Songline On Sea

There was no breakfast to miss at the hostel so after a curtesy cup of tea we left so Alys could get back to her busy social life which is located south of Essex and Cornwall via Harrow these days! I got the train back to Crosby. The 6 mile walk into Liverpool did not look inviting but I could see the Gormley figures again and I wanted to see Liverpool docks. The tide was up on a grey sky. There are lots of figures placed along the beach in or out of the water depending on the tide. What are they gazing at out at sea? Back to Ireland, perhaps, over to Wales or across to America? Are they defending possible invasion? The docks were worth seeing. Some have fallen into disuse, one has been taken over by scrap metal, the tobacco warehouse dated 1901 is enormously impressive but empty. A few cafes and pubs stay open in buildings which are clinging onto survival. Nearing the city there are massive new developments, some re-using old warehouses as accomodation, others are new. There are the ferries to Isle of Man, to Ireland and across the Mersey and then the splendid Liver Buildings before the old and totally reinvented Albert Docks. Here are museums, the Tate, and massive new performance venues. This is Liverpool buzzing as the European City of Culture 2008. The surprise is that so much is still very unfinished and work in progress. Were they un-ready or is all the work-in-progress part of the show? I'm staying a second night in the hostel where the manager is a keen Beatles fan. I hope to meet him later in the Cavern Club to listen to a Beatles Tribute Band. I had not realised how much Irish there is in the Liverpool accent. Also I had forgotten to what extent hostels in cities are hang outs for young people from all over the world and how much they learn from each other. I have been here before. My father worked here for a bit and I performed La Traviata here with Scottish Opera but this time I am an observer. I'm off to China Town then the Cavern Club.

The next three days there will be no blog as I am going to Graham and Julie's wedding in Melrose in the Scottish Borders.

Alys and I stayed in the Scarisbrick Hotel which is huge and offered breakfast till 9.30am. I mention this because we missed it but were out by 11am. We did Southport in the next 2 hours. It has a wonderful Victorian Arcade large enough to employ a full time painter. The art gallery had a few interesting works but the main attraction is the splendid Lord Street. We walked passed Royal Birkdale Golf Course but the sand dunes got in the way of seeing any of it bar the galleries rising behind them from last week's Open Championships. We could easily see Pontins where we got back onto the beach for several miles. We rather unecessarily went off the beach at Formby to set foot in Victoria Road where lots of footballers live. The next part to Crosby was largely uninteresting until we spotted Anthony Gormley's impressively stolid statues staring out to sea. We almost got stuck on a sand-bar mesmerised by the figures. Suddenly it was 8 o'clock and on enquiry found that there were no B&Bs in Crosby. We would have to go to Liverpool so we purchased train tickets only to find our train was delayed because of a drunk on the track. Having had a meal the train was once more running after an hours delay. I had phoned ahead to check availability at a Liverpool Hostel and got there by 11.30pm. Now we are 'chillin' out da back and havin' a cuppa T'.

Richard woke me up with a cup of tea which is a first on this trip then Cheryl made me a bacon and egg batch which is Lancashire for a sandwich. It kept me going till 6pm. My daughter, Alys arrived at Preston Station at 11.38am to join me for 2 days. She saw more of Preston than planned as I left at Richard's, first my mobile and then my water bottle. I had got out of focus which was only amusing but it reminded me of how vigilant you have to keep on all your bits and pieces. Richard dropped us off at a remote spot where the coast starts again before Southport. A 4x4 drew up with farmer Alec inside asking if we were lost. We left Richard and went with Alec to his farm even nearer to the coast. His celery and other crops of the new marshland all go off to Morrisons but Alec was not just a retired farmer. He had a huge collection in a barn of vintage bicycles including a Pennyfarthing which he had ridden over 5 days from John O'Groats to Lands End and in many other locations. He also played a wicked game of tabletennis and showed us his collection of old dolls and toys from yesteryear. We could have stayed with Alec much longer but had to tear ourselves away after a cup of tea to take the seawall to Southport. There was a vast 360 degree view of the sky so we saw the storm coming. It was massive and we only found shelter in a car after being totally drenched. They offered to take us to Southport but Alys insisted we walk which was wise because soon there was a fascinating landscape and sunshine. Southport was something of a revelation to me. Lord Street is a classy boulevard with excellent shops ang hotels, one of which we are staying in after a meal in Wetherspoons. Alys is the first of my children to come and walk with me on this trip. Seeing Richard again and going back down memory lane in Preston was also special and helped to re-adjust the picture so that in the end it becomes more accurate.

So far most of my decisions by good fortune have mostly been correct. I chose a very large hotel which gave me a good deal and was located on the North Shore of Blackpool. Today I explored the centre round the tower and walked on through South Shore and that's when I praised my decision. The centre and south are the closest I have come across to places in India and Africa where its exciting, colourful and full of life but some of the sights and odours although interesting are, shall we say, challenging. It's not apparently a place to be at night or during Glasgow Holiday Week. Blackpool is a world of its own and well worth a visit as it must be Britain's most famous seaside town. Everything is larger than ordinary life. The beach is huge, so too, the newly laid out promenade and the Big Dipper, has to be seen to be believed. Trams run all the way down from Fleetwood which maintains an old world charm. One place merges into another and it's not long before St. Anne's and then Lytham comes. Pomtin's Holiday Camp is the last of Blackpool, then after a few sand dunes the world changes. The houses get larger and larger as does the beach, then round the corner and there is the River Ribble. The Ribble marks the end of this stretch of coast from Fleetwood and for me meant Preston was not far - a significant place from my early years for that was where I was at primary school. I rang Richard who was with me at that school and lived a few houses from me. He came to pick me up and we have had the most wonderful evening. He gave me a trip around where we lived and showed me Preston as it is now. Some places sadly no longer exists but there is now a well established university and to add to the many Catholic Churches are Mosques. I took many photos! Thanks to Tim Leeney for doing the last few blogs whilst Kaya was away.

