comparable to those at St Bees Head overlook us and the harbour. Some of the stone here was also quarried, with the disused quarries later being used for coal mine buildings and a local iron works.
The final few hundred metres of our walk to Parton accelerate in to a jog, when we realise that we are cutting things a bit tight. Fortunately, rather hot and sweaty, we make it in time to catch one of the many jolly little 2-carriage trains that speed visitors up and down this coast.
Tomorrow we are back on our bikes to cycle up the coast, through Whitehaven’s sister town Workington, before visiting Maryport and on to our caravan site at Allonby.
A Whitehaven Powder Monkey guards the harbour
Whitehaven Harbour and its yachts gleam in the afternoon sun
The high cliffs at Whitehaven were at one-time quarried for building stone
One of the jolly little 2-carriage trains pulls into Parton station