Tag: Ride

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Riding Trail Riding

On the Trail of St Cuthbert

Distance : 27.54 Miles / 44.32 Kms

Elevation : 1580 ft / 482 m

Terrain : Trail = 15.34 Miles / 24.69 Kms ; Tarmac = 12.2 Miles / 19.63 Kms

Bike : MTB

Difficulty : Moderate

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/course/71338715

On the Trail of St Cuthbert GPXDownload
On the Trail of St Cuthbert FITDownload

“St Cuthbert’s Cave’s Closed!” That was the post title I had wanted, but it would have been too cryptic.  I made this declaration to an approaching pilgrim pair as we passed each other at a gate, only 100 metres from Northumberland’s mini Mecca, and you should have seen the look on their faces.  I could only hold a straight face for a few seconds before telling them I was joking, but we all had a chuckle before chatting briefly and then wishing them well on their travels.  I had been tempted to continue with “Yeah, Northumberland County Council had to brick it up as it was considered an eyesore…” but I just couldn’t hold it.  It isn’t an eyesore, of course, but a pretty spot with a significant historic tale to tell…more on that later.  This godly grotto was on our own devout journey in honour of the god of dust and dirt, as we sought another offering from the scenic trails of North Northumberland.

It was the trusty trio of Gavin, Andy and I, who set off from a convenient little layby just outside of the tiny village of Doddington in Northumberland.  Many people wouldn’t have heard of the village had it not been for the Doddington Dairy that churns out (pun definitely intended) delicious flavours of ice cream at North Doddington Farm.  They now produce a fantastic range of local cheese too, and if you are ever in the market town of Wooler, a couple of miles down the road, then you must try the milkshakes from the Doddington Milk Bar…they are a real treat!  Anyway, before I start sounding like I’m on commission I’ll move onto the ride.

We were under blue skies as we left the car, but the threat of darker clouds from the West had us discussing Britain’s favourite topic.  A couple on e-bikes warned us about a jungle of nettles up ahead on the narrow tarmac bridleway, and although it is that time of year when the vegetation is rampant and spilling across the trails, it was actually an avenue of cow parsley and goose grass which lay in wait.  Certainly not as annoying as our stinging nemesis.  

Looking across into the wetland to my right I caught a glimpse of a large dark shadow moving quickly through the reeds and rushes.  Gavin and Andy had missed it.  Could it have been a hare!? I’ve seen plenty of hares, but this looked to be the size of a large dog…I best get Sherlock onto the case of “The Wild Dog of Doddington”…which admittedly doesn’t quite have the same ring to it as “The Hound of the Baskervilles”.  Anyway, it left as quickly as it arrived and I saw nothing more of it, and we were soon beyond the scene and heading for our first climb of the day.  A young female farmer on a quad wished us  “Good Morning” as she passed…obligatory balancing border collie riding pillion as they bumped along the rough track.

The climb from Doddington was long and steady…tarmac at first before giving way to a rocky track.  A couple of level sections and even a short descent gave our legs a brief rest, as we left the Milfield Plain for the higher ground of Doddington Moor.  Beyond, the fields rolled out East for a short distance before the landscape climbed the Kyloe Hills…hiding the North Sea from view.  

We drew up alongside poppy fields on the Devil’s Causeway roman road, admiring the flowering white blooms spreading across the green like a dusting of snow.  We didn’t quite understand why they were grown here in the UK, let alone Northumberland.  It appears that a world-wide shortage of morphine since 2005 has prompted the commercial growth of opium poppies by British farmers.  The seed pods are full of a milky latex which dries to an amber-coloured resin, rich in codeine, morphine and other substances which are sought by medicine producers.  Pharmaceutical company, Macfarlan Smith, holds the sole licence for poppy production in the UK.  They inform the Home Office about the location and size of UK crops, and the Home Office, in turn, writes to the various farmers to confirm the arrangement and invites them to let the local constabulary know what they are doing.  The farmer only needs to prepare the land, drill the seeds and watch them grow.  Once grown, the poppies are harvested and processed by Macfarlan Smith.  It is an arrangement that works well for all parties it seems.  I trust you understand I only have a passing and merely educational interest in this field!