I'm getting two days ahead of schedule so that I can arrive in Liverpool with time to take two days off and attend Graham's wedding in Galashiels next weekend. Today is my sixty-first birthday. It took a long time getting out of Fleetwood and beyond because there were lots of lovely text messages and phone calls. My mother is a big fan of my project and is following it on the map with ever-increasing amazement. As a big walker herself she never suspected I would be capable of anything like this. The one card was from Kaya who left it with me last week. She is in Amsterdam dancing in an art deco movie in a bank and the old olympic stadium. I am impressed. Today was hot, damned hot. All day I was walking along a promenade watching the tide come in through Cleveleys and into Blackpool. A boat ran aground in Cleveleys in January so a half mile of the beach is closed off whilst demolition takes place. It looks like an enormous beached whale. The beach improves as you approach Blackpool but there are sandbanks where you can easily get stranded by the fast incoming tide. I had to help a young family who got caught out! I was looking forward to Blackpool but was frankly disappointed. I was advised to take a hotel on the seafront and not to go down the side streets. There is huge competition for custom so even in the Savoy Brittania hotel I was able to get a room for £30. The hotel was taken over by tea dancers from six until eleven pm. They were a fit group of elderly people who cheerfully do this every week. I didn't go up Blackpool tower as it cost nearly £10 so I had a bottle of wine instead with my pizza.

At this precise moment which is nearing ten pm I am sitting in Wetherspoons, Fleetwood. Martin is having a most eventful journey back to London. The last ferry across the river Wear from Knott End to Fleetwood was at 6 pm. We were desperately walking against the clock and made it to the pier at 6.02 pm as the little ferryboat was arriving for its last journey. We were triumphant and I was leaping about the boat and wanting to take pictures of a large ferry just arriving from Ireland when the Manchester United supporting crewman very bluntly told me to sit down. It seemed like we had plenty of time leaving Glasson at 11.30 am with about twelve miles to walk to the ferry so we were rather leisurely about chatting to the local shopkeeper about the problems of rural post offices, enjoying the well signposted Lancashire coast path. The Heysham power station looked rather impressive in the hazy sunlight. It became a very hot day. We passed the site of an old monastery and soon after met a large gathering of people watching and taking part in paragliding. It's well over two thousand pounds for the kit, or two hundred pounds for a tandem jump from 14,000 ft, the first part of which is a minute of free falling at 140 mph. We talked of the two characters we had met yesterday, especially an elderly gentleman who had left Lancashire to live and work in Canada who moonlighted as a pianist and had accompanied both Frank Sinatra and Bob Hope. It was the most believable part of a nonstop monologue the rest of which was full of conspiracy theories concerning cancer and the queen. After Martin left, I explored Fleetwood which gave me a strange feeling. On discovering that it was created as a holiday place for the poorer people by Sir Peter Hesketh-Fleetwood what I had felt made more sense. It has not had the injection of funding that Morecombe has, but my feeling is that it could at least equal its neighbour as an example of Victorian endeavour.

It was windy, but bright and sunny having a tent breakfast. The campsite was a good one with some impressively huge tents around about which needed equally huge 4x4s to transport them with huge amounts of children. These tents plug into the system and house TVs and are home to large groups who stay for weeks on end for the children's summer holidays. Bingo and entertainment is all on hand in the holiday park and the tide rolls in at some point each day. We plastered ourselves with suncream ready for what we thought was to be another scorcher of a day. How wrong we were! The only way to go from Heysham across the river Lune was to go back to Morecombe and cross to Lancaster. The two places are only separated by the river. Lancaster is a lovely town. We came across a specialist tea and coffee house where I enjoyed the very best fresh Java coffee with a special cake served up with Lancashire cheese. We did our shopping and visited the Quaker meeting house. The two minutes spent there was plenty of time. George Fox was big around here and there are still many Meeting Houses and Friends Schools both sides of the Pennines. We walked by the river Lune to where it meets the Irish Sea at Glasson. The sky clouded over. It became very close, then dark and thundery. We got to the pub in Glasson just in time before the heavens opened and we sat there over tea needing to revise our plans. Camping and walking any further was out of the question, so we booked into a pub for B & B. Martin still trying to work out how to get back to London tomorrow, Kaya was delayed at Gatwick en route to Amsterdam to do three days filming and I just wanted to get on with washing my clothes. We had thought of getting way past here today but actually this is where I had expected to be according to my surprisingly accurate schedule.

The campsite was rather rudimentary at Carnforth. It was as they themselves described, a working farm. In fact they were working till the early hours on bailing their hay in an adjacent field. The £4.00 charge for the night was about right. Todays walk was in beautiful hot sunshine and all along the coast. The tide was out as we passed the stretch where the Chinese cockle pickers perished. A lady gave us some instruction on sinking sands. Apparently, you only sink down to your armpits by which time the sand has closed in around your legs. Do not let anyone try to pull you out, otherwise your legs may be left behind. Rather, call the fire brigade who pump in water under the sand to release your legs. We thanked for the information. Hesk Bank looked nice but soon we were up on the promenade walking into Morecombe with the tide racing in. This was my first west coast English seaside town and what a revelation. There is a feel good factor about Morecombe which has had a large amount of public money pumped in to improve the public areas, and private funds invested in particularly the splendid Art Deco Midland Hotel. We took our muddy boots off to partake of afternoon tea in the sun lounge which they have sadly not air-conditioned. The foyer and the especially the staircase make this a must visit and a double room at £159 would be worth a shot. Martin was certainly interested! We passed shops selling Morecombe Rock and loads of Lakeland Icecream but we had to sort out where to stay so went to Tourist Information. There was camping down at Heysham so off we went to Ocean View Holiday Park. The site on the map which we assumed was Ocean View closed 20 years ago. We asked a great grandson who was reclining under a tree for help so he got his great grandfather who gave us tea and a street map. I still went the wrong way so an ex-para with his 2 dogs went out of his way to guide us. Eventually we got to the campsite which is next to Heysham Powerstation and just south of a busy port which serves the Isle of Man. What a great day. Martin has a blister!

