Walk 112 -- Barton-upon-Humber, across the Humber bridge, to Hessle.

Ages: Colin was 63 years and 33 days. Rosemary was 60 years and 175 days.

Weather: Mostly sunny. A cool wind on the bridge.

Location: Barton-upon-Humber to Hessle Haven, via the Humber Bridge!

Distance: 3½ miles.

Total distance: 883½ miles.

Terrain: Mostly across the Humber Bridge.

Tide: Coming in.

Rivers: No.46, the Humber Estuary.

Ferries: None.

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: Nos.90 & 91, to get into and out of the Humber Bridge Country Park.

Pubs: ‘The Whalebone’ in a rather dodgy area of Hull. I had a nice cider, and Colin drank Diana Mild & Joe Allen Cooper. (We didn’t actually pass it on the Walk, but we went there in the morning after visiting ‘The Deep’.)

‘English Heritage’ properties: None.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We were camping at Barton-upon-Humber. We started the Walk in the campsite because that was where we ended it yesterday.

At the end, we turned round and retraced our steps. (So we walked across the bridge twice!) The next morning we packed up our camp and returned to Bognor.

We didn’t start today’s Walk until mid-afternoon due to a change of plan. This is what happened. We were very tired after yesterday’s Walk, and we woke to weather that was cloudy and cold—not very Summery. We fully intended to walk over the Humber Bridge and at least part of the way through Hull. We put the bikes on the back of the car and drove over the bridge. The traffic in Hull was diabolical, and we simply could not find anywhere to park. When Colin had driven thirteen miles and we still hadn’t found a car park, I called a halt saying that was too far. Colin suggested trying the car park of ‘The Deep’ which is a new aquarium claiming to be the biggest in Europe. Of course, we could only park there if we were going to buy a ticket to get inside—something we both rather fancied doing anyway.

So I suggested Plan B (or was it C?) We went into the aquarium — at pensioner’s prices — and spent the morning there. It was fascinating, I especially liked the huge rays and the pulsating jellyfish. Then we sought out one of Colin’s pubs — in a very dubious part of town — before driving back over the bridge to the campsite. We removed our bikes, which had stayed firmly strapped to the back of the car all the while, and sat in our tent eating our packed lunch.

By then the clouds had gone, the wind had dropped and the sun was out! We set off on foot from the campsite because that is where we finished yesterday’s Walk. We passed a house that had obviously had enough of ‘cold-callers’. A notice stuck to their letterbox read:—

OUR GAS IS WITH BRITISH GAS

ELECTRICITY IS WITH N-POWER

THAT IS WHERE THEY ARE STAYING

WHEN & IF WE DECIDE WE NEED

NEW WINDOWS, DOORS, KITCHENS

ETC WE WILL SORT IT OURSELVES

LASTLY WE DO NOT REQUIRE

RELIGIOUS CONVERSION

THANK YOU

So now you know! I can empathise with their feelings — these door-to-door salesmen are a real nuisance — but I did find this notice amusing.

Very soon we were on the Humber Bridge! It was only a stone’s-throw from the campsite, in fact we could hear the traffic all the time from our tent. I admired some poppies growing next to the pavement, and we came across a dissembled bike that had been carelessly left against the railings. As the road rose above the countryside we could see across to our campsite—except we couldn’t see our tent because it was behind a bush. We could see the towpath on the North Lincolnshire side snaking along beneath us. In fact it was very clear and we could see for miles!
‘Awesome’ is a much over-used word these days, but it did feel good walking high up on that magnificent bridge on such a beautiful day! We were glad that we had left it to the afternoon when the weather was better. It was quite a milestone on our trek, and over the other side we really did feel we had got to the ‘North’ because we were in Yorkshire. We were ‘Walking Tall’ all the way across! We took pictures of each other, and tried to set up the camera on the timer but that didn’t work. So we waited until someone cycled over, and asked him to take a picture of us together. I bet no one else has walked every inch of the way to there along the coast from Bognor!As we descended the other side we saw the road snaking underneath — the way we shall have to go towards Scotland. However, we had some difficulty finding our way down there. The road from the bridge stays high until it comes to a roundabout some distance away. We didn’t want to go that way, so we turned off on a kind of ‘helter-skelter’ road which went down underneath, but then it seemed to be going up again the other side. We were puzzled until we found an obscure path leading down through some woods. It wasn’t very clearly indicated, or perhaps we were just being unintelligent in our elation at crossing the Humber!
We went down through a wood — it was quite steep — and through a tunnel under a road to get to the waterfront. The area was called ‘The Humber Bridge Country Park’. We admired a wooden carving of an owl telling us there were nature trails, and a very odd looking seat which didn’t look at all comfortable. At the bottom there was an old windmill without any sails which looked as if it was now used as a house, and there were some mill-stones on the grass nearby. We walked under the bridge again, and asked a passerby to take a photo of us together with the bridge in the background. Looking at the bridge from underneath, it struck us what an amazing structure it is.

