Walk 132 -- Saltburn-by-the-Sea, via Redcar, to Middlesbrough

Ages: Colin was 64 years and 13 days. Rosemary was 61 years and 155 days.
Weather: Sunny at first, then clouding over. From lunchtime onwards it was persistent rain — yuk!
Location: Saltburn-by-the-Sea to Middlesbrough, via Redcar.
Distance: 15½ miles.
Total distance: 1056½ miles.
Terrain: Crumbling clifftop paths, concrete proms, dunes, roads, tracks and a lot of main roads — with pavements thank goodness.
Tide: In, going out.
Rivers: None.
Ferries: None.
Piers: No.26, Saltburn-by-the-Sea.
Kissing gates: None.
Pubs: None. (Unless you count ‘The Cross Keys’ near Guisborough which we visited two days later after we had abandoned Walk no.133 because of the weather. We drank Prior’s Ale, Ruby Ale, Flying Herbert and Dizzy Dick, all by North Yorkshire.)
‘English Heritage’ properties: No.38, Gisborough Priory. We didn’t have to visit it, but we did on a dull and drippy day earlier in the week because we didn’t know what else to do with ourselves.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: No.37 between Redcar and Middlesbrough. The footpath had been closed only six days earlier, and would remain closed for the next six months so that work to prevent flooding could take place. The only alternative was along the main road for several miles — yuk! yuk!
How we got there and back: We were camping in Hinderwell. We didn’t want to park our car in Middlesbrough because of its reputation for vandalism. I had looked at lots of bus timetables, and found there is no direct bus route from Middlesbrough to Saltburn. So I had planned to park in Skelton, catch a bus to Saltburn, and at the end catch a bus back from Middlesbrough to Skelton. Soon after 9am (very early!) we were waiting for the Saltburn bus in Skelton. It didn’t turn up! An elderly lady was waiting for the same bus, and getting very anxious because she was organist at a little Mormon church in Redcar. As time went on she became more and more agitated, so Colin collected the car and we gave her a lift to her church, arriving ten minutes before the service was due to start. She kept saying, “I can’t really believe this!” and practically danced out of the car with a hop, skip and jump when we arrived! We then drove to Saltburn and parked at the top of the cliff lift again.
At the end we caught a train from Middlesbrough to Saltburn. (Colin thought of that, I had forgotten all about the trains — and it was much cheaper, too, because we had our Senior railcards!) Then we drove straight to ‘The Ship’ in Port Mulgrave because the landlady had saved two roast beef dinners for us. Colin drank ‘Spitfire’ and I drank wine — a merlot. After that it was just a short drive back to the campsite.

