Coast & Castles Day 1 - Newcastle-Upon-Tyne to Amble
For the 3rd time this year (sorry Andrea!) the blog is back! With Dec off to Norway with his inspirational Parkinson’s mates, Conleth busy doing good things and his podcast (check out man hug podcast, it’s ace…) and Kieran already putting me through it on the South Downs Way a couple of months ago ( I still have PTSD about it…) it was left to me and Frankie to put the lid on the cycling season and to see off his remaining original hip before his operation to become fully bionic sometime before Christmas. A quick discussion before I told him we’ll be cycling in Northumberland, and the route from Newcastle to Berwick Upon Tweed was agreed at a manageable 50 miles or so a day, and a date put in the diary for this weekend!
Having spent last weekend with Frankie at Liverpool seeing our mate Paul get a well deserved alumni award, I knew he was crook, not only with his hip but big style man flu and so it was touch and go as to whether he’d be well enough to even start the trip, but as you know he’s a trooper! Bringing some stuff up to Ana, his daughter who’s in her last year at Newcastle Uni on Friday and me working in Washington, I parked the car up outside my brothers house in Westerhope on the outskirts of Newcastle, had a quick catch up and slung the bags on the bike the 7 miles downhill to the hotel we were staying at along the Quayside, with just enough time to flip the bird to the Man City players team coach coming down the Scotswood Road next to me for the match with the dirty black and whites on Saturday, obviously leaving my cycling sunglasses behind…
Learning from mine and Kieran’s pre South Downs Way “fuelling” session, we agreed if we had an adult with us to keep us in check it would be a great idea, so Ana agreed to chaperone us for dinner and drinks…it led us to a great Italian in Jesmond with 1/2 pizza, 1/2 pasta on the menu! Result! A couple of pints in and we were arranging to meet Ana and all her mates in Flares in the Bigg market at 11…! Ultimately the damage to Ana’s street cred from having these badly dressed old men coming out with her prevailed, but not until we’d gone into Ana’s friends house to meet everyone 😁
What had helped Frankie’s decsion to carry on with the ride despite everything was that the weather forecast was looking spectacular for the weekend, and so it proved pulling back the curtains to brilliant sunshine shining over the iconic bridges over the Tyne. After a forgetful breakfast and the usual faffing about getting everything on the bikes we set off underneath the Tyne Bridge along the Quayside at just after 10am in the beautiful sunshine for the 12 miles to Tynemouth. Mostly cycle paths, we cycled through the East end of Newcastle familiar to me from my childhood as my mam was born and brought up in Walker, and we had gone to see my Grandma and Grandad who had lived there, every week.
The contrast to Jemond and the West end of Newcastle is still stark, albeit probably not as much as it was when I was little. Heavily industrialised back then, with the massive Swan Hunters shipyard providing the work (See my excellent dissertation “Swan Hunters : A classic case of British De-Industrialisation” for more information on its decline…or not, it’s crap and left me with a Desmond (2(ii)) 😁) I bored Frankie rigid with tales of my Grandma taking us to the cafe in Wallsend and letting up play on the one armed bandit, and the shop at the back door of the old lady over the road where she’d sell individual cigs to kids for 10p…
Passing the place where they lived ( not the house or street, long demolished and replaced with a new estate) we weren’t seeing much coast or any castles, but the weather was lovely, the bike paths nice and segregated and soon we were round a corner and onto Tynemouth marina. Well it could have been Monaco! ( if you squinted really hard…) stopping for a quick photo it was round the sluice gates to the bay and a lovely, if busy ride along the beach prom and Tynemouth priory and Castle were in front of us for the first stop of the day. The bike paths had been slow going and the coast paths very busy because of the lovely weather but we had only done 12 miles in 2 hours…This one was definitely not a race or a balls out effort so all was fine as we had coffee and flap jack (Frankie) coffee and cheese scone (me) on a bench in the sunshine by the sea-side. Perfect! As always with me, discussion revolved when the next food stop would be, so I suggested Blyth, 10 miles up the coast but not quite halfway, or Ashington 20 miles up the coast, but I did warn Frankie it wouldn’t be quite as nice! Despite the warning, Ashington was chosen and on the bikes and off we went…
Just as he left, as if in protest, the sun went in and I became acutely aware it was nearly October and we’re in Northumberland! Back on with the jacket and with just enough time to stop at the public toilets in Seaton Sluice for the joy of getting piss all over the bottom of my overshoes, and Frankie to quickly get his Ireland top out at a historic military vehicle exhibition at the Blyth Battery and nearly get us lynched, it was down the rollercoaster cinder bike path through Blyth and up the somewhat none descript bike paths next to the A1 and onto our lunch stop in Ashington.