We passed a pair of attractive cottages which were obviously much older than the bridge. They are practically underneath it, and we wondered if the residents had received any compensation when their peace was shattered thirty-plus years ago by traffic whizzing past their roof day and night. Then we came to the beginning of the ‘Wolds Way’. This way-marked footpath goes all the way to Filey Brigg, wending its way across the Yorkshire Wolds. We shall also walk to Filey Brigg, but we will not be following much of the Wolds Way because it goes inland.

We came across our first bit of vandalism in Yorkshire, and we had hardly set foot in the county. A riverside seat had been completely burnt out — it didn’t augur well for our walk through Hull. We carried on a short way to Hessle Haven, a small inlet with a few old boats in it. The other side the factories started — it didn’t look good.

That ended Walk no.112, we shall pick up Walk no.113 next time at Hessle Haven. We sat on a wall to eat our chocolate before returning the way we had come — across the Humber Bridge and back to our campsite. The next day we packed up and returned to Bognor.

Walk 111 -- North Killingholme Haven to Barton-upon-Humber

Ages: Colin was 63 years and 32 days. Rosemary was 60 years and 174 days.
Weather: High cloud with a pleasant breeze. Then it turned too hot and sunny.
Location: North Killingholme Haven to Barton-upon-Humber.
Distance: 12 miles.
Total distance: 880 miles.
Terrain: Concrete sea wall which turned into a grassy one. Flat.
Tide: Going out.
Rivers: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: None.

Pubs: The Wheatsheaf Hotel in Barton-upon-Humber which we visited the day before—our ‘rest’ day. We drank Hydes ‘Elevation’ and Theakston Mild, but better than that, we enjoyed a ‘pensioner’s lunch’ for only £3.25 each! A huge plateful of anything off the menu, and a pot of tea to finish off!

‘English Heritage’ properties: No.32, Thornton Abbey (which we didn’t have to visit as it is more than a mile inland, but we did because we passed it on our cycle ride). No.33, St Peter’s church in Barton-upon-Humber—which was open on our ‘rest’ day but the Saxon tower was completely obscured by scaffolding!

Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: No.30, right at the end of the Walk—because of sea defence works.

How we got there and back: We were camping at Barton-upon-Humber. We cycled from the campsite to North Killingholme Haven where we padlocked our bikes to a fence exactly where we had parked the car last time.

At the end, we walked into the campsite and sat down in our tent! After a rest and a cup of tea, I cooked the supper while Colin drove off to collect the bikes.

We started today’s Walk at the jetty in North Killingholme Haven. Two ships were in, and new cars were being unloaded from one of them. The public footpath crosses the road leading from the jetty to the compounds where the cars are kept, and we had to wait ages before it was safe to get over. If you have ever bought a new car imported from abroad and you thought the engine had only been tested under carefully controlled conditions, think again! Those cars were being driven off that ship, on and off ramps, at speed with the roaring of engines and the screeching of brakes—car after car after car. The road is little better than a gravel track, and we could detect no care whatsoever being taken of those brand new engines. We can’t say how long the cars are then parked—open to the elements on the North Sea coast and added to that there is the pollution of all the heavy industry in the area—but there are hundreds of them parked in neat rows. When you think that each car transporter takes a mere six or eight cars at most, no matter how fast they load them up to take them off the average time each car sits rusting away in a compound must be weeks. The next jetty was derelict, we wondered how long ago that was in use.

