Holme next the sea

The Norfolk coast, like much of the east coast of England is suffering from coastal erosion which over time is set to dramatically change the landscape and, if the Climate Change models are accurate, then much of Norfolk could one day disappear.

However, back in 1998 at Holme Next the Sea, coastal erosion uncovered something very interesting, and caused a great deal of excitement among archaeologists. The remnants of an ancient wooden structure appeared out of the sands which they duly named “Seahenge”. This structure consists of a ring of split oak trees tightly fitted together to form a circle with a small entrance. Inside the ring was a tree stump which had been dug up and re-planted. Nothing too remarkable about this except it was re-planted upside down. This whole structure was built 4,500 years ago, just shortly before the Pyramids were built. Now I was always under the impression that, apart from the people that built Stonehenge, at this time Britain was full of primitive tribesmen with none of the technical expertise found in the more sophisticated civilisations such as Egypt. Yet with primitive tools and no modern machinery they managed to build this incredible wooden structure.

I pulled on to the field which would be our latest stop on the mission and paid my £6 for the pitch. I asked the owner where we had to go to find Seahenge.

“Peterborough” he told me.

“Peterborough ?”

“Yes, Peterborough”

“But I thought it was discovered here in Holme next the Sea”, I said in a rather distressed manner.

“It was” he replied “and then they dug it up and moved it to Peterborough because they didn’t want the sea and air to corrode it”.

I was gutted.

“They didn’t take all of it though” he informed me “Cuz I have a bronze axe that was used to build it in my shed”

I rolled my eyes, gave him the kind of look that says something like “yeah, pull the other one.” But then I saw his shed! If he didn’t have a Bronze-age axe in his shed then its about the only thing he didn’t have in it. This building, approximately 20 foot long by ten foot wide, must have had an artefact from every era since the dinosaur. It was amazing! It had old pots, farm machinery, furniture, and tools from every major new farming advancement since they invented farming. In fact, it had just about everything needed to start his very own museum of the complete history of Norfolk. Just to find this axe would probably take months, but I quickly informed him to let me know when he has a sort out because I would very much like to be there.

After finally getting over the disappointment of not seeing Seahenge we decided to walk down to the beach anyway to just get a feel of what it must have been like. It’s the 5^th August in the height of the holiday season on a lovely warm day, and here we are the whole family walking in a warm shallow sea on yet another deserted sandy beach. Behind us we can sea a handful of people about a mile away and the town of Old Hunstanton about 2 miles away in the distance. Ahead all we can see is sandy beach and a few people again about a mile or so in the distance. Just the feeling of all this space to us was amazing!

Ollie loved his time on the beach; what better for an active dog than a totally deserted beach where he could run, chase birds, and dig without disturbing anyone. This dog could dig for England, which was a bit of a problem if you were directly behind him as it didn’t take him long to cover you from head to toe in sand, as Tom could testify to!

I must admit I was disappointed not to find anything that even indicated an ancient structure was ever here, no plaque or monument, just an empty beach. We found a few bits of wood and stuff which we tried to convince ourselves were part of another undiscovered ancient structure but it just wasn’t quite the same.

We walked back along the coastal path. The Norfolk coast seems one long bird sanctuary with a combination of sand dunes and marshes. As such, it’s home to a number of birds, wildlife, flowers and some really smelly bogs. We crossed a small wooden bridge built over one particular black bog with small green things growing on it. I remember thinking something like “This is one hell of a smelly bog” and then the dog jumped in it!

“It doesn’t look to me like he’s enjoying that!” said a passer by sternly as I was trying to hold the dog upside down under the cold water tap outside the toilets.

“I’ll give the little sod not enjoying it” I half muttered in reply.

Back at the Motor home Kim and Laura spent hours cleaning him up in a more humane way. Only then was he allowed anywhere near inside.

Snettersham

When holidaying on a tight budget, the last place we needed to camp was close to somewhere that is likely to drain the wallet. So staying at the back of the Victoria Inn in Snettersham with its fine range of real ales did cause a few problems, but I was determined to put temptation aside, at least until later. The village itself was about 2 miles east of the Queens residence at Sandringham and was the perfect place to unwind after a busy 2 days at Skegness. We’d finally left Lincolnshire and were now in Norfolk.

