Days 147-150: Skegness to Hull

The good news is that Zpacks are kindly sending me a replacement tent, to support my adventures. In the meantime, I’m taking advantage of a reasonable weather window to complete Lincolnshire over four days.

Today is forecast as the only wet day and they certainly have that right, as the deserted Skegness pleasure beach is freezing, damp and windy. A forlorn ferris wheel awaits winter repairs.

A grey procession of concrete promenades and hibernating holiday parks leads me to Ingoldmells, where motocross bikes are roaring round a beach circuit.

I’m grateful for shelter and a hot coffee at the informative North Sea Observatory.

The rain has finally cleared and the rest of the afternoon makes for a pleasant, if blustery, stroll along the beach to my B&B at Mablethorpe, taking in various artistic installations from the Structures on the Edge project. They include the Cloud Bar, Britain’s only purpose-built cloud-spotting platform. Who would guess that there is a Cloud Appreciation Society?

Thursday

I’ve 24 miles to cover today and the days are short, so it’s a pre-dawn start along the beach — a gorgeous morning, cold but dry and clear.

Approaching the Donna Nook bombing range, the red warning flags are flying, leaving me a narrow band of dunes to continue my walk. I turn a corner and discover hundreds, possibly thousands, of grey seals spread across the dunes as far as I can see, including several pups fast asleep on the narrow path I’m following.

There’s no way I can walk along the dunes without disturbing the mothers and their pups. My only other option is to try and find a way through the forest of small buckthorn trees. It’s a disaster — the toughest hour on my coastal walk to date. The ground is undulating, carpeted with dead branches and my feet plunge through the gaps, my legs snagging on brambles. The buckthorn is dense and hostile, with sharp thorns tearing my hands and legs. Eventually, I hit a trail leading inland and ignore the “Trespassers will be prosecuted!” signs. I have no choice.

A couple are exercising dogs in a large fenced compound and the woman approaches. I apologise and explain my situation. She’s very sympathetic. There were 2,000 seal pups last year and I’ve arrived at peak pupping season. A footpath is to be carved through the buckthorn forest to save future walkers.

I make it to Cleethorpes before sunset, where I have the luxury of a Premier Inn. Stripping for a bath, buckthorn leaves tumble out of every pocket. I spend a good hour digging out thorns from my legs and hands. Oh well, anything for an adorable seal pup.

Friday

I’m staying in Cleethorpes for another night, as the plan is to hike as far as possible and then catch a train back. I can’t hike to Hull in a day and there is nowhere else to stay on route.

Another pre-dawn start and another beautiful crisp morning. A fitness trainer is leading a small class on the promenade and stops to chat. He has similar plans to hike round the coast when he retires, in addition to cycling round the world. He’s built like a tank and towers over me, so I don’t suppose he will have much difficulty fulfilling his ambitions.

I’ve not planned my route in any detail, just trying to keep to the water’s edge, which is always a challenge at a large port and Grimsby is no exception. A metal gate marked “Keep out!” is hanging open, allowing me to follow the narrow concrete sea wall. Unfortunately, an open entrance does not guarantee an easy exit, as I turn a corner to find locked gates with tall spiked metal railings. Oh boy, it’s a long way back. I spot a missing railing and, removing my backpack, squeeze through into a warehouse yard. Perhaps others have come this way before me. Sure enough, there’s a small gap at the bottom of a wire mesh fence, leading back onto the port ring road. I manage to crawl through and enjoy a fine view across the dock. That was a doddle compared to my battle with the buckthorn forest yesterday.

The rest of the day is all concrete sea walls, chemical plants and power stations.

I catch a train back to Cleethorpes from Goxhill. I figure I’ve earned a little luxury so it’s cheese, biscuits and red wine, while watching England play the USA. At least the wine was enjoyable.

Saturday

Due to the train strike, I have to catch a couple of buses to Barrow upon Humber and pick up my walk from yesterday. It’s a relatively short day, so I hunt down a bakery offering a choice between regular sausage rolls and ones with caramelized onions. An easy decision.

The Humber Bridge is impressive — at 1.38 miles, it’s the longest single-span suspension bridge in the world that can be crossed on foot. I’m welcomed into Yorkshire by a man crossing the bridge on a unicycle. There’s nowt so queer as folk.

A rather grim path next to the A63 transforms into a fascinating run into Hull’s city centre via derelict buildings and over warehouse rooftops. My sort of place.

The Voyage sculpture by Steinunn Þórarinsdóttir and a sister sculpture in Vik on the south coast of Iceland symbolise the bond created by more than a thousand years of sea trading between Hull and Iceland. The original statue was stolen by scrap metal thieves!

There’s plenty of time to explore the city centre, tracking down interesting street art, especially the striking Japanese-themed murals by Dan Kitchener.

My CAMRA guide recommends the tiny Hop & Vine. Despite tracking it on Google Maps, I walk past it, hidden in a basement down a small flight of stairs. A lovely place. So much so that I stay for a second delicious pint of Against the Grain. I have a long chat with the manager, who recommends another pub nearby that serves food. A long-grey-haired bandana-wearing manager is playing a song list to die for, with Ace of Spades hammering out. Time for another pint with a pulled pork wrap. I like Yorkshire already.

Walk distance: 72 miles.

Total distance: 2,427 miles.