We walked about a mile past even more heavy industry, including yet another huge compound of brand new cars. There were notices on the fence which read:—

RESTRICTED AREA

PASS HOLDERS ONLY

ENTRY INTO THIS AREA

WITHOUT AUTHORISATION

WILL RENDER YOU

LIABLE TO PROSECUTION

AVIATION AND MARITIME SECURITY ACT 1990

MERCHANT SHIPPING AND MARITIME SECURITY ACT 1997

Fair enough—except that one of these notices was on an unlocked gate with a ‘PUBLIC FOOTPATH’ signpost above it pointing through the gate! Fortunately it was not the way we needed to go, so we didn’t have to test it out.

The industry, and compounds of new cars, suddenly stopped and the Walk became blissfully rural for the first time since we entered the Humber Estuary. There we came across two elderly couples (well, they were about our age) who had managed to find a route to drive their car up on to the concrete walkway and were sitting in the sun overlooking the estuary! “It’s beautiful here!” they told us. “We love this spot, and often come here to watch everything going on!” I looked over the wall to see what was ‘going on’ and failed to find it—only the car ships back at North Killingholme, and factory chimneys as far as the eye could see including the other side of the estuary. It transpired these people came from Hull—perhaps that explains it! (We are not looking forward to walking through Hull.)

We chatted to them cheerfully for a few minutes, then walked on to East Halton Skitter—which, to our minds, was a lot more pleasant. We thought we were in the countryside, but there was a lot of evidence that things were not as rural as they seemed. We passed some derelict buildings that could have been kilns, with a tall thin chimney at the end of them. On the side of the chimney the letters W x H were vertically picked out in white bricks. All was overgrown, but we did wonder what it had been, and about the safety of the chimney! We looked across the estuary and all we could see were cranes and smoky chimneys, not very encouraging.

Further on we passed some very modern notices on the edges of fields telling us that we were crossing gas mains. We think the notices were really for the local farmers, warning them not to plough too deep, but still we found them inhibiting. We were amused by graffiti on a concrete box that was next to a fenced off area with pipes disappearing into the ground, old tyres and what looked like a miniature electricity sub-station — it read, “BEWEr NIGGAS About”!! We thought the author(s) of this missive had more of a problem with their spelling than with their racial prejudice.

At East Halton Skitter we sat down and ate the first part of our lunch. The concrete ran out there, and we had to go down a slope to cross a bridge over an inlet. The path from there on was grass, but it was quite short and walkable. We didn’t meet a soul.
We saw a lot of birds, for which the Humber Estuary is famed—a reed bunting, skylarks, swallows, chaffinches, starlings, crows, swans, curlews, oystercatchers, shelducks, mallards, tufted ducks, coots, a heron, peewits a blackbird and a thrush. We also saw rabbits and several kinds of butterflies.
When we reached the ‘corner’—where the Humber turns westwards—we sat down to eat the rest of our lunch. We thought we were in the countryside, but we could hear the ‘hum’ of industry from across the water. We were directly opposite the ferry-port terminal, and watched a P&O ship start its journey to Scandinavia.
The breeze dropped and it got very hot and sultry. Too hot, in fact, and it didn’t make for pleasant walking. We could see the Humber Bridge in the distance, but as we walked on miles it didn’t seem to get any nearer. We passed derelict ships and derelict buildings which had been taken over by birds, it seemed. Then we came to another jetty surrounded by an industrial area. The public footpath went through the middle of it all, according to the map, but the way wasn’t very clear on the ground. We followed painted footsteps, but they were a bit inconsistent and we got lost a couple of times. We couldn’t find our way back to the river bank and had walked too far on the road leading out of the place. So we turned round, and then Colin saw a signpost pointing to a path leading behind some high fencing. We no longer felt we were in the countryside.