“How far to the beach?” I asked. “It’s about a 45 minute walk, but it’s a beautiful route” replied the lady at the bar. Just over an hour later after crossing a busy road, walking through a dense wood, along the edge of a corn field, down a Farmers lane, through 2 meadows, over a river, through six foot high reeds and over a tall bank we were sitting on a fabulous deserted beach. Over in the distance across the Wash, we could see the wind farm opposite Skegness. It was hard to imagine a greater contrast from the noisy crowded resort 20 miles across the Wash to where we were sitting now.

We live on an island of 60 Million people and as this was now August and all the schools were closed it was the main holiday season. The recession and low value of the Pound meant that more people were staying at home this year and holidaying at the British Seaside. So where were they? We could see for about 2 miles in every direction, and not a soul. In the hour or so we walking we passed just 1 other couple. The dog loved it, he could run around, chase seagulls, dig in the sand and there was no-one to take offence. If he could describe paradise, this was probably as close as he would get. After about 20 minutes or so, looking out to sea we saw a canoeist battling against the tide and doing an admirable job, and then almost at the same time a couple of walkers came past on the coastal path. Where have all these three people come from? It was beginning to feel claustrophobic!

Walking back through the meadow, I’d almost forgotten just how pretty an English meadow can look in summertime. Along with the yellow and white flowers, there were more butterflies than I’d ever seen before; common White ones, Red Admirals and a beautiful blue variety. The sun seemed to reflect off their wings as they danced about. Not to be completely outdone there were these incredibly coloured dragonflies with either bright red or bright blue bodies. I could easily have spent hours just sitting there, but stomachs were rumbling and there was a long return walk ahead of us.

Back at the pub the temptation was too great and I had to sample the ales on tap. I made the mistake of taking Tom with me, who complained that, when I drink too much, I have a tendency to snore very loudly and have been known to pass wind. With this in mind I decided to do what any considerate father would do and had a couple more. It would serve him right for telling everyone that my blog was boring.

If Skegness was my idea of a holiday nightmare, then Hunstanton was probably closer to a holiday dream. After all the noise and fast paced entertainment we witnessed a couple of days previously it was so nice to be in a place where time seemed to pass just that little bit more slowly.

I particularly liked the large grassy area that stretched from the town to the promenade. Apparently there used to be a pier here but, after a series of accidents which first shortened it and the completely destroyed it, there now stands a new building which calls itself the Pier Family Entertainment Centre. Now here is where the holiday maker has a choice. Turn left and there is a funfair, amusement arcades etc, but turn right and there is landscape gardens and very distinctive multi coloured cliffs. I must have thought about it for a whole nano-second before heading towards the cliffs.

The cliff face has a very distinctive two tone effect, the lower half being a reddish colour which dates back over 100 million years, whilst the top white half is just a mere 65 million years old. Hunstanton faces the Wash, a roughly square inlet which measures approximately 10 miles across. As such, the water didn’t have the icy feel to it that the North Sea has. It was like walking in a heated paddling pool and was very pleasant, or at least it was until we stepped in the soft thick mud. Laura and I were trudging through this black treacle-like mud, which fortunately stopped at our knees. I must admit all those stories of quicksand swallowing people did briefly cross my mind. This didn’t seem to bother Ollie the dog who somehow managed to skim right over it.

We decided to take the much firmer route across the cliff top to get back to the town. The kids, being real lightweights, decided to take the road train with the dog whilst Kim and I decided to walk. It was lovely and firm with no mud and had great views across the Wash. We could quite clearly see the land on the other two sides of the square body of water.

When we finally got back to Hunstanton, the next job was to find the kids. As we have a very lively young teenager and an early twenty something,we naturally assumed that they would be over by the funfair or racing along the beach or something. But no, they were fast asleep on the green!

Before leaving Snettisham we had to look in the local bookshop. The lady who owns it is now in her seventies and so only opens Wednesday mornings, Fridays and Saturdays. As today was Wednesday we were in luck. She has been buying books for 33 years and the shop was amazing. It is basically a converted house with 2 rooms downstairs and a further 3 upstairs filled from floor to ceiling with books. I’d forgotten just how much fun it is looking through books to find something of interest, and the whole family found numerous books of interest. I asked her where all these books came from and she told me that when someone dies locally or moves away they sell the whole book collection to her. She has never been on the internet to buy or sell a book. It was so refreshing to see a place like this still exists in the modern world.