As I suggested to Frankie, Ashington was, as a lot of towns I see in my job, very much down on its luck. As we cycled past the football club (who the mighty Emley will be playing this season) and onto the high street, the sure fire signs of high unemployment and poverty were all around. Boarded up shops by the plenty, the only businesses trading being vape shops, porn brokers, nail bars, betting shops and charity shops. Ashington had the added bonus of a mobility scooter store as well. The only cafe had closed at 2 ( it was just after) so the choice was Asda or Greggs. No choice really! As those who know me well, I bloody love a Greggs! With Frankie taking a busted photo of me coming out with most of the shop, we sat on the bench outside talking how successive governments (both Labour and Tory before anyone starts) had let places like Ashington down badly and that the easy solutions to very complicated problems that frog face Farage and Reform offer people with very little hope must be attractive as they had no help whatsoever from either of the main parties.
To cheer ourselves up we decided to take the small detour to Hirst Park in Ashington where the Charlton brothers Jackie and Bobby played as kids, and after Jackie’s death the whole town had clubbed together with what little money they had to put a statue of Jackie in the Park. Well it was magnificent and pretty moving to be honest. Frankie especially has fond memories of Jack when he managed the Ireland national team during the late 80’s and early 90’s, and he and that Ireland team from the 1990 World Cup also left an indelible mark on me in my year at Liverpool. One of my fondest possessions is a “team” photo of us all after the quarter final (I think!, I had a lot of Guinness that night) when Ireland got knocked out, me being the only one without any connection to Ireland apart from all these amazing, funny, generous people I’d met. I’d learned a lot from Frankie, Fergus, Alan and countless others that belonging, nationality and all that bollocks is complicated and nuanced and just to prove it I’d end up getting chucked in the pond at the halls of residence later that night by some areshole England fans who thought I was a traitor!
With the visit to Jacks statue done, we only had 14 or so miles to get to the overnight stop at lovely Amble, and the sun had reappeared! Dodging round the power station at Lynemouth, with time for Frankie to get dog shit all over his front tyre for the second time today then break his reflector of his front wheel drying to drag it along the grass, it was a very lovely road, with a bit of gravel thrown in to keep Frankie on his toes (he’s on a road bike, I’m on a gravel bike…) and with Druridge Bay on our left shoulder we were pulling into the ice cream shop me, Andrea, Ev, Mizz and Nevis had stopped off at only a month ago last time we were here and 2 double scoop ice creams eaten in the sunshine a lovely end to a pretty much perfect day! In the end we’d done 51 miles and 1500 feet of climbing and average 10mph for the time we’d been peddling. Not bad and kind of what I’d thought we’d do given the busy shared paths, gravelly bits and crossing roads etc. The “boutique” Hostel I’d booked was just around the corner, with a garage kitted out to store bikes, it was perfect! It even had bunk beds…☺️
A quick shower and change for me, finding out Emley had battered Bishop Auckland away 4-0 then a lovely walk out to the pier and round the breakwater as the sunset as Frankie stretched out his battered and broken body (with enough time to lose his daily contact lens at the back of his eye for 20 minutes) and he joined me for a brisk walk, a pint in the excellent harbour pub having sat in the naughty corner, then fresh sea food for tea in the Fish shack right on the harbour wall. Lovely it was too, although my chilli Coley linguini was possibly the spiciest thing I’ve ever eaten, and Frankie’s whole Sea Bream meant him performing laparoscopic surgery to get all the bones our…(he did, excellently eat the cheeks from the head though!)
Bigger day tomorrow, more miles and more climbing. Frankie’s never been to this part of Northumberland before and he’s in for an absolute treat, isn’t he! The weather looks to be the same as today, it’s going to be mint…😁
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