We had a nice hotel in Grange for Kaya's last night. She left on the bust for the 8 1/2 hour journey back to East Grinstead. I got the train across the Kent Estuary to Arnside and waited for Martin Stoll to arrive after a 4 hour train journey from London. Martin sings bass in my London choir and is up for 3 or 4 days. It was very muggy again today as we plodded around often a very muddy shoreline looking at the incoming tide over the vast Morecombe Bay. I have been walking for many days but today there were more people also out walking that I have so far witnessed. And the signposts, Wow! how they have improved! This is surely walking country. We crossed into Lancashire just before Silverdale where the Lancashire Coastal Way is excellently marked. The Cumbrian one had been pretty bad. The network of cycle routes are all very well marked with clearly much more money having been invested in them over recent years. It was a day of huge contrasts walking on hard and muddy sand, through woods, farmlands, salt marshes and roads. We have set up camp by the sea at Carnforth and have just had a pub meal by the Lancaster Canal. Martin took really quite a long time putting up the tent he bought last Sunday for £5.00 we shall find out tomorrow or before whether this was wise. We walk around looking like twins as we are wearing almost exactly the same clothing.

I was four nights in Barrow. It ended up as a useful centre like Oban and Stranraer had been.

We got the train to Ulverston and stayed on to get across the estuary to Cark-in-Cartmel. The coast path took us to Humphrey Head then round to Grange-over-Sands. It looked, from the map, like a walk on sand but, in fact, there is a large apron of grass all around the coast. This grass is a cross between salt marsh and field. It gets covered for the five days of high tide each month, otherwise the sheep are out.

This strange, quiet landscape is not indicated on the map so it took us by surprise. This is new land and it looks quite ridiculous at Grange-over-Sands because there is no sand and the old Victorian promenade is round a field with sheep grazing. One hundred years ago ships brought Victorian tourists to the pier. The climate is very mild and everywhere is thick vegetation. It is described as the Torquay of the north. On reflection it may have been better to visit the home of Lord & Lady Cavendish at Holker Hall just to the north of Cark and then to visit Cartmel Priory but we would have missed the awesome silence of a new landscape still creating itself. According to law, I think the Queen should own it but I didn't ask the farmer about that!

In Flookburgh we called in to the village store to find out what a fluke was. It is the local name for flounder. As on the other side of the estuary, men go out on tractors to fish for flounder and shrimps. The route out over the sands and the territory is all information passed on through local families and carefully guarded.

We booked into stay another night in our Barrow hotel so we didn't have to carry rucksacks and there are good travel links back from Ulverston to Barrow.

Today was a walk up the west side of Morecambe Bay, a great experience which I was pleased for Kaya experiencing it as well. The tide was in as we started and it gradually went out as we walked. During lunch we watched a dog owner lob a stick far out to sea and then watched the dog appearing to dance on the water - it was so shallow. It was like the plug had been pulled out and the sand rose above the water through some underground inbreath. Morecambe Bay is vast. We met two men with tractors preparing to go out three miles across the sand to catch shrimp in the 90 minutes the tide gave them before it turned. The cockle season is November/December.

We went inland at Conishead Priory to visit the Tibetan Buddhist temple inspired and led by Venerable Gesha Kelsang Gyatso. Normally they claim to welcome visitors but with a big event coming up we were anything but welcome. We both had far too much hair to be invisible and soon got invited to leave. We didn't see much of Ulverston except the no. 11 bus stop and are left to wonder what the Laurel & Hardy Museum was like, Hardy having come from here.

Back at our hotel there was some very strange behaviour in the restaurant as one customer was either sending text messages, coughing, or drinking heavily and tried to do a runner but our plucky waitress ran and caught him. We chatted with a heavily tattooed young man who longed to get out of Barrow and had earlier been boxing in an underground ring which he was forced into doing from not being able to afford his gym fees. "A'right?" as they say up here.

After breakfast we left our guesthouse that I had rather hastily booked when wet, cold and tired on Friday evening. The Duke of Edinburgh is a reasonable hotel in every way, essentially regarding price and ambiance.

The Dock Museum is situated appropriately in an old dry dock and tells Barrow's short story from about 1840. It took three men to create a town and jobs and already it has gone through several incarnations. There is a resident population and a huge army of contract workers who book out all the available accommodation on weekdays.

We then took the coastal route around docks, a reservoir, past a huge gas terminal, on to the beach and down a causeway to Roa Island where there is an invitingly short boat trip to Peel Island with a pub and a fortified monastery. The wind was so strong that the small boat wasn't running. We were ordering a taxi to take us to Furness Abbey when two ladies offered a lift taking us right to the entrance. The ruins of the abbey, in the care of English Heritage, are impressive, as was the Cistercian empire which from here, ruled most of Furness with outposts in the Isle of Man and Ireland.

