The Nothumberland Coast: Warkworth, Amble, Craster, etc.

With our eyes on the forecast, we cautiously, optimistically hoped for the best. And because pandemics are brutal, England played nice this time around, giving us its (mostly) best. 

On days 3-6 we chose different versions of similar walking adventures starting with an amble to the village of Amble. 

This was not without its dramas. After not finding a trail, we found ourselves stumbling down the side of a winding B road with very little hard shoulder to dodge quick-moving cars. We were briefly stopped by the police who decided to yell at us instead of pointing us in the direction of a trail head. This is how we found ourselves playing limbo with a barbed wire fence; post, near skewering ourselves and getting lost in a bramble-filled path we finally made our way to another beautiful, nearly-empty beach. 

The sun was shining and Frank was free to roam lead-free.

Armed with our google maps, Dawn and I pointed ourselves towards the harbourside town, walking the beach for ages in search of lunch at the end. But the sun was in our eyes and we managed to overlook the massive estuary separating our beach with Amble town. And so, we walked and walked, the town getting closer and closer. Only when we'd made it to the mouth of the estuary, 1.2 miles past the closest turnoff, did we notice there was no bridge, no way of fording the fast-moving waters at high tide. 

Frank sighed, loudly. I swear this. 

And so we trekked back up the beach 1.2 miles to the path's start. From there, our journey took us another 1 mile into the ancient town of Warkworth where we promptly fell upon the first pub with an available table. It may have been my hunger but the Warkworth Arms is home to the best fish and chips I've ever had. 

Dawn and I learned our lesson and gave up on attempting the on-foot journey to Amble. We took to the bus and were greeted with a small, cute town on the sea. It was hardly worth the 5-hour thwarted walk but it was also a nice place to while away a few hours. 

Berwick upon Tweed 

The next day, we woke to a rainy forecast, our only one of the week. We hopped the train up to Berwick upon Tweed, England's northernmost town. The city's history, of fights with Scotland, of land disputes, makes the town quite atmospheric. There's a castle and city walls and a big, big bridge. But it was raining, grey and miserable and so between running between historic sites, eating a big English breakfast, a beautiful lunch and the odd pint, we didn't see much. This photo sums it up pretty nicely. 

Craster to Low Newton-by-the-Sea

The weather returned to beautiful the next day. And so for our last big adventure, we took the bus (only people on said bus) up towards the dog-friendly National Trust Dunstaburgh Castle. On the way, our single decker transportation wound us through another seriously beautiful part of the region. We stopped in the village of Craster, a fishing village famous for its smoked kippers. 

From there, the castle was another 1.3 mile walk up the coast built on a remote headland for the express purpose of being a lookout/fortress/imposing structure.

Work started on castle in 1313 but its owner, Earl Thomas of Lancaster was executed in 1322 before he could ever see the fruits of his labour. The castle later featured in the War of the Roses and was besieged before it fell into disrepair. To me, that made it all the more beautiful. 

We wound our way down to the other side of the castle, onto Embleton Beach. With views of the castle in the background, we continued our journey another 4.8 miles, Frank occasionally having a sniff of passing dogs or chasing seabirds. 

In all honesty, we were chasing the myth of a magical pub in the village of Low Newton-by-the-Sea. And although the indoor section was closed, the Ship Inn did not disappoint.

There, we discovered where all the people were. Cute seaside cottages dotted the outdoor grassy courtyard, people sat lounging on their beach blankets and lunch options were plentiful. We enjoyed a glass of white wine looking to the sea while Frank passed out on the grass. 

It was another moment of pure bliss and after four months of lockdown madness, it was the perfect antidote to our melancholy. Perhaps it was this melancholy that made Northumberland so magical, although I think it had a lot more to do with the beauty of the place and its relative peace and quiet. Having a beautiful beach to yourself is pretty dazzling, having a local bus to get there makes it even better. 

Four hands and four paws enthusiastic up in excitement for the magic of Northumberland. 

The Northumberland Coast: Alnmouth and Alnwick

Grounded by an ongoing contagion and with an 8-week summer holiday looming, the prospect of continuing to look at the same four walls felt quite bleak. The city was 'opening up' again but that reality was far more sobering than it sounded--restrictions, social distancing, reduced numbers. 

Enter Dawn, my friend turned planner extraordinaire. As opposed to the wallowing I was doing, she turned her hand to researching in-country countryside adventures. Shortly thereafter we were in possession of a two-room sausage dog friendly cottage with a garden, train tickets and a grocery delivery straight to the front door. 

The ensuing adventure did not disappoint. We rocked up to King's Cross Station to hop a nearly-empty train northward up to the town of Alnmouth, a picturesque seaside village on the Northumberland coast.

Northumberland is a bit of a hidden gem--the region bumps up against the Scottish border on the East side of the country. If you've ever taken the train up to Edinburgh and whooshed past stunning white sand beaches and golf courses, you've seen this beautiful part of the world already. 

Our cottage was nothing fancy. Just a short walk up a hill from the train station, it had a garden for Frank, a teeny galley kitchen and the Most Stunning view of the hills on one side and the sea on the other. I cannot explain the feeling of a long-distance seaside view after months locked up in London. I was giddy and stunned and, if only briefly, completely, perfectly happy. 

Dawn, Frank and I took to our surroundings, using the local bus network to our advantage. We seemed to be the only ones who did; the bus was practically empty--everyone took social distancing to new levels in this seaside haven. 

On our first day, we familiarised ourselves with the Almouth environs, taking an 8km loop from our cottage to the tiny little town 'centre' and beach. We were delighted.

Alnmouth Beach

Countryside Walk 

Somewhere mid-walk we stumbled upon the budding project of the Aln Valley railway, a steam train revival that had been paused due to Covid. 

The pubs around town were in various stages of open. Some only served people outside under elaborate tents and umbrellas, others were completely closed. Regardless, they all had that charm that most London pubs lack.

We managed to circle ourselves back to the outer edges of Alnmouth Beach late in the afternoon. Frank was living his absolute best life. 

But so was I.

Alnwick 

The town of Alnwick (pronounced Annick because, England) was a short bus ride away. It's the largest 'town' in southern Northumberland and home to a few gems of Britishness. Barter Books, England's largest used book store, lies on the outskirts of town occupying the old Alnwick Rail Station hall. The train stopped running there in 1968 due to changing travel fashions. 

The bookstore uses the space well: 

You can even sit in the old station room for coffee, cake and a seat next to the fireplace. 

A 5-minute walk from there takes you into Alnwick proper. The town centre has some serious Edinburgh vibes. The stones, architecture and scenery all mimic its neighbour to the north. It's a cute place to whittle away a few hours--here you can find cafes, cutes boutiques and cake slices the size of your head. 

And just around the corner from town centre, majestic Alnwick Castle sits nestled between river and hills. Look closely, this should be familiar. 

The castle was closed for visitors due to Covid but that didn't stop people from wearing their Harry Potter scarves, waving their Harry Potter wands and stopping by shops selling butter beer. It transpires that the castle has been a prime filming location for the first two Harry Potter films, Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves and Downton Abbey, to name a few. 

From every angle, it was pretty impressive. 

And so. We hopped back on a bus to our little cottage in order to cook dinner, drink wine and watch bad TV. Living the post-lockdown-but-still-covid dream.