The Coast to Coast Walk: Prologue 2

The Coast to Coast Walk: Prologue 2

‘Anchored down in Anchorage’ – Whitehaven to St. Bees, Sunday 19th September 2010.

'Hey Chel you know it's kinda funny


Texas always seems so big


But you know you're in the largest state in the Union


When you're anchored down in Anchorage'

Anchored Down in Anchorage, Michelle Shocked

It’s been raining since yesterday evening. I have no problems with the rain, so it doesn’t bother me, and anyway, it gives me a chance to try out the rainproof trousers. Ann had breakfast ready at 8am – sat and watched the Pope doing Pope stuff – 30 minutes of intrepid reporting; “yes, he’s getting out of the car now…he’s waving at people…he’s getting into a helicopter…” I was more interested in my egg, beans on toast and the pot of coffee. I ask Ann about leaving times, she says “Whenever you like” – great! This may give me a chance to check out Carlisle. If I phone ahead to St.Bees which I’ve now found out is just 4 miles away, I can arrange what time they want me there – hopefully making for a relaxing day, after all, as Bill Hicks once said – why pressure ourselves?

Also, my legs still hurt from Thursday night – what a muppet. Because when you’ve spent weeks training by walking from Bethnal Green to Westminster and back again most work nights, when you’ve been told not to run, not even for a bus – what do you go and do? Days before you set off, you go and see Underworld live at the Forum with Shifty and giles and jump up and down like a maniac for two hours. Muppet. Great gig though.

I phone ahead and they’ll be ready for me by 16.30, so I head out with the intention of heading to Carlisle. Unfortunately it’s a winter Sunday Service on the small shuntshunt train – there’s only three trains on a Sunday and the first one isn’t due until 12.57. As it takes almost 1hr30m to get to Carlisle, it would make getting there and coming back really difficult. I have to abandon the idea. Thing is, it’s 10am in Whitehaven on a wet Sunday morning – there is nothing to do. So I wander around the quay again, take a walk for a bit along the coastal path and manage to kill a few hours. As I’m wandering, I find the remnants of a Sunday paper by a bench. It’s the plastic wrapping that houses all the Sunday supplements, inside is a Kylie Minogue CD with ‘The Mail on Sunday’ emblazoned in the bottom left corner. Why would you buy vile rubbish like The Mail and leave the Kylie CD? Why the hell is Kylie working with The Mail in the first place? Ah well, at least I get a free Kylie CD and it’s got Can’t Get Blue Monday Out of My Head on it.

I pass The Vagabond again. Bob stares at me, raising his hat as if to say ‘Welcome!’ It’s still pissing with rain. OK Bob, if you insist. By bizarre chance I find myself eating the lovely five-bean chilli for lunch again. This time I tried Bitters End’s Lakeland Blonde. It’s even lighter than the Gold. It’s a nice pint but there’s not the flavour in comparison to the Gold. I make absolutely sure by having a few more of the Gold just to be on the safe side.

There’s a band setting up in the front of the pub, I think they’re a Blues band. The radio is playing the blues and they’re playing and singing along so that might be clue. It’s North England Blues…not The Hollies though, more…erm…Jimmy Nail. Actually he’s just walked in with an angry looking mullet and a suit tailored by MC Hammer…OK I’m making that bit up. The Vagabond is far too chilled for that sort of thing. The blues band are making heavy work of setting out a simple Mackie mixer, I’d help them but then there’d be nothing to watch. Eventually they work it out and a small audience filter in. The band start playing – that song about the moonlight by Van Morrison and that modern one where it’s a shame about some bloke called Ray. That’s not the blues! A kid wanders round handing out business cards on behalf of the band – apparently they are modern and classic rock. Shame, they were a better blues band.

I’m half cut and it’s only 3pm so I order a taxi to come in an hour. It’d be foolish to carry my stuff the full…4 miles to St. Bees…I might do myself an injury – I mean - why pressure myself?

St. Bees is lovely and small and is sort of burrowed in a crevice next to the shore. I drop my stuff off at the Abbey Farm B&B, and I’m given a tour around by Steve who owns the place with Janet. It’s a big place, and warm too. I’m in a big room with a massive iron bed and a fireplace and free Wi-Fi between 8am – 10pm. Steve hands me a leaflet provided by Cumbria County Council; Circular St. Bees Walk 1. Basically, you start this short walk on the beach at exactly the point where the C2C starts but you head south not north, along the coast for a bit and then over the train tracks and a small footpath back into town.

In town I hole up at The Manor and have fish n chips and a pint of Copper Ale – nice pint but I can’t remember who makes it. Right, it’s time for bed – early night tonight as the walk begins tomorrow.

Flickrfotos as usual at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/hoodlum_scientist/