Gisborough Priory

An Augustinian Priory founded by the Bruce family, afterwards kings of Scotland. There is not much of it left, just the fourteenth century east end which looked quite dramatic in the murk. In an adjacent field is a dovecot, but we didn’t know how old that was, and we couldn’t get to it.
After the fiasco of the bus not turning up, we actually managed to start the Walk in good time — our only problem being that we were walking away from the car instead of towards it. The cliff lift was working this morning, but we didn’t use it because it was downhill to the beach and we weren’t tired.The toilets at the bottom were closed, which was a bit of an inconvenience as we had to walk a quarter of a mile in the wrong direction to find some that were open. (Some of these Council officers ought to suffer from Colin’s problem, then perhaps they would understand how important it is to have toilets open in built-up areas where there are no convenient bushes or rocks to hide behind!)There were crowds of people enjoying the seafront on this bright and sunny Sunday morning. The atmosphere was quite jolly! There were a number of surfers in the sea enjoying the waves. All were wearing wetsuits — I bet the water was perishing!
We walked along the newly refurbished pier — apparently the most northerly in England. If Scotland doesn’t have any piers — and I don’t think the Victorians built them up there — then it is going to be a very long time before we walk another one. We were lucky we were able to walk this one, for it has only recently been reopened after restoration. A notice told us the history:
1869 – PIER COMPLETED, A VICTORIAN MARVEL 1500FT OUT INTO THE SEA
1875 – PIER HEAD WASHED AWAY, REBUILT AT 1280FT
1900 – STORM DAMAGE, PIER SHORTENED
1924 – ‘OVENBEG’ BROKE UP ON PIER AND TORE AWAY CENTRAL SECTION, WHICH WAS REBUILT
1939 – CENTRAL SECTION CUT OUT BY ROYAL ENGINEERS TO FOIL THREAT OF INVASION
1953 – GALES TWISTED MAIN STRUCTURE, REBUILT 1956-59
1961 – STORM DAMAGE TO 20 PILES REPAIRED
1973 – CORROSION AND DAMAGE FORCED PIER TO BE CLOSED
1974 – OCTOBER STORM WASHED AWAY PIER HEAD BEFORE IT COULD BE REPAIRED
1975 – PIER TO BE DEMOLISHED
1975 – SAVE THE PIER CAMPAIGN EVENTUALLY SUCCESSFUL
1978 – SHORTENED PIER, 681FT, OPENED TO PUBLIC AGAIN
1996 – PIER ONCE AGAIN IN IMMINENT DANGER OF COLLAPSE
1999 – PIER RESTORATION FUNDING RAISED
We visited Saltburn in 1994 on our way to Scotland, and we thought it a rather run-down place back then. I don’t remember the pier particularly, but I do remember everything looked tatty, gone to seed. This time, however, the seafront looked bright and cheerful as if it had recently been given a fresh coat of paint. Some of the gardens were still fenced off because they are currently being ‘refurbished’ so the work hasn’t finished yet. Well done, Saltburn-by-the-Sea! It is now a very pleasant seaside town.
At the end of the prom we climbed up on to some low sandy ‘cliffs’ because the beach sand looked soft and the tide was in. Lovely flowers up there, and sweeping views, but it wasn’t easy walking because it was eroded, muddy, and everywhere there were flies! There were clouds of them, we seemed to be breathing them in and out. It was horrible! (If you think I have left spots on any of the photos, think again. That is the flies!) We soon came to a deep cleft which was difficult to get down. After we had successfully descended, we decided to try the beach again — but it was too soft to walk comfortably. At Marske we climbed up on to very low cliffs and found a hole out of the wind where we stopped to eat our pasties.
We were soon on tarmac and concrete — the outskirts of Redcar. This is much more of a “Kiss-me-quick” type of resort. There was the familiar smell of greasy fish’n’chips, and obese families sitting out eating same. We passed a roundabout sculpture, ‘Las Vegas’, an information point completely devoid of information, and a theatre advertising for ‘females for a horror movie’! There was a funfair (no Ferris wheel!) with a bouncing cradle that seemed to be a safer version of bungy jumping that adolescents could take part in.On the plus side, there were some fantastic railings — first of all with silhouettes of Laurel and Hardy, then colourful pictures of nursery rhymes and seaside scenes. I loved them!Then we came across a group of penguins on the prom — it was quite like Antarctica (I don’t think)! It was all very jolly, and we thought it was great!
We got to the end of the prom and it started to rain. We both donned our capes, and before it got too bad we huddled behind a wall to eat our sandwiches. We looked out towards the Gare from which families were returning in their droves because it is rather a nice beach out there, but now the rain was getting heavier by the minute. A notice nearby told us about it:
The mouth of the River Tees was a death trap for ships, and during one violent storm in 1861 over fifty ships were lost on to a sandbank called the Bar. Following this disaster the authorities and local industrialists decided to build the breakwater called the South Gare to provide a safe harbour.
The Gare is 2½ miles long and was constructed from waste, known as slag, from blast furnaces producing iron and steel. The South Gare was completed and opened in 1888. The whole structure is a marvel of engineering skill and to this day it still protects shipping. The construction of the breakwater saved valuable cargos and also many lives.
Whilst the Victorians altered nature, the area is still an important haven for wildlife with the seashore and dunes providing refuge for nationally important habitats and species.
We looked out into the grey that was the Gare, the streams of families returning hurriedly to their cars, felt the rain on our capes and made a decision. Two and a half miles there and back would add five miles to our Walk, the Gare is a dead end we don’t have to walk unless we want to — extra Rule no.2 — and we didn’t. So we turned and started walking alongside the golf course where golfers were still playing despite the fact that the rain was getting quite heavy! It rained relentlessly for the rest of the Walk. (Some of the subsequent photos were taken when we returned to the area at a later date because it was too wet to risk getting out the camera.)It is not a very salubrious golf course with the chimneys of heavy industry belching smoke into the atmosphere in the near distance. The public footpath is supposed to go adjacent to the course for a while, then cut across the middle. We strongly suspect that the golfers had removed the fingerpost for we missed the way across and ended up trudging an extra half mile round the nether end. We then walked across a nature reserve, over a railway and out to the main road. We stood by the gate eating our apples because it was raining cats and dogs by then and there was nowhere to sit down.