Quiet country lanes guided us away from the opiate plantation and on towards the hamlet of Holburn, where we picked up a pleasant grassy bridleway, ascending onto Holburn Moss Nature Reserve.  The reserve is an internationally recognised wetland with close links to Lindisfarne National Nature Reserve, as wildfowl regularly move between the two areas.  The link is reinforced further by alleged stories of monks from Lindisfarne Priory travelling to Holburn Moss to harvest peat for fuel.  This may well account for the square hollows across the site.  Pink-footed goose, wigeon and grey plover can be seen here.  A nice variety of grass track, forest fire road and woodland singletrack led us around the edge of the reserve.  

On leaving the woodland we were presented with the familiar beauty of the Northumberland coastline.  Lindisfarne Castle perched at the end of its sliver of island, looking East over the North Sea for Viking invaders who had long since stormed and pillaged this land, or in many cases, had simply integrated peacefully into our communities. 

Our gravel track divided the pastureland into two and with it, the fortunes of two mighty bulls.  To our left, a huge chunk of bovine muscle stood alone, looking over the fence to the field on the opposite side, blasting verbal protests at his rival d’amour.  Without going into too much detail, the hefty heifer on our right was accompanied by a field of cows, and he was busy doing what he had been bought to do, ignoring the objections and disapproval from over yonder.  We trundled furtively across the stage (and what a scenic backdrop for a bit of al fresco hijinx!) and exited in time to warn an oncoming troup of elderly female ramblers about their imminent lesson in animal husbandry in UK farming.  

A right turn took us across fields of long grass, following St Cuthberts Way up onto Greensheen Hill.  The views just got better, with the glistening coastline to the East mirrored in beauty by rolling fields of ripe golden wheat stretching out to the Cheviots in the West.  Strips and patches of dark woodland lay scattered across the landscape, their green hues deepened by a thickening cloud cover.  

To the North the sky had developed a threatening presence, like looking up from deep beneath the heavy breaking waves of an ocean storm.  Showers were already soaking the earth only a few miles away, so it was time to head for shelter.  Luckily, we had one in mind and a fast singletrack descent through heather and fern took us there.

The first drops of rain reached us just as we rode up to St Cuthbert’s Cave.  We certainly weren’t alone as we shared the ample space beneath the sandstone outcrop with quietly conversing couples and a group of walkers in discussion over lunch.  I examined the multifarious graffiti from days of yore, wondering who must have been first to leave their mark.  Maybe it was the ancient monks of Lindisfarne, as it is rumoured to be they who brought St Cuthbert’s body here for safekeeping in AD875, in order to evade the Danes ravaging their Holy Island.  

St Cuthbert was a famous monk of the 7th century and the patron saint of Northumbria.  He ran the Lindisfarne Monastery and it is said that he developed the gift of spiritual healing.  At the age of 40 he decided to become a hermit to fight the spiritual forces of evil in a life of solitude.   Some believe that he spent a short period of solitude at St Cuthbert’s Cave, before moving to a more permanent location on the Inner Farne Island.  After his death in AD687 he was laid to rest on Lindisfarne, however, his remains were  later moved to avoid the clutches of the Vikings.  Lindisfarne monastery and the island were abandoned in AD875, after years of threat from their invaders.  The body of St Cuthbert, along with surviving relics and treasures, were transported to various sites over the next 200 years.  Finally, St Cuthbert’s body was laid to rest within the newly built Norman cathedral at Durham in 1104.  The grave is marked by a plain gravestone with the inscription “Cuthbertus”, and it is still the site of many pilgrimages today.