To walk back the two miles to our hotel would not have been interesting so we were grateful for another lift. For two people a hotel offers a much better deal. The flat-screen TV gave great pictures for the close of the Open Championship. The local news in Barrow comes under BBC North West which means hearing mostly about Liverpool and Manchester. The sun shone most of the day but the wind was stronger than I have experienced so far this year. I believe wind and rain is a way of life round these parts.

In taking the train from Barrow back to Askam I bumped into Philip again on his way to work. I only had to go one stop but he told me about everything we passed which was mostly lavatorial paper factories, quarries, mines and what I thought were giant iron ore slag heaps which he said were twice the size not long ago.

The tide was in as I set off from Askam so I had to walk inland to round one point. The north-west wind was very strong in my face as was the sand, which was like a shimmering silken veil being waved before me. Everywhere I walked towards Barrow was marked on the map as sand. The beach was glorious but as the tide very quickly withdraws the beach becomes vast, more like a desert. There were very large sand dunes.

Barrow is surrounded by a number of islands, the largest of which is Walney. Where the mainland is closest to the north end there is a little village of hand-made homes waving St George's flags. One is clearly made out of a boat. They pay some sort of rent to the National Trust to live there but I don't think there are any full-time residents.

It was only six miles or so to Barrow where I prepared for Kaya's arrival on the bus which duly happened a little earlier than scheduled but I was there leaping about!

I found out a little more about Millom. Most workers go either north to Selafield or south to Barrow shipyards. Nearby to Millom are 600 category C prisoners who need supervising and the main industry in the town is a barbed wire factory! The vicar is Rev. Robert Bracegirdle. I did a few text messages over a cup of not very good coffee in the hopes that I'd get some replies, which I did. It was raining when I left to walk round the old railway line up the estuary. I caught the 2pm train for one stop over the estuary which took 2 minutes, cost £1, and saved 5 miles. At Foxfield I met Philip, who opens the gate to let cars through at the level crossing. They ring him, he rings to ask if he can open the gate, he opens them, then rings to say they are shut. He has done this for 3 years, is 47 and intends doing it for another 17 years when he retires and loves it. I ate my sandwich with him and he gave me water and lots of local information. I was enjoying the walk on the south side of the estuary and had calculated being able to walk on the sand whilst the tide was out and then to camp at Askam but it pelted down with rain. I was soaked by the time I got to the Clubhouse at Askam Golf Course and bumped into Tony. He had given up playing after 2 holes and was equally soaked but had a car. He ended up not only giving me a lift to Barrow but driving me around the town, on to Walney Island and dropped me off in the B&B area. I'm staying the night with a couple from Hong Kong. I had a rib-eye steak in Weatherspoons which was exactly like the one I had in Whitehaven but tonight the next table had a lady sitting with an anti-social laugh which drove me mad. There are all sorts at Weatherspoons, it's cheap and you can witness a cross section of the local community right across the age range.

This part of the trip was difficult to plan. Now I'm living out having to get round these huge estuaries, I'm not surprised. The railway takes the best route and I can't think why they don't attach a pedestrian walkway alongside them like they have at Ravenglass. The choice is to check the train times and hop over the bridge illegally (penalty £200), walk round many extra miles or if the tide is out walk across what is a dotted red line on the O/S map agains which it says 'Walking across is dangerous. Seek local guidance.' The other factor is the weather. Today was ghastly - wind and rain. It had been a rough night under canvas and I hate having to pack a wet tent so was pleased to catch the 11.30am train on the narrow gauge miniature railway which goes 7 miles up the Esk Valley into the hills and back. It was still bucketing down when I looked at the train times towards Barrow. The next one was due in 10 minutes so I took it and for £1.70 got to Millom. It was still raining so I rang a number I had for the Youth Hostel to find it had closed 13 months ago. Just by the station was the Folk Museum. I found out that the Earl of Lonsdale(Lowther) had bought up this place as well and mined coal and iron ore. That part of its history had begat the rather muddled town much as it is now and gave it a 100 year prime time brought to an end like so many other places in 1968. I checked into the only place to stay where he reduced his asking price since it was so quiet. It stopped raining so I explored the coast from Haverigg round to Millom. The massive seawall built to prevent the mines flooding closed a huge salt lake which is now a haven for birds and other wildlife. Terns were nesting, swans were taking their newborn for an outing, and swifts were darting. I have yet to see a natterjack toad which all the imformation boards claim is around all down this coast. I could see Barrow's shipyards clearly across the estuary, close, yet 2 days walk away. I had an excellent Thai meal in a restaurant where I was the only customer. I assume they do better with takeaways. Millom would be hard to be fond of yet Norman Nicholson, author and poet, lived here all his life before his death in 1987.

If it's a full moon tonight then it will be the third of my trip and the first one I'm unlikely to see. It started raining after a grey day just before I put my tent up in Ravenglas and looks to be set in for the night. I'm waiting for it to stop in the Ratty Arms, an excellent pub which used to be the railway station. Alongside it is the old Ravenglas and Eskdale Railway which I shall take tomorrow for the 40 minute and 10 mile journey up into the Lake District. I went down to the shingle beach just beyond the railway line after breakfast. Each little village has its own request stop on the platform which will take you either to Barrow or Carlisle. I was surprised to find a row of houses like a shanty town at the top of the shingle beach, tucked up against the railway line. Very smart since they know the railway will maintain the bank with Selafield as the next stop. I walked to the Visitor's Centre at Selafield where I spent well over an hour. It's free and excellently explains the history of the neuclear age plus their plans for decommissioning. Two armed guards passed me on foot as I left. They didn't want me to photograph them so I took them from behind as they walked off. Selafield is huge, very impressive and is precisely the same age as I am. It will be back to being a field when I am almost 80! i had a good beach walk again today and then I have to confess to walking half a mile on the railway line as a short cut at Drigg where there is a huge compound storing neuclear waste. There are military ranges in the remote areas at the mouth of the River Esk which is the biggest of the several rivers bringing silt down from the mountains. I wish it would stop raining but it's not as bad as last July!