Ingoldmells

While growing up in Birmingham in the sixties, a holiday was one of the main yearly events we always looked forward to. To us in those days, foreign holidays were something rich people did and none of us had ever heard of exotic locations such as Disneyland. The ultimate holiday experience had to be Butlins at Skegness, but alas my parents were never able to stretch to such a holiday. I had to listen to my friends telling me about the all day entertainment, the huge swimming pool with slides, the direct access to the private beach, chips with every meal and best of all, the funfair which was totally free. I always put on a brave face and said that I really liked our holiday better which was usually spent in a caravan or less flashy Holiday camp such as Warners or Pontins. Inside though, I was seething.

Forty years later I’m driving past Butlins at Skegness and somehow it doesn’t quite have the mystique that I once imagined. The fun fair looks very small, the water complex doesn’t look that big, and the accommodation looks very basic. Either my friends greatly exaggerated or the rest of the holiday world has caught up and overtaken Butlins. Another explanation of course, is that I am still secretly very jealous of all my friends that used to go Butlins for their holidays. I must admit though, a week in Butlins is no longer one of my holiday wishes, especially as I now have the means to travel wherever I want to. “My Nan always used to take me to Butlins when I was little” Kim told me as we were driving away. “Did she now” I replied through clenched teeth.

We have holidayed in this area before, many years ago, and I must admit I hated it! This part of the coast just seems to consist of endless rows of static caravans, amusement arcades, fast food outlets, sweet shops and cheap clothing shops offering all the latest fashions from the sweat shops of Asia . I promised that on this holiday I wouldn’t spend time complaining about such things so as we walked in to Ingoldmells I promised to only look for the positives in this resort.

We came to Fantasy Island and a sign which said “The biggest open air market in Europe”. Putting aside the fact that it consisted of mainly cheap gift shops, sweet shops and all the latest fashions from the sweat shops of Asia, the amazing thing is that it is right underneath the roller coasters of Fantasy Island. Listening to people screaming and watching them being flung around on a corkscrew roller coaster almost made the shopping experience bearable (I did say almost). I think Kim and Laura would have really enjoyed shopping there but I momentarily dropped my guard and started complaining about the fact that all the shops seemed to be selling the same stuff as everywhere else on the resort and there seemed no evidence of any local produce. I think they were glad to get me out of there.

After a couple of hours in Ingoldmells , I’d heard the song “Blockbuster” by Sweet being played. I can remember hearing it last time I was here about 15 years ago, which got me thinking. I was about 12 When this record came out which must have been around 1973, and although I really liked it when I first heard it, after numerous plays on the radio and “Top of the Pops” I grew sick of it. Can you imagine living or working here for all that time and having to listen to the same crap record over and over every day for 36 years? It would be enough to send you clinically insane. All I can say is that I’m really glad that the Birdie Song has not passed the test of time. Quite clearly my mission to be positive was not going well. “It’s because you are a grumpy old fart” Kim told me, and looking round at all the smiley faces of happy holiday makers, she probably had a point.

We decided to go back to the camp site for a bit of peaceful relaxation. We were camped at a place called

Acres Farm which was about 20 minutes outside the resort and run by very friendly people who made us feel very welcome. Sitting outside the Motor home writing this it felt like a different world to the one we’d just left in the main resort. When we’d arrived earlier, we’d been greeted by another family on holiday and their 2 dogs, a Golden Labrador and a Cocker Spaniel called “Sparky” The owner of Sparky told us that they had picked him up from a rescue centre just a few days ago. The dog had been badly treated by his previous owner which was evident in the way he looked at you with those sorrowful eyes that made your heart melt. Whilst the Labrador bounded along, Sparky just stood there as if to say “I want to play but just don’t know how”. The biggest problem is that Sparky just wouldn’t walk on his lead, and we sat and watched numerous attempts by all the family to get him to walk. “I don’t know if we’ll ever get him to walk on his lead” the lady told us, “Yes he will” we all reassured her, and so we all tried our combined skills and ideas to get Sparky to walk. After about half an hour of offers of treats and encouragement the sorrowful eyes finally persuaded us to give up. “Poor Sparky, what a shame” could be heard as they carried him back to the caravan.