It wasn’t long before the rain passed…just enough time to eat an energy bar and snoop around a little, before we got back in the saddle.  We departed to allow others to take our sheltered spot.  I had hoped to leave in a quiet and gracious manner, but my brakes squealed a drawn out parting wail as I descended across the wet grass.  I caught up with Gavin and Andy at a gate, when our aforementioned friends approached, en route to Saint Cuddy’s campsite cavern.  I still laugh now when I think about their expressions.  I have always been the one to laugh loudest at my own jokes though!

We were now riding dirt tracks along the fringes of the golden wheat fields that we had viewed from higher ground. 

We simply can no longer pass a log stack without stopping to take a photo…it has become a “thing” I guess. 

I admired the old farm buildings at Dick’s Oldwalls (wow, what a great name!).  I think the buildings deserve better than to be used as a sheep shelter, but what do I know… I know it is a tranquil little spot at least.

A few miles further on down gravel road and woodland trail and we were coming into the ancient village of Belford.  This old coaching town sits on the old Great North Road…a road which is now usually found sitting quietly alongside its noisy and beefier successor, the A1. 

A quick stop at the Co-Op for scran resulted in the discovery of a new gastronomic sensation…. for me anyway.  A chicken karahi naan wrap…it tasted so good.  I don’t know who made it and from what but it hit the spot!

We left the village on the South Road, knowing that we would imminently be turning West and facing a long uphill struggle onto Belford Moor.  I enjoyed the climb, however, as it was never too steep and with a steady rhythm I turned my way to the top. 

The traverse of the moor required moments of patience and hazard management.  Patience to study the best route across an area of bog, and then to plough on across it in the hope that man and bike would not become stranded without hope.  Hazard management also involved the assessment and then circumnavigation of bovine threats, actual or merely perceived…it wasn’t left to chance.

Joining tarmac towards the summit of Lyham Hill, I knew we would soon be in for a long downhill towards home.  I wasn’t wrong, as the road behind the crags of Bowden Doors took us down Dancing Green Hill on an asphalt journey to the pretty Hetton Hall.   The same lane led us all the way back to the Devil’s Causeway and from here we retraced our steps to the car.  The long energy sapping ascent from Doddington on the edge of the Milfield Plain became a long energy restoring descent.  

I only wish we had had the time to call in at the Milk Bar in Wooler on the way home, but it was time I didn’t have.  I was required post-haste to report for family duty.  That reminds me, I was going to enquire about the availability of a small hermitage on the Inner Farne Island… 

Start / Finish : Layby @ Doddington Bridge, 1 mile South of Doddington on B6525

Coming Soon : Loughrigg – A Tour of the Island Fell

Categories
Riding Trail Riding

Cheviot Hills MTB Loop

Distance : 13.67 Miles / 22 Kms

Bike Type : MTB

Difficulty : Challenging

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/course/57820466

Cheviot Hills MTB Loop GPXDownload
Cheviot Hills MTB Loop FITDownload

The wind had settled down since the previous day and rolling out at 10am, we were set to beat the rain that was expected to arrive by 3pm.  Gavin, Andy and I had found a grassy parking area in the centre of the tiny Northumbrian village of Alwinton.  Meaning settlement next to the River Alwin, the village comprises a pretty collection of houses, a farm and a pub, all sitting amongst the beautiful rolling hills and tranquil waters of Upper Coquetdale.

Although it was certainly fresh, we were bathed with bright sunshine as we set off along the lane, heading upvalley, deeper into the Cheviot Hills.  As soon as we had left the village the road began to rise on a long steady climb, which would not have been too challenging, had it not been for the brutal North-Westerly headwind.  I was already feeling spent and anxious about the miles ahead by the time we reached a gate on our right, leading onto a rising bridleway towards Shillmoor. 

As I paused at the gate and turned to await my amigos, I was rewarded with a great perspective of Alwinton and its situation within the broadening valley.  Green fields and pockets of woodland surrounded the village on all sides and the River Coquet snaked its way across the landscape and out of sight, on its long journey to the sea at Amble.

