Introduction


When we started walking the coast of England we had no intention that this would become a major lifetime project. Having to make a last-minute arrangement for our summer holiday in 1987, we said "Let's go to the nearest piece of coast and see how far we can walk along it." It turned out well and we started adding further stretches of coast, initially once every two years, but soon annually, or even twice a year.

We had always enjoyed the coast - there is something refreshingly "edgy" about having the sea always at our side, and one of us was into marine molluscs. We also enjoyed long-distance walking and had long been involved in general natural history recording. This project enabled us to combine all three interests.

You soon discover when embarking on a project like this that you need a few rules, which evolve from the first experiences. Our main rule was that we should walk as close to the coast as possible, which meant beach-walking whenever we could (unlike the official coast paths that largely remain above shore, recognising that at high tides the beach may be inaccessible). The route should also be capable of being a continuous walk, so that when we came to an unfordable river we walked inland along its banks to the first place at which we could cross, whether a bridge or a ferry.

We only carried light packs, so that at the end of each day's walk we had the problem of getting back to our car where we started. Initially we walked back, but soon realised we would be walking the coast twice this way! We used public transport whenever this was available - buses or trains, sometimes adjusting our start and finish points to make this easier. Failing this - and it was often not possible - we would phone for a taxi (an increasingly costly option over the years). Having our car with us gave us more freedom as to where we could stay at night - and after a day walking and only light food we were usually ready for being spoiled by a good meal and a comfortable bed! Even so, we stayed on the coast itself whenever there was a decent option.

Each walk was made for enjoyment, it was not a route-march to see how quickly we could get it finished. We therefore took it gently at times when passing through pleasant scenery or where there were many plants or creatures to record.

In terms of biological recording, we systematically noted every bird, butterfly, creature or sea-shell that we came across, sometimes spending time searching for the shells. We could not record every plant in the same way - there are too many common ones - so we were more selective, noting all coastal plants and any others that were not run-of-the-mill.

In our daily posts, edited from our original diaries, we include a star-rating from no star to **** according to our subjective estimate as to how special that day was from the point of view of natural history. This score (and our daily records) will, however, have been affected by the weather - it is difficult to appreciate the environment fully, for instance, in torrential rain, and there are many more butterflies and other insects to be seen in warm sunshine!

A summary of all our natural history records on the walk can be found using this link: https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B1LLGD55lKRHYXd1SGU1QndrcUU/edit?usp=sharing





Tuesday, 28 January 2014

Cumbria: Etterby to Gretna 27/6/2005


 

Banded demoiselle
 
Flowering rush
 
Cross-bedded sandstone, Rockcliffe
 
Metal Bridge
 
We took a taxi to Etterby, a district of Carlisle, on the north bank of the River Eden, close to where we discovered a bridge over the river yesterday.  The bridge was left by a disused railway line.  Our route today was mostly the counterpart to yesterday, back along the north bank of the Eden.  We saw all of yesterday’s species, but the continuing sun had now brought out more butterflies.  There were both banded and beautiful demoiselles and we again saw a kingfisher and goosanders.  We also saw flowering rush in streams near the backwater close to Bankend, where a section of the river cut off a substantial island, and spiny rest-harrow just west of Rockcliffe, once we had got away from the earlier banks dominated by Indian balsam.  The path on this side was generally easier, in some places being mown for fishermen.  We did, however, have to pass over the top of the cliff we were facing when we had lunch yesterday, and this involved walking between high wheat and equally tall wild plants, raising masses of cocksfoot pollen and flies, and soaking our trousers and boots with dew.  At Rockcliffe we had to climb above cliffs again, going up to the front street of the village.  Here we could get a close look at some of the sandstone exposed in the cliff, including signs of cross-bedding, and the overlaying red clays with boulders, presumably glacial till as used in Burgh to build houses. 
        Shortly after Rockcliffe we had to take our leave of Eden and cut north, inland of the large Rockcliffe Marsh, using small tracks and roads.  Walking was easy until we got to Halltown Farm, where we were supposed to follow a cross-country path, initially signed as the Cumbrian Coastal Way.  This was, however, totally unmaintained, blocked in places, and hardly signed.    For a kilometre we had to force our way through thick vegetation, often with no clue as to where the path should go, and were continually plagued by horse-flies.  We eventually reached a large bridge over the main railway between Glasgow and Carlisle.  On top of this we found respite from horse-flies and could have our lunch, overlooking the way ahead – the busy A74, linking two motorway stretches, and the River Esk, which the railway line crossed by means of what was poetically called “Metal Bridge”.  Here we encountered the dreary Metal Bridge Inn which advertised “Beer but no food”.  (See extract from that evening's Carlisle newspaper below.)  We declined the invitation to drink because the footpath through its land was again totally obstructed and we had to climb gates and fences to get through despite clear Coastal Way signs.  There was a path up to a cycle- and walk-way over the Metal Bridge, after which we found ourselves left to manage as best we could alongside fast continuous heavy traffic on a rough verge with a narrow cycle lane beside us.  Eventually even that lane disappeared – do cyclists just vanish into thin air at this point?  We were desperate having to walk in such dangerous conditions when a couple of young Scottish lads stopped their car to offer a lift and we considered it would be very impolite to refuse, especially as we had only a mile to go to the Cumbrian border with Scotland, so we were not really violating our principle of walking all the way too much.  We therefore had a quick end to our journey in a car with loud pulsating sound-system, but happy to meet such friendly and helpful people.  They dropped us in Gretna, just the other side of the border, which runs along the River Sark.  We had a celebratory drink at the Crossways pub before taking the half mile saunter to the railway station.  The train from Glasgow came in simultaneously and we were back in the centre of Carlisle in ten minutes!


 
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