Silloth is a small and welcoming place. It is perched on the north west tip of the Solway Firth and I was apparently staying in the oldest building in the town; a photo of the short terrace in splendid isolation with nothing around was in the hallway. A big green sloped down to the sea, once planned to be the grass in front of a Bath Royal Crescent style development in a growing town before the money ran out. A large replica of a Lockheed Hudson on a pole at the edge of the green is a reminder of the impact of the Second World War here; on the way here I had passed a number of old hangers now turned to farming. The arrival of trains had made it a main holiday destination until overseas holidays became a thing although it is apparently still very busy in the summer. All this I learned last night from my host Graheme - bedecked in smoking jacket behind his tiny corner bar - as I enjoyed his wine and, later, excellent food.
Graheme also answered a question that had been in my mind during the cycle route: why, when Hadrian's Wall stopped at Bowness on Firth did my route extend to Ravenglass another 60 miles south along the west coast of northern Britain? The answer was obvious once you knew: as part of the defensive structure the west coast was also heavily protected by forts since the sea was an easy route around the wall; a series of forts rather than a wall were all that was required given the protection that the coast itself offered. Sadly, today coastal erosion has swept away almost all evidence of that aspect of the Roman defences. All this was flitting through my mind as I cycled the cobbled street along the sea front to join the coast road and my route south.
My first thirteen miles swept by on smooth tarmac along the coast, ignoring the occasional sign for my route aimed at temporarily looping me off a busy road that was not at all busy. For mile after mile long muddy shores swept out to a flat sea to my right until Workington appeared on the horizon. It was a far cry from Silloth with its grey, bulky and industrial silhouette. Luckily I managed to avoid the outskirts on the badly signed but tree lined cycle paths that had clearly once been train tracks.
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| West Coast |
I passed through the centre, busy but anonymous and with a definite sense of having seen better days, and was then once again on old rail track heading out; Beeching's legacy has had a positive aspect for cyclists at least. My initial aim today was Whitehaven where I would spend the night, eight miles further on and the start of my cycle route back across the country tomorrow. Ideally today I would press on a further twenty miles to Ravensglass and the end of the Hadrian’s Cycleway. However, I was not really improved from yesterday despite my night of rest so I would take stock at Whitehaven, especially as I would have to now cycle back there from Ravenglass as today the coastline trains had been replaced by buses.
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| Towards Whitehaven |
Whitehaven seemed slow in coming; too many poorly signed junctions and too much stopping for navigation checks. But I reached it not long after midday and in a far more positive state of mind than yesterday despite still feeling rough: yesterday everything had seemed too difficult and a mental and physical effort whereas today things seemed at least possible despite the hangover of a chesty cough. So I elected to carry on.
Country roads, more old rail line and a cycle lane alongside main road took me to a small lane back towards the coast and the Sellafield nuclear power station, an outline of towers and domes in the distance. A pleasant cycle on good gorse-lined path took me along the sea edge, mud and marshland with grazing cattle stretching to a distant sea. The power station got ever closer as a I glimpsed it through the gorse until I was cycling the long route around its perimeter.
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| Sellafield Village Church |
I passed the tiny Sellafield rail station and noticed signs warning of coastal erosion and the need for care on the cycle path. A few hundred yards later I hit the reality. The sign was obviously placed a while and many tides back. I cycled a scrappy mud track between the Sellafield outer fence on my left and the coastal train line and then the sea to my right. From here I was meant to cross by a small iron rail bridge ahead, over a stream feeding the sea, then double under the bridge along a path by the river bank to join a coastal path the other side of the tracks. But no path under the bridge existed, just a steep and muddy bank. I cycled further to see if I had misinterpreted the route but found myself on a mud path trapped between Seallafield and the rail tracks which, after two hundred yards, was blocked by a stile that led onto a footpath across a golf course. It was definitely not the way.
I had read something on the SUSTRANS website about the section south of Sellafield being suspended due to coastal erosion and it seems that on this occasion it was more than undue caution. I consoled myself that I had gone as far as was possible and that I was only seven miles from Ravenglass so had completed the majority of the cycleway. I retraced my route to Whitehaven and by four in the afternoon I was in my room, drinking more lemsip to keep my continuing symptoms at bay and preparing for a hearty dinner and an early night in anticipation of feeling more human in the morning.
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| Start of Coast to Coast |
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