The rest of the Walk was horrible!

We were supposed to walk only half a mile alongside the trunk road, then turn off to take a path leading alongside a pipeline, over a railway, then adjacent to it with huge heavy industry type factories either side of us. Not very salubrious, but at least it would get us away from the traffic. But we couldn’t find the path which led off the road. We looked more carefully, then found a small notice which informed us the path was closed so work could be done to prevent flooding. It closed only six days previously and would remain closed for the next six months! How’s that for bad timing? Our only alternative was to walk along the side of the dual carriageway for miles and miles and miles!
The rain was torrential, we got soaked with spray every time a lorry passed, we got waved at by youths in a car, we were constantly passed by ‘boy-racers’ driving at speed and we kept getting derogatory remarks about our capes. (We thought the capes were brilliant! We may have looked like a couple of hunchbacks, but they kept us and our rucksacks dry.) The factories looked gruesome, many with flames coming from their chimneys. We were not enjoying ourselves. On a roundabout further up the road was a colourful sculpture celebrating the steel industry. We rather liked it, but had to return at a later date, when it was not raining, to photograph it.
Eventually we were able to turn off on to the A66, and found a parallel estate road to walk along where there was little traffic. We passed a row of shops which had been burnt out, but it looked as if the chemist’s shop was still open. The area was so run down, easily the worst area we have walked through on the whole of this Trek. It was worse than anything in the Thames Estuary and worse than any part of Hull. There seems to be an atmosphere of hopelessness about Middlesbrough, perhaps it is something to do with the smoke and steam emanating from so many factory chimneys and breathed in on a daily basis by the local populace. It didn’t do us any good experiencing it on such a grey and wet day. Even when we came back on a sunny day, we didn’t feel any different about it.
Amongst the houses we came across a tall grey structure with no windows or doors. We were puzzled until we read a small plaque which was affixed to it:

THIS INGOT MOULD WAS
PRESENTED BY BRITISH STEEL
TO THE PEOPLE OF GRANGETOWN
IN RECOGNITION OF THEIR SERVICES
TO THE IRON AND STEEL INDUSTRY
APRIL 1999