The bridleway traversed across the steep grassland slopes of our first hill, climbing steadily as it went.  Through one gate, then another, as it climbed onto the broad plateau on a track called Pass Peth.  As I rested at a marker post I noticed that we had already accomplished 500 feet of climbing within a mile and a half…no wonder I had felt a little out of breath! I relayed this to Andy and he too was relieved to have a reason for his fatigue.

I had ridden this route before, and I knew what came next, though last time it had caused me a lot more pain than it would today as I was travelling in the opposite direction.  Reaching the edge of this upland pasture, the path disappeared ahead.  Like kids at the top of a waterslide, we hesitated for a moment, before taking the plunge into a sharp and steep descent over wet grass, back to the valley floor.  Too heavy on the brakes and an uncontrollable slide could make for an ungracious and painful dismount.  We regrouped at the gate below, smiling and intact.

After ¾ mile of path across the foot of a hill, commonly referred to as The Knocks, we arrived at Shillmoor, a hamlet at the confluence of the Usway Burn and the River Coquet.  This pretty spot is popular for walkers to park and head out into the hills.

Climbing round behind the farm the route followed a gravelled road up the Usway Burn to Batailshiel Haugh.  The road crosses the Usway Burn a couple of times on the way, via fantastic metal girder bridges with planked decks.  Just beyond the first bridge we found a used smoke grenade canister…The army conduct exercises in these hills and valleys, and, of course, the Ministry of Defence Otterburn Ranges lie within a mile or two to the South and South-West.  Ps. Remember not to touch any army ordnance…an explosion which injures or kills you is enough of a deterrent I would have thought!

The path continues beyond Batailshiel Haugh, following the burn for another mile or so until it squeezes between water and woodland.  The burn rushes in its channel cut into the rocks, frothing and gurgling into pools, lifting and depositing boughs, branches and leaf litter as it goes.  

Before long we arrived at the ride’s dining location.  Fairhaugh House is an 18th century farmhouse and probably the most remote holiday home in the UK.  This solitary property sleeps 8 and the website shows a high quality finish inside, although the shutters were closed and no one was at home  when we passed.  We rested in a leeward and sunlit corner of the building and investigated an old piece of farm machinery sitting in the shade of an oak tree.  I ate my sole provision…a surprisingly good 27p flapjack from Home Bargains!

After “lunch” we pressed on.  Within a short distance upstream of the house, a wooden bridge passed over the burn in a pretty little setting.   We crossed and faced 150 metres of stiff climbing to bring us up to a fantastic viewpoint, and the top of a nice descent on a track of gravel and grass.

The skies had been looking a little ominous for the last few minutes and, sure enough, as we approached a gate at the base of the hill, the heavens opened with hail and snow driven on by an icy wind.  Still, it’s better than rain, and we had both the equipment and the inclines to keep us warm.

Now doubling back on the opposite bank of the Usway Burn, the stiffest test yet awaited us.  This long climb on a grass path tested me to the limit. Two ramps awaited.  I crept up the first, in control of bike and breathing, but the second put me deep into the red, weaving and wheelying up a crazy gradient for what seemed like an age, before it levelled off gradually.  I think I averaged 4mph up there but I made it without a stop.  I am a man of simple pleasures it seems.

We reconvened at a gate, spending time to recover as the inclement weather abated and we enjoyed some relief from the wind in the shelter of pine trees.   

We were soon onto forest road and rolling along at a pace that we could only have dreamt of a few miles back.  We noted that we had taken two and three-quarter hours to cover 8 miles.  Admittedly, this included many breaks to admire the scenery, recover and chatter, and much of these miles had been climbing into a headwind.

We looked forward to an easier ride from here back to the car.  And, indeed, that turned out to be the case.  We sailed along gently undulating forest track for two miles, tackling only one cheeky climb up to a log stack as the path joined Clennel Street.  With 360 degree views, we could see rain showers sweeping over distant hills and clouds casting great shadows on a landscape layered in shades of greens, browns and reds.

