After I wake up, I want to go see Berwick. I didn't get a chance to properly explore it yesterday and it seems like there is quite a bit to see. We also have a deadline today, we are going to Lindisfarne, the Holy Island, and the causeway is flooded at high tide, so we have to be over it by 12:30. So, I set off and head down towards the river. That generally seems to be a good place to start.
There is a cute old bridge over the river, it says it is from 1600 sometime and was the main bridge until less than 100 years ago. Looks like a nice sturdy bridge. Off in the distance is the famous tall arched railroad bridge, which is one of the things I remember from the town all the times I took the train through it.
Berwick, like this whole region we rode across, went back and forth between Scotland and England a number of times. I guess the whole region is all about border disputes, going back to Hadrian's Wall, and probably before that too. So, the city is walled and fortified and walking along the walls and ramparts makes for a nice walk.
I head north up onto the Elizabethan ramparts which climb up over the city and overlook the ocean. I also walk past a bunch of signs for the Lowry trail, showing the streets and buildings that inspired various Lowry paintings. He was apparently, according to the signs, a much beloved British painter. Hmm, I had never heard of him before. But then back and down south past the Royal Border Bridge, the arched railway one. It is a nice walk and has taken me about an hour. The water is nice too, a few herons stand around and fly around. I guess I consider that I've seen Berwick now. Seems nice but I'm not sure I feel a burning need now to rush back.
Most everybody is finishing their breakfast when I get back. I scrounge what is left of the cereal and various bits of bread. I have to rush and pack too, we are supposed to be out by 10 and there is also high tide to think of. I'm feeling a bit anti-social and am quite happy to ride off by myself when everybody else decides to ride through town a bit before they head off. It is nice finding your own way and going at your own pace. And it is a pretty cool route too. It isn't the easiest one. The first part of it goes up along the ocean side on top of the cliffs. It is grassy pastures, occasionally with an actual path. It doesn't matter, it is a bit slower this way but it is grand to be riding up over the ocean this way, lots of dramatic views of cliffs and the ocean.
I come up to a herd of cattle who are milling around the gate. Not quite sure how to get through. I try my bell and they seem unmoved by that. Umm, excuse me cows, I'm going through that way. If you tap a few key ones, they slowly move off and the rest of them sort of follow. I get enough of them out of the way to get the gate open and through. Then they start mooing and making that high pitched sort of whine. I guess they thought I might feed them or something and were a bit disappointed.
The trail goes from road to paved path to rocky and puddly and back and forth between them all. But mostly it is a bit rocky and wet since a lot of it is access roads for the railroad tracks. A bit of indecision when I come to a branch in the road. It appears that the route 1 continues down the coast but another sign insists that it is a private road with access only to the beachcombers house. The map looks like it might just end up on the waters edge there, so I decide not to risk it and follow the road inland. I guess this is where I could have kept going and ignored the private road signs.
The trail kind of sucks here still, all the rain recently has made huge puddles to avoid, along with the large rocks and bumpy surface. I have to weave back and forth looking for the best bits of it. And I come to the most miserable rail crossing ever. As I was riding up, trains pass by going either direction, so I am somewhat sure there won't be another train for a little bit. But it has the most difficult gate(s) ever to open and close. Generally, you can hold onto your bike with one hand and open the gate with the other. But this one, the locking thing is incredibly hard to move. I have to prop my bike up, use both hands and really tug as hard as I can to get the stupid thing open and then closed too. I guess they want you to be really serious about using the crossing.
But Lindisfarne is in sight now. I go past what looks like the route 1 trail, a straight route from the direction I came that avoids all the stuff I had to go through. Oh well, too late now. Off to the causeway, I only have like 40 minutes to make sure I'm across before it floods. I guess I can kind of see how people would get caught there. It is a large mudflat, and absolutely flat at that.
The whole basin must fill up almost instantly. Apparently it can reach up to about three feet over the road surface. And I later hear that they have to rescue a couple of people a month who end up trying to drive across it just as the tide is coming in and they get caught in it. But for now, no water in sight and I made it safely across without incident.
I love the line of poles stuck in the water, it is such a cool image, of them disappearing into the water off in the distance. They are supposed to mark the safe route across the mud and sand.