We kept to tatty back streets until we came to the railway at an unmanned station. There Colin said, “What about catching a train back to Saltburn?” We looked on the timetable displayed in the station, and sure enough there was a direct service back to there, and it ran on Sundays! We would have plenty of time to get to the Transporter Bridge — then to the main station in Middlesbrough to catch it. I had been so into buses I had forgotten all about the trains!
We sat on the station platform to eat our chocolate, and then looked for the footpath which ran alongside the railway, according to our map. We hadn’t seen it when we had entered the station, so we looked along the end of the platform first — nothing! We retreated to the station entrance, and at last we spied it hidden behind a large bush and overgrown with eyebrow-high weeds! It was quite an ornamental entrance, a modern work of art which obviously hadn’t been there long. It was a sign that Middlesbrough is perhaps beginning to reinvent itself, but the sad thing was the footpath itself had disappeared under uncontrolled weeds and was ankle-deep in rubbish! Most of it was industrial litter — polythene wrappings and polystyrene wadding, that sort of thing. It had obviously been dumped there, and the wind had blown much of it into adjacent bushes where it hung like flags.In that rain, the whole scene was yukky!
We stomped on, the narrow path sandwiched between the railway line and a number of factories from which emanated humming sounds, hissing noises, steam and obnoxious smells. We were very wary of what we were actually treading in — it was difficult to remember that we were walking the coastal path! Further on we came across a safe which had been broken into — it was empty. It was just before a bridge where a dead-end road went over the railway. We surmised that it had been stolen from somewhere, then the thieves managed to break it open and steal the contents, and then threw the safe itself off the bridge in this out-of-the-way place. (When we returned in better weather to photograph it, it wasn’t there.)
We crossed the railway at a level crossing, and from there on we could see the famous Transporter Bridge above the intervening buildings. I hadn’t realised it was so tall! The ‘path’ was now a minor road, so walking was much more pleasant. We traversed several brand new car parks — all empty — and came across a brand new football stadium! This magnificent structure was in such contrast to the surrounding industrial / downtrodden area we had just passed through, it quite took us by surprise. I suppose we were lucky that there wasn’t a match when we passed through — there was hardly a soul about. The stadium was so new there was still work ongoing, but it was obviously open and in use. Perhaps Middlesbrough is pulling itself together after all!
We kept getting tantalising glimpses of the Transporter Bridge, then we rounded a corner and there it was! What a fascinating structure! It reminded me of Tower Bridge in London without the bottom bit. Wires hang down from the top bit to transport cars across the River Tees in a cage! I hadn’t realised it was like that, though Colin knew more about it. It is the first bridging point on the River Tees, and carries the main A178 across the river. It was built in 1911 in that way so that ships could pass underneath it unimpeded. It is the largest working bridge of its kind in the world. We were delighted to find that it is open every day, and carries pedestrians for a small fee.

That ended Walk no.132, we shall pick up Walk no.133 next time at the Transporter Bridge in Middlesbrough. We walked about a hundred yards down the road to the railway station where we caught a train directly back to Saltburn. It was only while we were waiting for the train that we realised how wet — and subsequently how cold — we were. In Saltburn we walked the short distance to our car, then drove straight to Port Mulgrave where two roast dinners were waiting for us at the local pub. Then we felt better, but it was still raining when we returned to our tent.
At a later date I managed to find two pictures of the Transporter Bridge taken in the 1950s.

Abandoned Walk!

We had planned to do Walk no.133 the next day, 22nd May. It had started raining when the alarm went at 6am. Undaunted, we got up and prepared everything for the day’s Walk. Then we drove all the way to Hartlepool, and drove round a bit there to get our bearings about bus stops, car parks, etc. We decided on a free car park just south of the harbour. I put on my cape, got out of the car — and got straight back in again! The cold northerly wind would have been blowing in our faces for the whole of the ten mile Walk, and the rain was teeming down relentlessly. It was just impossible — worse than yesterday and worse than Winter. We went to a pub instead, and another one in the evening for good measure!It eventually stopped raining at 8pm — after 14 hours!!! Since more of the same was forecast, we packed up our soggy camp the next day and went home. We came back in July when the weather was better.

Walk 131 -- Port Mulgrave, via Staithes & Skinningrove, to Saltburn-by-the-Sea

Ages: Colin was 64 years and 11 days. Rosemary was 61 years and 153 days.