As we began our descent on Clennel Street we looked back to beautiful views of Cheviot, blanketed in snow.  Clennel Street is an ancient trading route, dating back to the iron and bronze age.  Although the name Clennel Street is more recent and relates to a major local family, its early name is magnam viam de Ernespeth, derived from the Old English for Eagles Path.  

We sailed down the wide grass track, gliding over the rocks peeking out from beneath their damp green blanket.  Winding down the hillside we were still mindful to feather the brakes to hold control on slippery corners.  A couple of gates proved only a temporary hiatus on the flight into Alwinton.

A rocky lane guided us past a farm and into the village, alighting by the parked cars.  The Rose and Thistle beckoned for a pint and a sandwich. For the first time since covid 19 lockdown we sat in a beer garden and spoke of our adventure.  We had, on the whole, beaten the weather, but heavy clouds were starting to come in around us as we made our weary way back to the car.

The Cheviots are a mountain bikers playground.  The ascents may be steep and challenging, but the trails are rolling and the descents are fast and flowing.  Coupling the trails with amazing views of awesome scenery and you have a winning ride, 100%.

Start / Finish: Alwinton, Northumberland, NE65 7BQ

Categories
Riding Trail Riding

Tyneside to Wearside Trail Ride

Distance : 27.81 Miles / 44.76 Kms

Bike Type : Gravel / CX

Difficulty : Moderate

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/course/50721317

Jarrow – South Shields – Whitburn – West Boldon – Boldon Coilliery – Jarrow GPXDownload
Jarrow – South Shields – Whitburn – West Boldon – Boldon Colliery – Jarrow FITDownload

If you have never done it, you need to ride through the Tyne Pedestrian Tunnel.  It feels like a step back in time with its wooden escalators and porcelain tiles, which I guess is to be expected as it was built in the late 1940’s.

Although it was built 40 years earlier, the escalator entrance on the North side has surely been designed as the head of an early computer game monster.  Windows represent both the eyes of the beast and your last ever glimpse of daylight before you are swallowed whole.  A blue sign outside even looks like a pupil and strip lights above the eyes are surely luminous eyebrows.    But it’s the gaping dark mouth that you will be focused on as you approach, with its long jagged tongue dragging you over a precipitous edge of no return and down into its belly. 

Once you are beyond the threshold and on your way below things quickly brighten up.  A fluorescent tractor beam seems to pull you down an endless flight of stairs.  When at the top the experience can feel a little vertiginous, but before long you are near the bottom and in for a treat on two wheels.

Back in the saddle and entering the cyclists tunnel, you really feel and hear the rush of air as you speed down the ramp and across the paved floor.  A seemingly endless caterpillar of light above you guides you on through this glossy chute.   And then, in less than a minute you’re sailing up the gentle ramp towards the opposite end with a smile on your face, having forgotten about the weight of thousands of tonnes of water above you.  A further two minutes and I was emerging from the lift, back into the glorious sunshine and blue skies that we have been experiencing lately.

Many folk, however, will not need to make use of the pedestrian tunnel to begin this ride, so I have started the route from the car park next to the tunnel’s South entrance.  Both living in Northumberland, Gavin and I parked on the North side of the tunnel and rode through to the start point.  We paused to admire a passing dredger on its way up the Tyne, before we set off East, headed for the sandy shores of South Shields.

Within a quarter of a mile we were onto a bridleway which took us around the back of Jarrow Hall, formerly Bede’s World.  This is the site of the world’s only Anglo-Saxon farm and village, as well as the Bede Museum, celebrating the Vunerable Bede, father of history.  It is my humble opinion that, if Bede had had a bike and not a book, he’d have been riding and not writing!  Gavin tells me that the place is a good visit, especially for kids.