On regaining the river bank we had wonderful views of the Humber Bridge, a magnificent piece of engineering! About a mile further on we had to walk through a timber yard and cross a bridge over an inlet alongside a railway, and again the way—all public footpath—wasn’t very clear. Just as we thought we would collapse with heat exhaustion, clouds came over and afforded us welcome relief from the sun. We passed some flooded clay-pits which were being used by the local water-fowl and by water-skiers for their entertainment.
All the time the Humber Bridge was (at last!) getting nearer, and the sheer size of it made us feel quite small. We had a short rest on a wooden bench erected to celebrate the Queen’s Golden Jubilee in 2002. (Thank you, Queenie!) We passed some yards where roof-tiles were stacked up, a very traditional industry in these parts we believe.

As we approached Barton-upon-Humber, we were diverted off the river bank because of flood defence works. We were, by then, so close to the Humber Bridge that we could see the traffic crossing over it. We watched with amusement a tractor phutting over with a whole stream of cars held up behind it! Again our way was not clear, and we went completely wrong. A new park was being constructed but it was far from finished. We knew where we wanted to end up, but not how to get there. In the end we pushed through bushes, over ‘gardens’ and up slopes. Then we discovered, to our delight, that a brand new footbridge had been built over the tidal inlet which leads into Barton. It wasn’t marked on the map, and it saved us half a mile of walking. There were a lot of boats in the inlet, but the tide was out so they looked a bit stranded. We walked along the road to the gates of our campsite.
That ended Walk no.111, we shall pick up Walk no.112 next time at the campsite in Barton-upon-Humber. We went to our tent and ate our chocolate whilst we made a pot of tea. We had originally planned to continue our Walk over the Bridge into Yorkshire today, but once we had sat down and relaxed a little we soon abandoned that idea! I prepared some supper while Colin drove back to North Killingholme Haven to collect the bikes. He was so hungry that when he passed a chip shop he succumbed to temptation — they nicely supplemented the meal which was only stuff out of tins (cooking is very limited when you have no fridge, freezer, oven, grill or microwave, and you’re knackered anyway!)

Thornton Abbey

Thornton Abbey, built between 1282 and 1308, was one of the wealthiest Augustinian monasteries in England at that time. Very little of it remains, only the ruins of the octagonal chapter house really. It was in there that Colin found a swallow’s nest in the roof. He had watched two swallows flying in and out of the ruins, so he went inside and looked up. Tucked in the corner of the ceiling was the nest, so he made a squeaking noise and four gaping beaks appeared over the lip of the nest! He took a few photographs, then we left them in peace. Only the foundations of the church remain, and we got the impression that it was absolutely huge!

Sometime after the Peasants’ Revolt of 1381, an enormous and ornate gatehouse was built at Thornton Abbey. It is an early example of a brick building. Most of this remains today, including part of the original wooden gate. It is thought that the gatehouse was used to store the Abbey’s treasures, and it could also have been used as lodgings for the Abbot and his guests. We were fascinated by the faces depicted in the stonework laced across the ceilings. We are sure they were real people, and we wondered who they were and what their role was in the Abbey. They are like medieval photographs! What wicked people were chosen to represent the gargoyles with their tongues out to dispel the devil?

St Peter’s Church

St Peter’s Church in Barton-upon-Humber is one of the most studied English churches. It is important because it has a complete Anglo-Saxon tower—a very unusual feature. Unfortunately when we visited, the tower was wholly hidden by scaffolding!! There was no point in photographing it from the outside, I could only do so from the inside which wasn’t much good. The church has been taken over by English Heritage because it is a ‘redundant’ church of great historical significance. It didn’t feel at all like a church when we went in—more like a museum. It seems to have lost its soul.

