Where the river meets the sea at the north-west corner of England

We are never put off by chilly weather and walking under wide and luminous skies and beside sparkling seas on the Solway Firth is a winter treat. The dark days of the year can seem endless and an injection of this clean light and a few colourful west-coast sunsets help me feel optimistic about spring.  This is an isolated corner of England, no one just passes by these coastal towns along the Solway, and for me, this sense of being on the edge adds to the charm.

The estuary known as the Solway Firth separates England and Scotland and we began our tour on its English shores in the small Cumbrian seaside resort of Allonby.  The hazy February sunshine was welcome, the sea shimmered with a pearly light and across the water we could see the distinctive hill called Criffel in Scotland.

Wrapped in layers we headed for the beach for some invigorating fresh air.  Anthony watched for birds and I walked along the tideline, constantly stopping to admire a shell, pebble or piece of pottery that caught my eye.  The chilly breeze whipped up the sand and we both had a healthy sand-blasted glow as we wandered back along Allonby’s street.  A quiet backwater out of season, Allonby is still a popular resort with swanky houses from its heyday.  Most striking is the old Quaker Reading Room, an unusual red-brick building with a clock tower and an uninterrupted sea view.  The building was a sorry derelict sight for many years but has now been renovated as a stylish private house that I yearn to peek inside.

The rolling green countryside in this corner of Cumbria is largely ignored by tourists and the quiet roads are a pleasure to cruise along.  With the exception of a friendly ginger cat, we had the remains of Holme Cultrum Abbey to ourselves.  I was delighted to find one of my favourite flowers, snowdrops brightening up the rambling graveyard and ruins with their shiny green stems and bobbing brilliant-white heads.  Snowdrops cheer up the dreariest day.

Planning our trip, Grune Point had caught my eye.  This remote spit of land, shaped by the tides, stretches along the Solway Firth from the town of Silloth.  Before walking along Grune Point the next morning we went in search of an essential warming coffee and stumbled into the Fairy Dust Emporium Café, a flamboyant and charming café with welcoming staff.  Sitting at one of the wooden tables surrounded by fairies of every shape and size, we rang a bell for service and another fairy gained her wings.  As well as hot coffee the irresistible warm cheese scones with fiery chilli jam were a tonic.

Striding out along the wide promenade above the beach, the Solway Firth and Scotland were to our left and houses with an enviable sea view to our right.  After a larger-than-life metal sculpture of a man and his dog and East Cote Lighthouse we picked up a lane lined with yellow flowering gorse bushes that held the promise of spring.  Nearer to the point we walked along a beach that alternated shingle of colourful pebbles and soft deep sand blown into mini dunes and dotted with bleached driftwood.  The blues of the sea merged into the huge sky, sharp calls of oystercatchers filled the air and the sun warmed our backs; it was as stunning as I had hoped.

Turning the corner of Grune Point we were looking over a vast area of salt marsh and mud flats, wriggling with channels.  The cheese scones and coffee had worn off and we found shelter near an old pill box and cupped our hands around mugs of hot chocolate from our flask, another winter essential.  In a clamour of honking, hundreds of barnacle geese rose from the salt marsh and flew over our heads in unruly v-shaped skeins.  A heavy shower followed the geese and we hurried back to Silloth.

We received another warm Silloth welcome in the Motorcycle Museum, a Tardis-like place packed with bikes and motorcycling memorabilia that will delight anyone.  Silloth once had a racing circuit at the airfield and the owner talked passionately about his experiences of racing there and on the Isle of Man.  Wistfully I recalled my visit to the TT in the 1970s but couldn’t pinpoint the year; of course the knowledgeable owner soon pieced it together from my muddle of vague memories.

A frost had turned the green countryside into a winter-wonderland white the next morning as we drove to Newton Arlosh to see the fortified church.  In this border area churches were built with thick walls, narrow doorways and a tower as a refuge for people and animals during attacks from Scotland.  This medieval church fell out of use and became a roofless sheep pen but was restored in the 19^th century by Sarah Losh, a local wealthy and determined woman and it now has many fascinating features including a stone eagle on the roof.

The Solway Firth had narrowed when we picked up its shores again and pulled into the RSPB reserve at Campfield Marsh where the pools were frozen and the ducks waited patiently for the water to melt.  A railway line once crossed these marshes and a viaduct took it over the Solway to Scotland.  In the cold winter of 1881 ice, up to 6ft thick, bumped against the pillars of the railway viaduct destroying sections.  A local paper reported that workmen on the viaduct were distracted when they spotted a hare stranded on a block of ice and floating out to sea!  The railway closed in 1921 and the disused line became part of an ambitious and dangerous pub crawl.  Thirsty Scots would cross the viaduct on foot to take advantage of the more lenient Sunday licensing laws in England.  There are stories of inebriated individuals missing their footing on the bridge and never making it home and until the viaduct was demolished a guard was employed to try and prevent these fatal journeys. 

We wandered around the quayside remains at Port Carlisle before parking in Burgh by Sands to hike onto the salt marsh to the monument to Edward I who died here on his way to invading Scotland.  This land is the grazing for prized salt marsh lamb and an annual auction for parcels of land called stints is still held every year.  Across the River Eden we could see traffic on the M6 and The Metal Bridge Inn, [not surprisingly] named after the metal bridge over the River Esk. This would be our stop for the night.

The Metal Bridge Inn is a landmark for anyone driving north on the M6 and a place that combines isolation with six-lanes of traffic.  Under another orange-red sky I climbed the steps of the railway bridge and looked down on the River Esk as it wound its way through salt marshes to the Solway and the Irish Sea. Skeins of pink-footed geese flew overhead, their energetic honking so loud and uninhibited they drowned out the traffic on the M6!

Although I was craving light, coziness is also essential to get through the winter months and this snug pub welcomes campervans on a dedicated parking area and serves good beer and hearty food.  By the time we walked back to the Blue Bus in the dark all the ‘pitches’ were taken and I was pleased to see we weren’t the only campers enjoying our ‘van all year.

Part Two and our journey into Scotland and the Scottish shore of the Solway will be in my next post.

Photographs of the Allonby’s old Reading Room, Grune Point and Newton Arlosh church below.