Just around the corner we passed a fantastic medieval bridge over the River Don, overlooked by the ruins of St Paul’s Monastery, one of Europe’s most influential centres of learning and culture in the 7th century.

Now onto main road for a short distance, and around the corner the difference in the architecture couldn’t have been more stark, as we returned to the heavy industry for what the area is now known.  I find heavy industry fascinating and certainly no less interesting than the old stuff, so I was very happy to pass the Port of Tyne entrance and glimpse the huge cranes and storage silos behind the gates.

We rumbled down the cobbles of Mill Dam with its traditional pubs, on our way towards the South Shields Customs House.  The Customs House was built in 1864, just before South Shields was declared an independent customs post in 1865.  It is now a theatre and arts centre with a pleasant waterside setting.

Back on the riverside, we made our way past the Shields ferry landing in time to see her arrive from one of her regular sailings.  A DFDS ferry and a P&O Cruise ship provided a great contrast for the tiny size of the Shields ferry. 

Onward we passed waterside apartments and businesses until we reached the mouth of the river at Little Haven Beach.  On making our way to the promenade I was slightly freaked out by 22 crinkly and frankly quite scary metal “weebles” (remember those!) leaning and gesturing into thin air.  I pedalled on with haste.  

The beach is pretty here and in the sunshine it was bliss just to cruise along. Watch out for sand across the path, however, as it takes a bit of control to handler the deeper drifts.

Passing the Gallipoli Memorial, commemorating the campaign of 1915, we headed out onto South Shields pier with its cobbles and old rails from the Titan crane that used to service the ships that would dock within the harbour. The crane may be gone, along with the shipping, but people are here aplenty, to take in the sea air and to fish, for cod, flounder, dab and more.

After a brief loop of the lighthouse we headed for shore and onto our route South past a small shoal of surfers catching some decent swell.  

We stopped to take a quick look at the Victorian “Disappearing Gun” at Trow Point.  It was “disappearing” in the sense that the mounting platform could be raised and lowered in the concrete gun pit.  The gun is not the original, having been replaced on its centenary in 1987, and it was never used in action, which is probably a good job because ultimately it was unsuccessful.  It looks good though.

Next stop down the path on this fantastic coastline was Marsden Rock, a 100 foot sea stack of periclase and limestone. Marsden Grotto, a hotel, bar and restaurant with a long history of smuggling and ghost stories, is located in a large man made cave behind the stack.  130 steps take you down to the grotto, or you can take the lift of course.

From grotto to lighthouse, we span along on dry trails, bewitched by the glisten of sun on sea.  Souter lighthouse is impressive and the archetypal lighthouse in my book.  Bright white with a red band and black light casing, it just looks the part and I’m sure it would have some stories to tell.

Gradually we made our way South along the cliff tops to pretty Whitburn, where we turned inland.  Folks were sat outside cafes enjoying the sunshine with a mouthful of tea and cake…not for us though, we had trails to ride.

We skirted to the North of Sunderland, following the Cut Throat Dene …gotta love that name, although we didn’t see any pirates or deadly bandits.

For the next 5 miles we followed trails alongside fields on the urban fringes, past Sunderland Football Club’s “Academy of Light” and the residential Witherwack (I just had to include that name too).  Horses grazed on open land on the edges of housing estates, and a swan sat in its nest on a small nature reserve.  The trails were good, often gravelly but easy to roll along.

On the skyline, the iconic Penshaw monument stands overlooking the city of Sunderland, with wind turbines waving back from below. Wearside’s own greek-style temple was built in 1844 in honour of the 1st Earl of Durham, John George Lampton.  

Reaching the A19, we turned North and followed the tree-lined river Don on flowing metalled paths through the suburban housing of West Boldon.  Crossing New Road, bridleway took us through an attractive nature reserve, with more nice compact trails, on our way towards Boldon Colliery.