Unfortunately the warden (a local lady paid to unlock the church at certain times and keep an eye on it while it was open) didn’t know much about it. I was puzzled about a plaque in the floor which said it was on the site of the Saxon altar, yet it was situated at the western end of the church. (This lady didn’t even know that all Christian churches have their altars at the eastern end!) I walked in and out of the tower several times, then I went over to the exhibition to look at some plans of what the church looked like at various times in history. Suddenly it struck me—the Saxon church was just the tower, nothing else, and must have been very small—tall, but small in length and breadth. The rest of the present-day church, and that is most of it, was built on the eastern side of the original mostly during medieval times. The altar plaque was on the eastern side of the tower space, but the western end of the medieval church which was built later. They must have moved the altar when they built on—that explained it. When I described my ‘enlightenment’ to the warden, she wasn’t very interested or impressed—she just seemed bored with the whole thing.

The rest of the church is very plain for a medieval church, and we didn’t find much of interest. We read later that there are some carvings of the pagan ‘Green Men’—which I always think is very interesting to find in Christian churches! But I think we were so disappointed about the state of the tower we just walked away and went looking for the pub.

Julian’s Bower

Our eldest son, Paul, married a girl from the village of Alkborough in 2002. We have several times visited the village, which is about ten miles from Barton-upon-Humber, and Paul and Caroline were married in the medieval village church. Alkborough is not on the ‘Round-Britain-Walk’ route, but would have been if we’d embarked on this mad scheme before the Humber Bridge was constructed. On our ‘rest’ day we visited Caroline’s parents in the village because we were in the neighbourhood. I have included it in this journal because Alkborough has a unique feature—an ancient turf maze!It is called ‘Julian’s Bower’, and this is what the plaque at the site says about it:—

MAZES ARE ASSOCIATED WITH THE LEGEND OF THESIUS, THREADING THE CRETAN LABYRINTH TO SLAY THE MINOTAUR – A COMMON THEME IN ANCIENT LIFE. TURF MAZES OFTEN BORE THE NAME OF “JULIAN’S BOWER” OR “WALLS OF TROY”. IT IS SUPPOSED THAT THESE NAMES RECORD THE BELIEF THAT JULIUS, SON OF AENEAS—LEGENDARY FOUNDER OF ROME—BROUGHT MAZE GAMES TO ITALY FROM TROY AFTER ITS SACKING BY THE GREEKS.

MAZE PATTERNS WERE ADOPTED BY THE EARLY CHURCH AS A SYMBOL OF THE CHRISTIAN PATH TO SALVATION AND MAY HAVE BEEN USED FOR PENITENTIAL PURPOSES. BECAUSE OF ITS LIKENESS TO A MAZE PATTERN IN MEDIEVAL FRENCH CHURCHES, IT HAS BEEN SUGGESTED THAT JULIAN’S BOWER WAS FIRST CUT BY MONKS FROM WALCOT. IN ELIZABETHAN AND STUART TIMES, TURF MAZES WERE USED FOR SPORT ON THE VILLAGE GREEN AND HEDGE MAZES WERE A COMMON FEATURE IN GARDENS. JULIAN’S BOWER, WHICH IS ONE OF THE FEW REMAINING TURF MAZES IN BRITAIN, WAS FIRST RECORDED IN 1697 WHEN IT WAS THOUGHT TO BE ROMAN, BUT ITS REAL AGE AND ORIGIN STILL REMAIN UNPROVEN.

It is not actually a maze, but a single line from the entrance to the middle. The pattern is exactly the same as a pattern in coloured tiles on the floor of Chartres Cathedral in France. Every year, on the longest day (June 21st) the furniture is pulled aside in Chartres Cathedral to reveal the ‘maze’. People come from all over the world to ‘walk’ it, but few of them could tell you why they do it. It is supposed to represent the twists and turns of life. Every bit is walked—there are no cut-off lines or dead-ends—and you cannot get lost. You will always end up at your goal—the middle.

It takes a good five minutes, at a brisk pace, to walk the maze at Alkborough—I tried it! Caroline once told me that the local people believe it predates the Romans, and has something to do with ‘witches’. They treasure it, and really look after it. In Victorian times it got into such a state they decided it needed recutting. So they made a copy of the pattern in the floor of the church porch before they dug it up, just to make sure they got it exactly right when they put it back. That pattern is still there.