Weather: Heavy showers with fleeting glimpses of the sun. Very windy!
Location: Port Mulgrave to Saltburn-by-the-Sea, via Staithes and Skinningrove.
Distance: 10½ miles.
Total distance: 1041 miles.
Terrain: Mostly grassy cliff paths which were very undulating! Cobbles in Staithes, concrete in Skinningrove and Saltburn.
Tide: Out.
Rivers: Nos.53, 54 & 55 — Staithes Beck in Staithes, Kilton Beck in Skinningrove and Skelton Beck in Saltburn.
Ferries: None.
Piers: None.
Kissing gates: No.99 at the very beginning of the Walk.
Pubs: ‘New Marine’ in Saltburn where we drank ‘Olde Trip’ by Hardy’s and Hanson’s. (We did this the next day as we were too tired at the end of our Walk even for the pub!)
‘English Heritage’ properties: None.
Ferris wheels: None.
Diversions: None.
How we got there and back: We were camping in Hinderwell. Colin drove to Saltburn and parked the car at the top of the cliff lift. Then he returned to the campsite by a series of two buses, as there was no direct bus link. We walked down through Port Mulgrave to the clifftop.
At the end we drove straight back to the campsite in Hinderwell.

When our alarm went off at 6am in our tent this morning, it started raining! Undaunted, we got up anyway and did all our usual things to get ready — and then it stopped. But it soon started again, and that is how it was all day. Once Colin had ‘planted’ the car in Saltburn, we walked to the clifftop at Port Mulgrave, back-tracking a little to the ‘permissive path’ notice where we had left the clifftop yesterday. It was a couple of days later that we clambered down the steep path to the beach. It is not exactly a ‘port’, more a pile of rocks on the beach! Only the smallest of fishing boats could possibly land there.
It started raining again, and it was quite windy on the exposed cliff. Colin persistently refused to put his arms out of the sleeve-holes in his cape — he says his wrists get wet if he does — so it kept twisting round and he got in a right mess with it. Also it flapped noisily in the wind. I just let him get on with it, I can’t be sympathetic when he behaves so obstinately. At least he didn’t try to battle it out with his wretched umbrella this time!We walked along to the end of the road, past some fields on the clifftop, and came to the top of a steep slope. There we met a walking group coming up. I don’t know how far they were intending to walk, but one lady looked all in by the time she got to the top. Perhaps she should have got herself fitter before she embarked on a walking holiday, or perhaps she was frightened of being left behind and was walking more quickly than she wanted to in order to keep up with the ‘route-marchers’. If it was the latter I can sympathise. One of the main reasons I don’t like walking in groups is because people generally tend to walk too fast!
It had stopped raining by then — just — but it was still very windy so we kept our capes on. Colin strode ahead of me with his cape flapping noisily because he wouldn’t put his hands through the sleeves. The sheep in the field rushed after him, baaing furiously! It was so funny, I was helpless with laughter! If he stopped and turned round, they all stopped too and looked bemused. When he carried on they rushed after him again. We think they were under the impression that he was their shepherd. They were most disappointed when we reached the bottom and left their field.
We approached the fishing village of Staithes down a narrow block-stone path. There we met another walking group, all women and mostly young. They were all wearing the same design T-shirt with the words – ‘WALKING FOR CHILDREN CANCER RESEARCH’ – emblazoned across their bosoms. Sorry, we are not walking for anybody, simply because we don’t work that way. As I’ve said before, we gave our time to various good causes when we were younger. Several friends have suggested we raise ‘loads of money’ for charity by getting ourselves sponsored, but we decided, at the outset, that we were doing this for ourselves — for our health, to kid ourselves that we are still young, and for fun. We must be beholden to nobody, and that is what keeps us going. As soon as we ask for sponsorship, it will become a chore. As soon as it becomes a chore, we will no longer be able to carry on. We are doing it because we don't have to! That is the essence of this trek! It MUST remain as it is, for no reason whatsoever, or we can't continue with it. Another friend has suggested it could be a ‘nice little earner’. For the same reasons, it can’t be. It is a completely futile exercise, but we have gained an enormous amount from it. I feel we know our country, and it’s history, more than most people — and we are not even a quarter of the way round! We are fitter now than we have ever been, despite hyperopia, monocular vision, astigmatism, myopia, hypertension, gastro-oesophageal reflux, arthritis, incontinence, cramp, legs full of pins and screws, bad feet and wonky knees — we ignore them all! As for will we ever finish? – Who knows? – We plan to zoom back into Bognor with great pizazz! on our jet-ski zimmer frames when we are about 106! Between us, we have so far conquered two badly broken legs and prostate cancer. Who knows what's round the next corner?
Staithes is a Clovelly / Polperro-type fishing village, very pretty. We walked down the cobbled streets — pity about the double yellow lines — past picturesque little cottages to the harbour. The trouble is that, nowadays, most of these cottages are probably holiday lets, and few locals, if any, can make their living fishing from such a tiny place. One of the cottages was called ‘James Cook Cottage’. A plaque (not blue) on its wall proclaimed:

The young James Cook

received his first taste of the sea and ships
in this harbour village
where he worked as an assistant to
William Sanderson, merchant,
for 18 months from 1745.

I remember coming here in the 1980s on an Open University Summer School where I was studying Geology. (No plaque for me!) We marched down the main street and out on to the beach — a motley selection of ‘students’ of indeterminate ages, shapes and sizes — wearing hard hats and carrying clipboards and geological hammers! We must have looked ridiculous on a holiday beach in the middle of August, but we thought it was all very serious and important at the time. (After spending many cold hours in the rain on soggy beaches, windy clifftops, climbing waterfalls, slithering down cliffs, eating rocks (yes, really!), standing in draughty road cuttings and rat-infested quarries, I eventually managed to gain a second class honours degree in the Earth Sciences! Was it worth it? That question is still open for debate.)
We sat on a seat overlooking the tiny harbour and ate the pies I had bought freshly that morning in Hinderwell. The sun came out, the sky was blue and it was really nice, so we put our capes away. Five minutes later we hurriedly got them out again — the sky had turned BLACK!
We crossed the beck into Cowbar and were amused by some pixie dolls ‘climbing’ the cliff. A notice told us they were the Cowbar Search & Rescue Team! We climbed up the winding lane, and just as we got out into the open the black cloud emptied its contents all over us. It was like walking through a giant power-shower, the mother and father of a storm! But it was soon over though the wind didn’t die down.
We noticed the road at the top had recently been rerouted further away from the cliff edge. Erosion is the reason for this, we could see places where chunks had fallen away. We came across a double sided seat in stone which was a memorial to Eric and Nina Hibbin who had died recently in their eighties. A carved message the other side told us it was a ‘Walkers Halt’. What a nice thought! Obviously they were a couple who liked walking and loved this spot. Unfortunately we couldn’t use it because it was still pouring with rain, in fact we had to come back in the car on another day to photograph it. We walked along to the hamlet of Boulby, and by that time the rain had just about stopped. We passed a row of houses, and the end one was for sale. A forlorn hope, really, because it is right on the cliff edge! We had to go very carefully past it because the cliff had fallen away leaving only a very narrow path. (Mind you, our house in Bognor has been on the market for TEN WEEKS now, we have had one viewing and no offers — and we don’t live anywhere near a cliff edge!)I was feeling a bit grumpy because my arthritic toe was playing up again. It has been ‘quiet’ for months — no years — because I always apply ‘Powergel’ before I start on a walk. But today it hadn’t seemed to work, so I had to stop, remove my boot and apply some more. It was really quite painful and I couldn’t walk evenly because of it.
The path took a sharp turn left and went up a very steep bank. We were climbing the highest cliffs in England! My, it was windy up there! We were looking for a place to stop and eat the rest of our lunch, and ended up huddled behind a dry-stone wall. Even there we felt we were being blown over the six hundred foot cliff — but at least the rain held off. A mile or so further on we took an alternative path through an area called ‘The Warren’, and there we found a host of wild flowers including carpets of bluebells. It was beautiful, and we were really enjoying ourselves despite being in such an exposed place in a high wind. I think the conditions gave us extra adrenalin to carry on.