It was a day that had everything. I had a few things still to do in Whitehaven. I wanted to visit the Georgian church of St. James which has a fine interior which indeed it had but could only view it from the back because a local primary school were having their end of term concert. I had to download my photos and in addition got a lesson in how to best use my nice little Fuji camera. He pressed a few knobs and handed it back saying I'd got a Rolls Royce camera and was only driving it at 30 miles an hour. I left Whitehaven looking back down on its splendid harbour and on through yet another old mining area. It was a cliff path up and round St. Bees Head and the Irish Sea at last. Great bird colony on the cliffs with all the usual residents. It rained hard just before having to tread a path with overhanging ferns and long grass. When I was through the sun came out so I changed to waterproof socks which in wet shoes keep my feet dry. Walking down into St. Bees village I got my first sighting of Selafield which is huge and rather impressive. St. Bees is where the coast to coast walk starts, has a huge beach, a good cafe and lots of day-trippers and caravan folk. From the end of the sandy beach at St. Bees the Cumbrian Coast Path has completely eroded away so I took a very quiet road running pararell before getting to Blakeston Campsite and pitching up in glorious evening sunlight. Alas, the nearest place to eat was 1 1/2 miles inland but the White Mare served up a wonderful meal. Thanks to Liz for doing the blog for the last fortnight whilst Kaya was in Japan but now she's back and will be coming to join me on Saturday for a few days. It's nearly another full moon.

I had tea, toast and marmalade with the reverend lady before she took me from her house back to the harbour and then herself to attend a course in Derbyshire to prepare her for a new role within the local area in addition to the five chapels she already looks after. I felt much better and put down my tiredness yesterday to a bad food experience probably in Silloth.

Much of the coast between Workington and Whitehaven has been subjected to the influence of heavy industry, in other words cliffs of slag which are now eroding into the sea. I was surprised then to hear that both Nicholas Crane of BBC's "Coast" and his parents had chosen to have houses in or around Harrington.

I had intended to get down to St Bees but Whitehaven captivated me. The next town south is Barrow-in-Furness on Saturday; there is Sellafield between and I found the Waverley Hotel was offering a single room for £28.

The harbour in Whitehaven has gates which close before the tide goes out and the whole area has been worked on as part of the Whitehaven renaissance. The Queen was here just one month ago to open The Beacon (museum) which overlooks the splendid harbour. She was scheduled to visit for half an hour but stayed 45 minutes. I was scheduled to stay one hour and stayed one and a half hours! It was hugely interesting and at last I found out about John Paul Jones whose name has cropped up all around the Solway Firth. He is remembered here for having attacked the town in 1779 whilst roaming the seas on an American ship during the Wars of Independance. He must have delighted in this being a Scot from Kirkcudbright.

I am coming to terms with this stretch of the coast. Whitehaven looks down on Workington, which in turn, looks down on Maryport, which in turn gazes mystified at Silloth. Maryport is described as Scaryport by people here. Whitehaven is, as I said, having a renaissance, the others Regeneration! The Romans were common to all but later the church owned almost everything till Henry VIII put his foot down. He, of course, closed the land owning monasteries and sold the land so big family names became associated with every town. Here it was the Lowthers who found that the ground yielded huge riches in the shape of coal, iron and minerals allowing them to build and create entire towns such as Whitehaven, which is pure Georgian. It also has a Wetherspoons which makes me very happy - even the seagulls sound happy.

There are three million sheep in Cumbria, which was made fun of on TV's "Look North". It was the one item on the north west, all the other items were about the north east. It's like that every night!

There was no-one about this morning in Maryport - a town with a hangover. The town grew up around shipbuilding and exporting coal. Now it offers the Lake District's aquarium and the new marina.

I walked mostly on or by the beach till Flimby where there are large chemical plants and wind turbines before hitting Workington. There was a lot of heavy industry here, iron, steel and coal but it's all gone. The housing and many of the people belonged to those industries and they are now spectators as slagheaps turn into landscaped green spaces and the odd sculpture to remind them of the past.

I was in good time at Harrington Harbour for the ecumenical Sea Sunday celebration. There was the Flimby brass band to accompany the hymns and a congregation of mostly Catholics, Anglicans and Methodists. My contribution I felt was going well whilst I spoke but Orlando's piece I think went well over their heads and landed about 20 miles out in the Solway Firth which lay before me. There was a large number of clerics about including a bishop from Florida who had strayed up here somehow from the Lambeth conference. I ended up staying with Reverend Nicola Reynolds, the Methodist minister, who gave me a very good insight into the West Cumbrian psyche. It was most interesting.

Last Saturday it was the Ride of the Marches with all the horses and piped bands in Annan. Today it was carnival day in Maryport. It was well over by the time I arrived at 5:30pm and the town was full of litter, police and very drunk locals.

Silloth looked much better in good weather. I'd seen a hedgehog last night mistaking it at first for a rat and wondered where it spent its days. The day, as I said, was fine but with a cold wind and I ended up wearing three layers of clothing. From Silloth to Maryport was 13 miles, which could have all been done on the beach but I did about half because it's quite tiring and my shoes are by no means watertight. I'll hopefully have a new pair when Kaya comes up to Barrow-in-Furness next Saturday.