Personally I believe it is a pagan artefact and is very very ancient—perhaps going back to ‘Earth’ ‘Fire’ ‘Air’ and ‘Water’. That would explain the local legend of ‘witches’. I do not think it coincidence that Julian’s Bower is situated at the top of a ‘cliff’ with sweeping views across what is now the floodplain of the Humber and the confluence of the rivers Trent and Ouse. In recent years there has been serious flooding further up the Ouse in the city of York. Now the plan is to breach the dykes and allow water to flood the acres below Alkborough once more. This would alleviate the flood danger in York, and provide much needed wetlands for wildlife to flourish.Isn’t Nature what Paganism is all about? It was only the Christian Church that demonised it!

Intriguing, isn't it?

Walk 110 -- Pyewipe , via Immingham, to North Killingholme Haven

Ages: Colin was 63 years and 30 days. Rosemary was 60 years and 172 days.

Weather: Hot and sunny with a cool breeze.

Location: Pyewipe to North Killingholme Haven, via Immingham.

Distance: 10½ miles.

Total distance: 868 miles.

Terrain: Concrete sea walls and the verges of busy roads. Flat.

Tide: Going out.

Rivers: None.

Ferries: None.

Piers: None.

Kissing gates: None.

Pubs: None.

‘English Heritage’ properties: None.

Ferris wheels: None.

Diversions: None.

How we got there and back: We were camping at Barton-upon-Humber. We drove, with bikes on the back of the car, to North Killingholme Haven where, with no argument at all, we parked just off the road leading to the jetty with heavy lorries rumbling past every minute or so. Then we cycled our Walk in reverse, all the way to the edge of the Pyewipe industrial estate at Great Coates. At one point we missed the footpath, and ended up coming out of a gateway which threatened us with extermination should we even think of trespassing on their land—lots of workmen had seen us pedalling by and not one had taken any notice of us!

At the end, we had a cup of tea. Then we drove round by road to collect our bikes—and back to our campsite along main roads because it was quicker.

By the time we arrived at our starting point and had locked up the bikes, we were so hungry we sat amongst the daisies on the corner of this huge industrial estate and ate our pork pies. Then we walked along a road with humps to the waterfront. We were passed by several cyclists travelling in each direction, we think the locals use the waterfront route for getting about in preference to the local lanes which are full of heavy lorries rushing along at speed. We mused about the fact that we could easily have parked along the humpy road yesterday—it was wide enough and would have meant we didn’t have to walk out of our way.Today’s Walk was all heavy industry. We knew it would be bad after looking at the map, so we decided to be positive and look out for wildlife along the way. We saw some lovely flowers (weeds?), and on the mudflats of the Humber Estuary we saw oystercatchers, shelducks, gulls, a moorhen, a coot and a heron. We also spied lots of colourful burnet moths, swallows, a goldfinch, a linnet, curlews, rabbits, a crow (which I managed to photograph), a magpie, a lapwing and starlings. At the very end of the Walk we saw a swan, but the picture I took of it was so out of focus I dumped it. We went into ecstasies when a hairy caterpillar crossed our path (we were only kidding ourselves) but I must add that we also saw a rat!

In fact today’s Walk was horrible! It was mostly along a concrete sea wall past factories with gruesome warning notices. I mean, if we had seen flashing lights and heard wailing sirens, where would we have gone? Certainly not over the fence into the factory complex, nor over the seawall on to the mudflats where we would have surely drowned in the quicksands. We could only have continued along the narrow path we were on or go back the way we had come—fortunately we didn’t have to make the decision! We didn’t like the colour of the smoke we could see emanating from factory chimneys, and some of the smells we experienced were noxious to say the least. We moved on quickly. We could see the other side of the estuary more clearly today, but it didn’t exactly fill us with inspiration. Flat and featureless were words that came to mind.

We passed a group of young people out with a dog on a long lead. By the way they were dressed we guessed they were on a lunch-break from one of the factories, but the presence of the dog puzzled us. It wasn’t very well behaved and tried to wrap itself round our feet. We passed a man standing next to his car (how did he get it on to the waterfront?) observing ships in the Humber through binoculars. We wondered whether he was a Customs’ Officer.