We descended to beach level at Skinningrove down a very steep uneven flight of steps. It was quite tricky because there was no handrail. Skinningrove was a mining village where they dug out ironstone for about a hundred years from the mid-nineteenth to the mid-twentieth century. So the cottages are quite different — rows of Victorian terraced mining cottages, not pretty little fishermen’s cottages. As a result, it gives the impression that it is generally ignored by tourists. When we returned to the area a few weeks later, we visited the mining museum which is further up the valley. We were amazed to discover that there is a labyrinth of passages which were dug out during that hundred years of mining, covering six square miles!! The whole town of Loftus is perched over this honeycomb — the only building they didn’t dig under was the church and its adjacent cemetery because that would have been ‘unlucky’. So “Beware!” any of you who are thinking of living in Loftus — your house could disappear down a hole even as you sleep! An information board by the bridge told us that at the height of the mining operations “the cliffs steamed with slag tipped from the furnaces and a smell of sulphur filled the air. Few trees remained, and the beck ran red with mine water.” Mining ceased forty-eight years ago, so we found it to be a lot cleaner and more pleasant.
We crossed the bridge, and found a bench out of the wind where we could sit and give ourselves an energy boost by eating chocolate. I also reapplied the ‘Powergel’ as my toe was still giving me jip, and I took a couple of paracetamol as well — that cured it! We didn’t go on the jetty because it was closed and derelict, though some local boys on bikes were playing on it. We went through a broken bridge and found a fairly firm path along the top of the sand dunes — the beach was too ‘sinky’. We watched a family playing with their dogs down there — good to see children out in the open air, not huddled over a computer screen.
The path took us up some steps to the top of the cliff, the last climb of this particular Walk we were pleased to note from the map. At the top, after a steady climb which seemed to go on forever, we came across an iron sculpture. It was a ring hung with ‘charms’, but it was huge! We rather liked it, especially coming across it unexpectedly in such a remote place. There we were joined by a railway coming round the hill — there wasn’t much room for the path between the line and the cliff edge at the narrowest point. We were puzzled because we knew the passenger line came to an end at Saltburn, and we wondered if this part of the line was still in use. Then a train came along, so that answered the question. It was a freight train from the potash mine just outside Staithes. Our glorious wild walk along the coastal east edge of the North York Moors was coming to an end.
As the railway looped away, following the contours, we could see the sun shining on Saltburn-by-the-Sea and an industrial landscape in the distance. Smoke was gently rising into the evening sunshine and ships were lining up in the distance, waiting for the tide so they could enter Hartlepool. It was a stunning view, but we couldn’t help a sinking feeling in our hearts — we were not looking forward to the Middlesbrough and Hartlepool area with all their chemical works.
We took a last lingering look at the beautiful cliffs behind us, and descended to sea level at Saltburn. Here the Cleveland Way turns sharply inland across the moors to Helmsley. We had been following it from Filey, but had to leave it here.

Saltburn-by-the-Sea boasts the most northerly pier in England, but we decided to leave its exploration to another day because we were so tired. We crossed the beck and came across a tiny chapel which just had one word above the door — Mortuary. There was no cemetery anywhere near, as far as we could see in our fatigued state, and we wondered about the history of the building. We walked along the prom as far as the pier. On the way we admired a mural of the seaside, based on a children’s painting. It was so bright and cheerful with all the elements of a typical seaside holiday. Opposite the pier entrance we came to a cliff lift — our car was parked at the top. But we were too late, the lift was closed!
That ended Walk no.131, we shall pick up Walk no.132 next time at the shore end of Saltburn Pier. We walked up steps to our car, had a cup of tea and drove straight back to our camp at Hinderwell. We were too tired even to visit the pub!