So, on the island a bit before everybody else gets there. I guess I'll go and wander around the ruined priory for a while. Parts of it are fairly complete (wonder if they were reconstructed) and a whole lot of it is just bare foundations. My favorite part of it is what the years and weather have done to the sandstone. They make this cool ridgey holes, for some reason it reminds me of those Dante faces in hell pictures, or like Edvard Munch's the Scream.
So, having seen that, back into town and I see everybody start to assemble outside the cafe on the main road. The town is a bit funny, it was absolutely heaving over the last hour or so but then everybody quickly rushes away. Everybody in our group made it over just slightly before the tide came in and the island has emptied off in that time. So we are stuck there for about six more hours until the tide goes out. We head into the already fairly deserted cafe and order some food and drinks. As seems typical, they start locking up and bringing in the signs from outside as we are finishing up and when we leave, they shutter everything up. It looks like most of the rest of the shops and things in town are also closed. I guess most of them are only really open during low tide. That would be a funny schedule to base your business on.
I had been really keen to swim somewhere. I did on the west coast and I really wanted to get one in on the east coast. But the day is absolutely freezing. I didn't even want to unzip my jacket let alone strip down and jump in the freezing ocean. Hopefully a better opportunity will present itself. We leave our bikes in front of the cafe and head off to see the castle. The town is so deserted and well, where could anybody go, we leave all our bikes sitting there unlocked. It feels slightly freaky.
Those six hours are probably the longest my bike has ever remained unlocked except when it has been locked in my flat. Later that evening when I put it in the shed at the bunk barn, I lock it, even though it seems fairly secure there. I feel like there is some sort of lock karma that needs to be paid back, to put everything all back in balance.
So, the castle was ok. The setting is really cool, up on top of a high hilltop surrounded by ocean. It has been quite modernized though. Whoever owned it like 100 years ago ended up adding a lot of rooms and making it into more of a vacation cottage. I guess I like castles, I like standing on top of one and looking out and I even like kind of seeing how people have adapted to living in them, like what do you do with a home that would have been cold and damp and smelly. I never really know how to look around one. I mean they all kind of look the same inside, look, lots of old oak furniture, Chippendale or blah blah blah. Do you pretend that you are really interested that it is a old mirror from 1723 made by whoever or do you just kind of blow though it quickly.
The English Heritage volunteers were kind of the most interesting thing at the castle. They were all on these working holidays and mostly they make fun of all the idiots who try to drive over the causeway at high tide and have to be rescued by the RAF.
The walled garden is quite sweet too. It seems rather well designed and has a nice variety of things in it and it looks really nice there in the middle of this otherwise kind of barren setting.
So, we have lunch in one of the remaining open cafes in town and afterwards I go wandering off to see what else is on the island. Then I can't quite figure out where everybody else has gone so I continue to wander until I see Rob looking at his bike. The rest of the group had quite a challenge getting him across the causeway this morning, fighting the clock and having to stop a lot to keep pumping up his tire. The Puncture Fairy has taken his wheel and fixes it for him.
But the Puncture Fairy couldn't be completely omniscient because I think he/she would have remembered about my dynamo. A few days ago, on the rocky pass as I was trying to fix my flat front tire, I completely forgot about my dynamo and ripped out all the wiring as I took off the front wheel. Oh well, I guess I can do that now, figure out how it all goes back together, which I do and it is working again.
Once the tide is back out again, it is only a few miles to Belford where we are staying the night. I don't remember a whole lot from that ride there, about 10 miles or something. There was a cool flock of crows that swarmed as I was making my way up the last big hill into Belford.
We find the bunk barn, which I guess was slightly nicer than it sounds. The bathroom was an old shed but the rest of the house was pretty ok. The owner herds his ducks (raised from eggs) back into their area, or tries to, they don't seem to listen to him very well. Then the courtyard is taken over by another few really strange geese. I've never seen anything like them, white with red beaks and faces. They do a funny dance as they drink.
The kitchen is tiny and nobody seems motivated to cook so off to the chippy just around the corner. Really, I must learn, I really don't like fish and chips all that much. I did hopefully ask for chicken, which looked really nice, roasted and all, but they sold the very last one just before I ordered. Damn. So, greasy stomach, I feel slightly sick as I go to bed. First a quick drink at the pub and looking over the maps for tomorrow. 28.13 miles for the day. Plus probably 5-6 miles of walking around on the island.
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