As we approached Immingham Dock, we knew we would have to go inland for a few miles to skirt round it. The path leading from the waterfront to the road went through a blissful strip of woodland! It was only about two hundred yards long and very narrow, but it was an absolute haven compared with the rest of the Walk. We chatted to a man with a bike before we entered the trees, then sat in the cool shade of the wood to eat our ‘real’ lunch. We had cycled through this wood earlier in the day, and noted that someone had been along with a strimmer in the meantime and cut the grass along the path.

We came out in the road, and immediately were assailed by lorries proceeding at speed between all the various ‘works’ we had been passing—we had come out of heaven into hell! Round the corner was a rickety temporary bridge over the railway which was a real bone-shaker every time a lorry went over. It was a kind of bailey bridge which had been placed over the top of the original broken bridge. We were rather amused because a white van fluffed the traffic lights which controlled the bridge, and it had to wait nearly ten minutes even though no traffic came the other way for most of that time. I was just admiring the wild roses that were growing profusely all over the broken part of the bridge, giggling quietly to myself about the impatience of the driver.
Round another corner we came upon a most extraordinary row of houses. They were painted in the most garish of colours—pink, purple and bright yellow being predominant—and were situated alongside a busy road overlooked by enormous heavy industry-type buildings behind a high-wire fence topped with razor wire. It would be the most appalling place to have to live, yet these houses were ‘to let’ for ‘£15 to £50 per week’! That seemed amazingly cheap, we wondered what you get for your £15!

The next three miles were pure grot—the grass verge alongside the main A180 transport road, between Immingham Dock and various oil refineries. Not the kind of area we would normally choose for a country walk! We just put our heads down and got on with it, and eventually we were able to turn off on to the A160 and go under a railway bridge. Immediately we were able to turn off that into what we had hoped would be a quieter road—we were a bit fed up with the noise and the fumes—but still the lorries thundered past. Soon we did turn off again into a quieter lane which led us over a small level crossing.

When we had cycled the route in reverse earlier in the day we had got a bit confused over the right-of-way and ended up coming through a gate by the level crossing which threatened us with all sorts of penalties if we trespassed. We had passed numerous workmen whilst trying to find our way, and no one had even noticed our presence! Now we were walking, I wanted to find out exactly where the right-of-way went—and discovered it went alongside the very road we had cycled along so illegally! We knew the path turned left very soon, but we weren’t sure where. We followed a path we thought was the correct one which went alongside some pipes snaking their way across the wasteland. We thought we wouldn’t be able to get over the high fence on to the waterfront, but then we found a ladder-stile behind some weeds.

Back by the side of the Humber, now on the northern side of Immingham Dock, we celebrated overcoming the horridest part of the Walk by eating our chocolate! Then we continued, passing two lighthouses blinking their lights. A third lighthouse, a little further on, had been turned into a house. Outside was the biggest collection of old rubbish I have ever seen in my life—it beat Colin’s clutter into a cocked hat! It was mostly redundant vehicles which hadn’t been moved for years, hence the flat tyres. I moved Colin on quickly before he found ‘something which might come in useful someday’!

We reached Killingholme Marshes, but marshes they are not! The whole area is a huge car park for imported new cars, row upon row upon row of them! Transporter lorries were loading up all the time and taking them off, but it didn’t seem to make any impression on the rows of gleaming metal. Why were they there? Well, there were a number of ships at the end of the jetty, so we assumed that this remote spot on the Humber is where many of our new cars enter the country.

We were mildly amused by the ‘no shooting’ notice on the Humber side of the path, and on the other side, past the new cars, was a small pond with a swan in it. (That is where my photo went blurry!) We couldn’t believe they were importing coal dust at North Killingholme Haven, but it did look as if that was the stuff they were unloading from a ship. We walked as far as the road leading to the jetty, where our car was parked.

That ended Walk no.110, we shall pick up Walk no.111 next time at North Killingholme Haven. We had a cup of tea from our flasks in the car, then drove round to Pyewipe to pick up the bikes. We used the main road again to return to the campsite—further but quicker.