The Solway Firth has taken longer than any other estuary. I am not sure where it starts and finishes but this part is still called the Solway coast and it's now been three weeks since I was in Stranraer. It was a very clear day so I was able to see the Galloway coast back to the Isle of Whithorn and latterly the Isle of Man again. The journey will appear quicker now as I travel due south with the Lake District on my left. Allanby was an intriguing little village. The Quakers were a major presence as they are all over this area, indeed both sides of the Pennines.

I did my first long walk with a group of friends in 1966 walking the Pennine Way. We were forced to stop near Carlisle because of foot and mouth so we ended up in nearby Wigtown where one of the group came from, his father being a housemaster at the Friends' school (since closed and burnt down). His father was the grandson of Joachim, Brahms' violinist. I well remember his playing me a very old recording of him playing the violin concerto.

Maryport looks like a bomb site and could have been intimidating but everyone was so drunk and there were so many police that it was probably, in fact, safer than usual. I got a cheap B&B in the Waverley Hotel since there was no campsite, which I am pleased about because I seem to feel very tired.

The forecast was bad and Harrington Dock is only two days march so I agreed with brolly to have a lie in and stay in Silloth for the day, recoup and do the three-mile walk north to Grune Point. It was a good decision. Silloth was Carlisle's nearest fun town and whilst the railway came here it thrived. It is a splendid example of Victorian invention. It has wide streets so that four-horse carriages could turn, five churches, large vistas across the sea to Galloway, good air and wonderful sunsets. Carrs Biscuits have a large factory by the docks where grain arrives from Spain, Denmark, Germany, France and Canada to produce the famous taste and texture. Carrs are a Carlisle firm. Kathleen Ferrier married the NatWest bank manager.

The walk northwards via Skinburnness was where Edward I harboured the English fleet en route to Scotland. The harbour became victim of storm damage and is no longer there but it was the first of the Roman forts down this Lake District coastline. I was so pleased to have got to the Grune. The weather improved, I had the place to myself so gave a heartfelt rendition of Orlando's piece aimed at Scotland and offered it as thanks for a wonderful nine weeks. I now have four weeks walking in England before getting to North Wales.

I was only disturbed in my alfresco campsite by the rain - the theme for the day. I waited till it stopped at about 10.00am which coincided with a young girl of about ten who came along with her football and ended up helping me shake the rain off my tent. I got water from the village hall where ten elderly ladies were having a coffee morning. They said not a word while I was there!

Two miles further on at Newton Arlosh I joined a pub full of elderly people having lunch. It was a lifesaver having delicious poached salmon in whisky and cream sauce - my first proper meal since breakfast yesterday. They told me of a couple who two years ago stopped on their clockwise journey around Britain starting and finishing at John O'Groats.

Today's walk was entirely through farmland which used to be owned by the monks of Holm Cultram Abbey at Abbeytown, which I looked forward to visiting. But first the unusual church at Newton Arlosh which had a fortified square tower in which the locals hid when marauding Scots came to steal cattle (14th century). It also, in the middle of the 19th century, had an incumbant who had to be replaced by his curate because of his excessive drunkenness. At Abbeytown two years ago a local youth was very drunk and set fire to the abbey church so it was closed. The young teenager was released by the court with a caution.

The Cumbrian coastal path I do not trust around the edge of the marshes so I walked along the road to Silloth latterly in heavy rain. There are seven campsites in and around Silloth but I needed a warm night so have a B&B - a decision which was easy to make but the right one because it is still raining.

It is Sea Sunday this week and I have been asked to sing at an outdoor ecumenical service at Harrison Harbour which is south of Maryport. They have a wet weather contingency plan since this appears to be the rainy season.

I've been looking over the Solway Firth at Eastriggs and then Annan. Scotland is going into the distance, the Lake District rises ahead. The Solway Firth has gradually merged into the Irish Sea.

I had breakfast with Daphne Hogg in her farmhouse kitchen. There are many Roman stones in her farm buildings recognisable by being large and square. They got funding to restore their historic barns and since the farm doesn't make a living, Daphne may use them for teas and refreshments. Still in Port Carlisle I had coffee with the friendly landlord of the Hope & Anchor and stocked up with crisps and a Yorkie bar. I mention this because for the rest of the walking day there was neither shop nor pub.

Bowness-on-Solway is the closest settlement to the other side and is the end of Hadrian's Wall. I'm not sure, however, that many people bother going this far as there is no wall left beyond Carlisle. There used to be a railway bridge from Bowness to Annan across the Solway but it didn't last long. There were raids by both Scots and English who crossed the Solway and stole cattle and church bells.

The coast beyond Bowness has a road round to Anthorn but it becomes very remote with just a few farms. The silence though was awesome which I enjoyed lying down with my head on my rucksack. I met a beekeeper who was thrilled to see that the local farmer had planted lupins in with his wheat crop which is apparently good for feeding the cows in winter but also for his bees once they find them. He says they fly up to two miles from their hives up on the common. Anthorn is at the most remote point so the military have been there. They have used it as an airport for Lancaster bombers, a radar station during the Cold War and now for tracking submarines and regulating our time. Yes, it seems to be done here and not in Greenwich.

I had expected a B&B in Whitrigg but it didn't work out, it started to rain, and Kaya phoned from Japan. I was in chaos for a while and I have ended up wild camping in Kirkbride on a children's play area. I knew the pub had no food so it was emergency rations in the tent. Hey ho!

After last night's blog I went in search of a meal and could not believe the number of motorbikes and cars roaring around the town not a stone's throw away from the police station.

Today I enjoyed looking at the fine Georgian/Victoria houses of the Tatsworth estate which covers a large portion of the city and belongs to the Duke of Devonshire. The other big landowner is Lord Lonsdale of boxing belt fame. With every new lord they had horse races on the flat marshland beside the Solway Firth where I walked today.