I knew our route was going to be very urban from here to the finish, but a lot of good trail can be found in such areas, and we weren’t disappointed.  Crossing the A19, we made our way across to Calfclose Burn and followed it, via Fellgate Metro station, to where it met the River Don at Monkton.  

A collapsing footbridge required a minor reroute.  A young woman with a pram pointed us in the right direction, but not before pointing out that a hill lay in our path. As it happens, the hill was a mere bump and nothing more…did we really look that old and feeble!? On second thoughts, I don’t think this beard is flattering me!

Pushing on, and trying to forget the woman’s well-meaning insult, we sailed along the paths running down the dene in which the River Don flows.  Suddenly we were back at the toll gates for the Tyne Tunnel on the A19.  

We ducked below underpasses and rounded a pumphouse, both coated wall to wall with grafitti.  From here it was simply a case of climbing up onto the land above the Tyne Tunnel and following the direct path through parkland between the housing estates, back to the car park from whence we started.

Another great ride, showing the varying faces of this land between the Rivers Tyne and Wear.  I need to venture South of the Tyne more often. 

Start/Finish – Tyne Pedestrian Tunnel Hub (South) Car Park, Jarrow, NE32 3DX

Categories
Riding Trail Riding

Bedlington and the Coast Trail Ride

Distance : 25.42 Miles / 40.9 Kms

Bike : Gravel / CX (MTB poss.)

Difficulty : Moderate

https://connect.garmin.com/modern/course/55365572

Bedlington – Seaton Sluice – Holywell – Seghill – East Cramlington – Bedlington GPXDownload
Bedlington – Blyth – Seaton Sluice – Holywell – Seghill – East Cramlington – Bedlington FITDownload

Describing the weather as bright and sunny is a happily recurring theme at the moment.  Most mornings start with a frost and, although a chill lingers in the shade during the day, the riding conditions couldn’t be better.  The trails are firm and fast-flowing…long may it last. 

I set off on the cyclo-cross bike from Bedlington’s Attlee Park car park with my two compadres, Gavin and Andy, discussing the disdain that our better halves hold for our facial adornments.  Apparently I look like Santa at the moment….not good for April!

We immediately dropped onto the riverside path which would guide us directly East to Blyth, and within a minute we had lost Gavin.  He had stopped to take a few photos of this pretty stretch of the Blyth river and who could blame him.  The light and shade made for excellent pics, and Gavin is the master, being a photographer by trade.

After a mile of gravel track and tarmac we crossed a road bridge over the river at Furnace Bank, and took an immediate left to continue our trundle towards Blyth.  We passed below the impressive steelwork of the Bedlington railway bridge, built in its current form in 1930 by the LNER (London & North-Eastern Railway), and soon to be reopened to carry the canny folk of South-East Northumberland when “gannin to the toon”. 

Just beyond the spine road (A189) bridge overhead, the route left the river and joined tarmac at Kitty Brewster farm.  I like the name “Kitty Brewster”. I discovered that it probably relates to a Gaelic name meaning “stepping stones over a bog”, and here it is as the name of a region of Blyth, near Bebside.  We then “went urban” as we passed through industrial and housing estate en route to a singletrack bridleway that runs alongside the spine road initially, before accompanying the Northumberland railway line as far as Newsham.  The bridleway surface was good and firm, so we happily sped along, keeping an eye out for unwary pedestrians emerging from the side alleys. 

Heading South-East through suburbia we reached the sand dunes and beach huts of Blyth beach, sitting towards the Northern end of a stretch of sand which continues to Seaton Sluice.  An undulating tarmac path weaves through the dunes on its way South.  Popular with dog walkers, families, runners and cyclists, this path can get quite busy.  Although a great place to bring kids for a ride, It’s not much of a technical challenge, so it is best to head inland to follow the Waggonways of Northumberland and North Tyneside. 

Some of these waggonways are hundreds of years old.  Built for transporting coal from nearby pits to barges on the River Tyne or at the coast, the carts were either horse-drawn or more laterly, drawn by steam locomotives.  It was no coincidence to have a pioneer of the railways, George Stephenson, living down the road at Killingworth.  

