Newbiggin to Alnmouth

May 9, 2024

further north

It's all very quiet when I go down for a breakfast of cereal that comes in those small boxes and coffee.

At about nine, a man in his 50s who I guess has a janitor-type job at the Queen's Head unlocks the rear wooden gates and lets me wheel my bike out of the yard. The street seems quiet, too. It feels cool and the sky is a blanket of grey.

At a T-junction in the middle of the small seaside town I replicate an old photo before pedalling up a gentle incline and finding the right turn that's the start of a bicycle route.

We'll see where I end up today. So far my daily mileage has been minimal.

The cycle path cuts across a green landscape with some low hills rising up nearby. A couple of horses stand on one rounded hilltop on my right, eating a hay bale. As I set up my tripod for a self-timed shot, a man with grey, wild hair tucked under a flat cap stops on his mountain bike and we chat. His name's John.

John asks me some oddball questions, such as what a few random dates have in common. It could be anything. He tells me that it's miners' strikes, informing me in such a way that says I should really know this. He asks me for the names of two Roman slaves, then tells me it's Joseph and Mary. On it goes, with his patronising tone getting worse each time.

We decide to ride together along the otherwise deserted cycle path for a while, until we reach an old windmill at a roundabout, where we wave each other off. It feels good to be alone again.

The path takes me along the coast. The sea is a grey that matches the sky.

One small boat chugs along, close to shore. There's no real sandy beach along this section, not that I can see. It's all rocks. Large dunes block off the view in most other places, with that same course grass holding the mounds of sand in place.

There's a dot on the map named Cresswell and it's 10:15 when I get to the isolated The Drift cafe there and it seems to me that this is coffee time... or close enough.

I order a frothy one and a flapjack and the woman serving tells me all cyclists order this. I tell her I thought of myself as original. She laughs.

The route follows the shore along Druridge Bay, with dunes on my right and green fields opposite, with only minor rises in the road. It's still quiet.

There's a wooden boardwalk that cuts a short path down onto the beach and there are a couple of wood benches adjacent, facing out to sea. I opt to take a break on one, with an elderly man with a cheap mountain bike already sat on the other.

It's a gorgeous, pacifying view, with the sun starting to break through, adding a few degrees to the temperature.

I tell him life's not so bad and he replies that we don't appreciate what we have until its gone. He seems to be referring to a lost loved one - his wife most likely - sitting here at this isolated spot, alone with memories. It's easy to sense the sadness that's hanging over him, but I don't broach the subject.

As we chat, he tells me he used to race his motorbike up and down the vast flat sands when he was young. It strikes me that it'd be okay to pedal my bike along the beach and he says I should just give it a go. He tells me the tide is out, so the rocks that appear further north will be quite easy to negotiate and he watches me carry my bike down the wooden steps onto the sand. We then wave to each other and I know he'll be lost in his memories once again.

The sand is firm and my fat knobblies make riding quite easy. Being closer to the sea and away from the tarmac adds a sense of adventure to the trip. We'll see how long it lasts.

As the man had warned, rocks eventually appear. At first there are just one or two sticking up out the sand, but then there's a low promontory covered in slippery seaweed, with shallow rockpools to step over. I wonder about doubling back, but opt to carry on for a bit more.

As I get almost level with Coquet Island, with its lighthouse clearly visible, I can see a serious hinderance further ahead, with higher rocks sticking right out into the water and decide that this is enough and push my bike over the dunes on a narrow track to get back on the designated cycle route.

It's not long after that I find myself riding into Amble, a seaside resort with a small marina. It feels hot now.

Heading over the grass-covered dunes and back to the cycle route

I pause to take a shot of the town's East Cemetery, with its Victorian spire marking the entrance, before riding up its main street, where I check out a couple of charity shops. I buy a Nike casual shirt, then pop into a cafe across the road. It's lunch time - or close enough - and I have a bowl of homemade soup and another coffee.

The cycle path continues to historic Walkworth, which is close by. It's too soon to think about stopping again somewhere for coffee, so I ride over the town's medieval bridge then make a left instead of following the cycle route signs. I reckon the country back lanes will be more interesting than the path, which hugs the busy main road.

It's now a cafe called 1911 Coffee Co - at 28-30 Queen Street, Amble

Medieval Bridge over the River Coquet, Walkworth

The tranqquil lanes take me through the villages of Low Buston and High Buston. I'd considered going inland slightly to Alnwick, as there are a few hotel options there, but decide to head to the coast and ride towards Alnmouth, dropping down under a railway bridge to meet the A1068.

It's good there's a cycle path as it's a nasty strip of road, with no room to ride safely. Within a few minutes the town is in view, lit in a patch of sunlight, and after turning right and crossing the River Aln, I come to a halt outside The Sun Inn. The rate is what I expect and there's a room going.

The landlady shows me where to park my bike - down in a cellar - and I have enough time before dinner to walk around the one-street place, taking a few snaps of places I have old photos of.

The Sun Inn has a pub quiz tonight, but I make my way back up to my room before it starts after having a pizza and a couple of pints in the crowded bar.

The slightly damaged light fitting in my room

Today's ride: 33 km (20 miles)
Total: 309 km (192 miles)

Rate this entry's writing	Heart	5
Comment on this entry	Comment	0