Walking out of town took me through streets which were rather uninteresting, like most large towns. I was not expecting anything particularly special today so I was overjoyed with what I met. Kirkandrews was a village full of wonderful houses but despite its name, no church. Burgh-on-Sands (pronounced bruff) had even better houses and I could not resist going into the interesting looking church. How lovely to be back in England and find a delightful village church open, and what a welcome when the lights slowly came on automatically. A tapestry explained that close to the church King Edward I died on his way to hammer the Scots again on 7 July 1307. That was 701 years ago yesterday. His body was brought to this very church where it lay in state before going back to London. The church was built out of stones from a Roman villa which previously stood on the same site.

Next came four miles of totally flat land and the explanation for all these fine houses. From 1823 to 1851 there was a canal operating which ran from Port Carlisle through these villages to Carlisle city centre. The canal was filled in and replaced by a railway which closed in the '60s and now a very straight road goes along where Hadrian's Wall once stood, which is covered at high tides by up to three feet of water. Turf from this area was used in the past for both Wembley Stadium and Wimbledon!

Port Carlisle, where I've set up camp next to some German scouts, has a fine row of Georgian terraced houses in perfect order. Its odd to meet this in an area which is now just farmland and where the locals catch salmon and sea trout with haaf nets just like the other side of Solway. The sunset over the water was magical, the sky vast. No rain today - so far.

I had a lovely morning in a comfortable B&B texting and phoning people. Looking at the local information I decided to go on the wonderful train ride from Carlisle to Settle which I have never done. I still haven't. I went excitedly to the railway station to find that there were engineering works that started today for a week and a bus was provided from Allenby to Settle - no thanks.

It started pouring with rain so I checked out the cinema, had a pie and a long coffee in Starbucks reading The Times. I then did my shopping which was for a small travel suitcase from Boots and equally vital all-purpose travel soap.

Then the curious bit - visiting the old Guildhall and Tullie House Museum. They have a very good collection of pre-Raphaelite work but sadly quite a few of them were away for restoration and were replaced by postcards. Evensong in the cathedral was interesting and I heard the girl choristers, who perform on Mondays with the lay clerks. The cathedral is odd since the nave has been sliced off for 400 years. In fact Carlisle is altogether intriguingly odd. It has everything a city should have and has a very long history but it's like everyone else's history was played out here. It has changed from being part of England to part of Scotland from time to time and walking the streets one can hear both Cumbrian and Scots accents. In fact, half the main street to the north is called Scots Street and the southern half is English Street.

I watched the Narnia film and will return to my B&B and try to refrain from using brolly as a sword.

I got the bus back to Gretna from Annan which cost £2.95. I mention this because it is the last time I have to pay. I visited the 1915 part of Gretna yesterday but Gretna to most people means getting married quickly and the England/Scotland border. It also now means a big shopping complex which will soon convert into a motorway service station when the A74 upgrade is completed. King Edward I had a problem of how to cross northwards and so did I, only going south. The police stopped me trying to sneak down the sliproad which meant a four mile walk inland to Longtown and into Carlisle along the A7. This meant I passed the MoD site where all the munitions are still sorted underground but was off the coast and would only get back to it by walking down the River Eden which flows through Carlisle.

There were other reasons for catching the bus - the landscape was flat and very boring, I travelled free, it was raining and I wanted to watch the Wimbledon Final. In Carlisle I went to the best hotel in the centre, had tea and biscuits for £1.95 and watched a couple of sets on my own in splendid comfort, whilst massaging my feet. When the rain stopped play I went off to find a B&B and noticed the local choral society were doing a Haydn/Mozart concert at 7:30 which I went to, leaving the tennis after Federer had won the third set. I'm writing this in Pizza Express but don't yet know the result.

I do, however, know that today was an important one as far as the trip is concerned. Today marks halfway through this year's walk and halfway through the whole 15-month project. I have now covered 2,250 miles! It took five months to walk the Scottish coast which is therefore a third of the whole coastline. I have tomorrow as a day off walking.

I was up earlier than usual and made myself a cup of tea on my excellent jetboil at 7:30. Fate had decided I should wake early so I took advantage and got to town for the 8:00 start of Annan's biggest day of the year and watched the hundred horses take off to beat the bounds. That was over in two minutes so I had a two hour breakfast to make up for it. When I got back to pack up my tent it started raining heavily so accepted the fates were dictating the whole day, left the tent up and watched the next bit of Annan's day, which was the horses returning and a fancy dress parade on floats.

Now I really had to get off to Gretna Green from where I could get a train or bus back. Just outside the town in the pouring rain, I came across a man closing the door of his horse transporter. I found he was going east and was happy to give me a lift so I got to East Riggs sitting in an armchair with two steaming horses beside me.

Between 1915 and 1916 East Riggs and Gretna were built to house 30,000 workers for a munitions factory which was nine miles long by two miles wide and stretched up the last bit of the Solway Firth almost to Carlisle. The factory and the two towns were built in a year by a workforce of 15,000 men, mostly Irish "navvies". Some of the storage facilities are still used and service our forces wherever they are engaged in active service. This was the earliest effort at town planning and many of the new ideas influenced the '60s new towns.

I caught a bus back to Annan in time for the climax of their day, which was a parade of the pipes and drums of several bands which had been competing during the day. The sun came out and the sight of an army of pipers coming down the high street was awesome. I took it as a personal farewell to my five months circumnavigation of Scotland's coast on foot and so I am deeply grateful to Annan for giving me this. John and Andrea came from Loch Arthur to see some of it and we had fish and chips together afterwards before another farewell. I'm now writing this from my tent during a heavy thunderstorm. Thank God for whisky!

