Seahouses to Berwick

May 11, 2024

as far north as I go

It's nice to see my bike's still locked to the metal rack when I walk out of the building and over the car park to the main one to get my buffet breakfast.

The sun's out again and I stroll slowly around the quiet harbour, killing a bit of time until one of the boat trip kiosks opens up. It may be possible to put my bike on a boat up the coast to Holy Island - the idea of cycling there before the tide cuts off its long causeway at about four this afternoon is daunting.

When one kiosk opens up, the woman there tells me there are no fishing or sightseeing trips to Holy Island today, or even tomorrow, because the tide is too low. Shame, but it's what I expected after looking at the firm's schedule.

Lambrettas are being started up and their engines make a buzzing sound around the back of the hotel as I pedal off to find Cycle Route 1 signs.

No trips to Holy Island today - the tide is too low

My hotel in the background - The Bamburgh Castle Inn

Cycle Route 1 signs point me in the right direction.

My legs are still not working very well. There's no way I'm going to get to Holy Island to do it justice and the chance of finding a room there is pretty small... I reckon they get booked up well in advance.

The sight of Bamburgh Castle comes as a surprise. It isn't on my itinerary, so the Cycle Route signs are off a bit and have taken me on a slight detour.

The tall and isolated former windmill known as Spindlestone Ducket is a building I do remember from my research, but after this I must take a different route than the one planned, as I enter Belford from the south, not the east, riding up its High Street to come to a halt at The Blue Bell Inn. Another one.

I'd considered this place as an overnight stop, but couldn't book a room with my phone being out of data. It seems to be working OK now, but it's too early in the day to look for a room, so I start going up a hill leading roughly north out of the village. I end up walking. My energy is low and the heat is getting to me.

There's a decent downhill to where I need to make a left as I make my way to a dot on the map named Fenwick. It's getting on for one when I spot a sign for a coffee shop in the tiny village and fueling up seems like a good idea. I have a bowl of soup. When it comes to getting some water, the woman who owns the place fills up my stainless bottle and I drink most of that sat outside before setting off. It's a hot one today.

Another break... at The Guru Coffee Shop in Fenwick

I cross over the manic A1 soon after Fenwick and get to the road heading east out to Holy Island. There's enough time to ride there, but without a hotel booked it would be risky, as there are no other places to stay until Berwick and it'd be something like a 15km ride over the causeway and back. The tide will cut it off at 3:45 today. Maybe another time.

There's a cycle path sign just before the causeway at a stone barn that now does food and I get on it to find it's a rough track. There are no other cyclists around, or hikers. It's just me today.

There's a lot of sky and the wind is behind me, thankfully. There's not much to stop it here.

The path becomes just a walking trail and if it had rained recently, it'd be a bit of a mess. A road bike would have problems, but I'm OK with these fat knobblies.

The sea is over to my right, but it's mostly out of sight, behind grassy dunes.

Two young people whiz by on bikes as I get close to a village named Cheswick. They make cycling look easy and when they pause just ahead I ask if they have motors and the woman says they do. I thought so.

The lane through Cheswick drops and crosses the rail lines and takes me back to the coast. There are familiar blue Cycle Route 1 signs still, but I don't see any others on cyclists until a while later. Just the one. He's about 30 years old and as we both must stop here and there, we pass each other a couple of times and I learn he's French/American and on his way to Scotland.

It's getting on for four when I get to a high point and see Berwick in the distance. The grassy trail undulates a lot, with tremendous views of the coast and the sea. The weather is great and I wonder what it'd be like in the cool months of the year, when rain must lash this exposed area. I count myself lucky.

The French/American and I bump into each other again on the bridge crossing the Tweed. He's just stocked up on food from a supermarket and plans to ride over the border into Scotland where it's legal to camp wild. I tell him the rates for rooms I've stayed in seem high and it's no different tonight. With The Kings Arms being full, I end up down the street at The Queens Head, where it costs me £115 for the night.

My bike gets locked to some wooden stairs around the back yard and I go for a short stroll in teh centre. The light is nice as the sun is getting low and I take a few snaps.

I have an Indian for dinner, then pop back to The Queens for a beer, but their selection is minimal and the young woman behind the bar recommends a small pub just a block away called The Curfew. That's where I end up, feeling pretty spent. My legs ache and something has to be done about these fat knobbly tyres.

L. S. Lowry painted a few scenes of Berwick

I have a couple of pints in The Curfew Micropub

Today's ride: 46 km (29 miles)
Total: 391 km (243 miles)

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