Just West of Seaton Delaval Hall we joined the old Blyth & Tyne Line and on reaching Holywell Dene turned seaward and followed the Seaton Burn to its mouth at Seaton Sluice.  Thankfully a hardpack permissive pathway allows riders to enjoy this pretty local nature reserve through the Delaval Estate. Delaval Hall was the residence of the De Laval family, Hubert De Laval being the nephew of William the Conqueror by marriage.  “Seaton” is derived from Old English meaning a settlement (ton) by the sea.  I do like a bit of trivia.

Salt produced at the nearby Hartley pans was shipped out at the small natural harbour of Seaton Sluice.  The harbour, however, was prone to silting, limiting access to ships.  To solve this, in the 1600’s Sir Ralph De Laval, had a pier constructed, and the sluice gates trapped the seawater at high tide.  At low tide the gates were opened, flushing the sand out of the harbour.  SImple but effective…and this is what gives the village its name.  On a sunny day it is a perfect place to chill and watch the wind turbines and waves.  I just wish the pubs had been open, as a pint would have gone down rather well.  Covid 19’ has a lot to answer for!!  The excellent Harbour View fish and chip shop was open, and though normally I’d be joining the queue, we thought better of it with a few more miles of riding ahead of us. 

Dragging ourselves away from the coast and heading back up the Holywell Dene we came across a fabulous area for mountain bikers to hone their skills.  Plenty of gap jumps, a few table tops and some lovely bermed corners….way beyond my capabilities on a cyclo-cross bike….and if I’m honest….on any bike.  You could spend hours in this playground surrounded by ancient woodland and wildlife.  

Continuing up the dene we joined the bridleway at Holywell Bridge and continued on West to Seghill.  Tarmac and trails (you may see that written on occasion!) then led us North to a mysterious sculpture, probably known by few except locals.  A lifesize steel shroud stands on a plinth by the trail which follows an old colliery line close to the Seghill Pit….a little spooky at night I’d suggest.  Once we had all taken our obligatory turn to stand within said shroud, entertaining only ourselves, we rode on up the line to the area of the East Cramlington Colliery, now East Cramlington nature reserve.  

A stop was required for a quick lesson in red squirrel trivia via the media of graffiti, but having decided that we could do all the things that red squirrels can do…and more, we pedalled on unimpressed.  The reserve is, however, a great spot for quiet walks both through woodland, over open grassland and around the ponds, with wildlife aplenty.

Dropping out of the reserve back onto tarmac we spun along the road to the Keel Row pub, to take the quiet lane joining our next section of waggonway North on the old Seaton Delaval Colliery Railway.  The pine trees along this stretch have been blown so far over by Westerlies that you feel the need to duck at times, although they present quite an artistic image.

We turned left onto the Old Plessey Waggonway for a short distance before heading for the bridge to recross the spine road at Low Horton Farm. The Three Horseshoes Pub, on the lane up to High Horton Farm, had very recently reopened and was welcoming happy punters at outdoor tables.  It was, however, too close to home for us to stop now.  

Opting to follow a path into the Horton Burn, we arrived at Humford Woods Stepping Stones.  The last time I crossed the river here the water level was quite a bit above the level of the stepping stones.  That hadn’t been a wise choice, but this time, thankfully, the river was low and you couldn’t ever imagine it could present a face of danger and hostility.  On a quiet sunny day this spot radiates peace and calm.  A great spot for paddling.

Beyond the stepping stones lay a mere half a mile of riverside trail back to the car, but with a short section running along a fairly narrow potholed concrete ledge.  A lapse of concentration here and one of us could have been making a wet ride home. Of course, we made it to the finish, dry(ish) and agreeing that this one had been a belter. More of the same next time please!!

Start/Finish – Attlee Carpark, Bedlington, Northumberland, NE22 5RX