Walking for 15 miles with a pack again was back to reality. The way was as flat as Essex and the weather turned back to summer. John did me a cooked breakfast for the third and last time but did not know that the side of the plate he passed me had been over the Aga hotplate. I dropped the plate onto the table as quickly as possible but two sausages fell onto the floor, which the dog quickly ate. This was a shame because those biodynamic sausages from Garvald were to die for. We had got up a bit late and had taken our time before leaving, which was a pity because if we had left an hour earlier the day would have been quite different.

Back at Glencaple we met an amazingly fast, strong tide coming up the River Nith, but joy, there were three men Haaf-netting in the water bagging incoming salmon. We had caught an exciting moment as we witnessed a technique which requires standing in the water with nets hanging from a wooden frame and bashing the salmon with a wooden club after netting it. The Vikings had brought this technique to the River Nith, which also had a tidal bore going up river at the head of the neep tide. We missed that by an hour.

Caerlaverick Castle was next and famous for the many sieges it had sustained from marauding English and Scottish covenanters. The Maxwells were lords of the castle who changed their allegiances many times but remained Catholic. I then passed a field full of tents like a battle was being enacted to find I'd missed the final of the Scottish rife championships by an hour! There was a large contingent of people from Sussex. Further on I came to a sad looking well that Robert Burns had been ordered to drink from when he was ill and then to stand in the Solway Firth for long periods. He died shortly afterwards.

I then came across the village of Rothwell where there was a museum about the origins of the very first Trustees Savings Bank. The local vicar had devised a system 120 years ago of taking money from the poor villagers and giving them interest on their savings. The museum had closed one hour earlier. I got eventually round the muddy beach to Annan which is full of red sandstone houses and flags. Tomorrow there is a big annual event as they ride horses around the boundaries of the town. The two Swiss girls in the tent next to mine who both have shocking coughs and colds are going to watch it.

It was wonderful staying three nights with John and Andrea. John is the warmest and most loving man I have ever met and is completely and utterly filled with goodness. Andrea is relatively new in his life but is also warm and generous with a weakness for Gu and swimming in the local loch which she did today before breakfast! I am loving this trip.

John showed me around Loch Arthur which is a Camphill community with two farms, a dairy, bakery and prize-winning cheese. Everyone should visit a Camphill community and experience how human beings, whoever they are, are valued for whatever contribution they can make. I am always impressed.

John dropped me off in New Abbey where I had enjoyed a few weekend house parties back in the '70s with one Alan Stewart, who used to share a flat with me in Edinburgh. I enquired about him in the post office to find that he was retiring back there very shortly so left him a note.

Just out of New Abbey is an old estate on the roadside which has Scots pine trees planted in 1750. They still stand noble, dignified and remarkably tall. Dumfries was the next town and home of Robert Burns for the last years of his short life. There are, of course, a number of places to visit but most impressive was learning more about his long-suffering wife, Jean Ardor, who bore him many children and even adopted an illegitimate child her husband had with a barmaid. Dumfries has a most beautiful bridge over the River Nith and some fine red sandstone buildings. Glencaple is down towards the sea and is famous locally for locals still practising Haaf netting where they stand in the river and catch salmon in special nets.

It was rather surreal talking to Kaya from the banks of the Nith in Japan where she is involved in important and very significant family matters. It is an important time for her. Here the weather is not much like summer. It rains and there is a cold chill in the air.

Bad weather was forecast but it only came very late on. I did something odd today. John dropped me off at Sandhills Bay and I walked to New Abbey. Then Caroline and Bridget came down from Edinburgh to walk for a bit so we walked from Kippford almost to Sandhills but were defeated by bad weather and lack of time, so only got to Castlehill Point.

There are vast tidal flats at the mouth of all the rivers around this stretch of coast so the land is slowly increasing. As the tide goes out the sea all around turns sandy coloured which looks amazing on a day like today with grey skies and occasional sunlight bringing out the colours.

The highlights were visiting the red stoned Sweetheart Abbey at New Abbey and the walk with Caroline and Bridget. Sweetheart Abbey was built by the founders of Balliol College, Oxford and has enough left of the ruins to make it worth paying £2.50 to Historic Scotland to look around. The two ladies came down from Edinburgh after their term had finished at the school and we had great fun enjoying each others' company and the scenery around the Urr Estuary.

We only just got back to Loch Arthur Camphill Community at two minutes before I was to give a presentation. It was a very real atmosphere talking and singing with them with very wet feet having just left the path. We then had a lovely supper together. Caroline is my eldest daughter's godmother and Bridget one of my star singers from Edinburgh. A lovely day!

Bluehill Farm B&B was the best of the whole trip so far. The Scottish Tourist Board have stars to indicate standards and this was a four star. Usually, I only stay in two or three stars. I don't think one star actually exists.

I notice I've already said about the farmers rising at 4:30am but they then have to milk again at 3:00pm. This routine goes on for 52 weeks a year but they have a two-week summer holiday nearby and a week's skiing in the winter when somebody else has to do it. It's a tough life with no choices - milk the cows or else!

Dalbeattie exists because of the granite quarry nearby which has produced granite which is all over the country as bridges, roads, houses and most famously Liverpool Docks. The only other thing about the town is that the 1st Lieutenant on the Titanic came from there.

Today's 13-mile walk took me up the west side of the River Urr and down the east side, a net distance of about three miles! At Kippford I met up with John Brett who lives nearby and with whom I shall stay for three nights. He is a very dear friend from Edinburgh where we were colleagues. I taught all his five children and we made lots of music together so we have many happy memories. He lives adjacent to a Camphill home where I am to make a presentation tomorrow night.