Skegness is the biggest resort along the east coast and as there is very little in the way of spectacular scenery on this part of the coast. Skegness has had to create its own holiday experience and as such it has taken the English holiday resort idea to the extreme. Between the main road and the beach is a row of fun fairs, swimming pools, crazy golf and a boating lake. The other side of the road is a collection of B&B’s, amusement arcades, bingo halls, and sweet shops. It has everything a family could need to keep the kids happy, and enough ice cream and chip shops to ensure there is enough sustenance to keep energy levels up to maximum.

We were there on the first Sunday in August on the first dry warm day we had enjoyed for a while, and the town was heaving. Everywhere that is, except the beach. Skegness has one

of the cleanest, sandiest, safest beaches in England and yet it was almost deserted. It seemed quite surreal, as soon as we crossed over the walkway which separated the town from the beach there was a real feeling of space and calmness.

When I was last here, looking out to sea meant looking at a flat empty horizon only occasionally broken by the odd ship passing by. Now, looking out to sea means staring at a giant wind farm. Wind farms have grown considerably over the last few years and are very much part of the Governments’ plan to achieve a bigger proportion of energy being derived from green sources. This has led to a lot of public debate, with groups on one side pushing for more wind farms and those on the other side of the debate who see them as an eyesore. “I quite like them” said Kim “It’squite therapeutic sitting watching the blades go round” I sat watching them for about 5 minutes or so and was just about to enter that calm meditative state where the universe all seems to fall in to balance when I heard a voice behind me say “You’d think they’d find somewhere else to put them instead of right in front of the bloody beach”. As I said, Wind farms are quite a contentious issue.

Despite all the advances in new and more thrilling forms of entertainment, kids still love a ride on a donkey. I started to wonder who it was that first thought of Donkey rides on the beach, because whoever it was, they created something that really has stood the test of time. These particular donkeys were not just any old beach donkeys, they were award winning donkeys having won awards 5 years in a row. Quite what is needed to win an award I couldn’t find out, they seemed to do what every other donkey does which is walk about a hundred yards and back carrying a smiling kiddie, but these Donkeys obviously did it with style.

There were lots of things for young kids to do in Skegness, but when you have a 22 year old and a 15year old it gets a bit more of a challenge, until we got to the pier. There was this harness suspended over a trampoline by four pieces of strong elastic. “I have got to have a go on that” said Laura, “and me” said Tom. I‘m not sure whether the screams were of sheer delight or sheer fright, but it kept them occupied for 10 minutes or so. “How about we go see the new Harry Potter film” was the next suggestion. “Is there a cinema in Skegness?” I asked the guy in the shop. “ It’s right by the clock tower”, he said, “You can’t miss it”. I wasn’t sure whether I couldn’t miss the clock tower or the cinema, as the former is very much easy to find but, look as hard as we could, we couldn’t find the 12 screen Multiplex that passes for a cinema down our way. After 10 minutes of being too embarrassed to ask for further directions we found a poster outside an Amusement Arcade advertising “Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince”. “You don’t think it’s in there do you?” We had found it.

We left the kids to their film and hopped on the bus back to the campsite. My phone bleeped to tell me I had a message “It’s like watching a film on a Plasma TV and listening to a dodgy old stereo in some one’s back room.” There is no pleasing some people.

After a day and a bit in the Skegness area it was time to reassess how I felt about the place. It had everything a family could want plus plenty of pubs and clubs offering entertainment, and of course it had a wonderful beach with a spectacular view of a wind farm and the award winning donkeys. After careful consideration and weighing up all that was on offer I had to grudgingly admit, I still really hated the place.

Back in Ingoldmells on the campsite we decided, as it was Sunday afternoon and afternoon naps were now something that was not just for old people, to have a nap. I lay on the sun lounger, opened a beer and then the 12 year old son of Sparky’s owner ran over, the dog following him. “Look - Sparky’s walking on his lead” He told us with a smile that went from ear to ear. You couldn’t help but feel touched, and at last I had found the positive I’d been searching for.

Trusthorpe

When I was a kid, going to the seaside meant sticking to a strict but essential agenda. First we had to find a place on the beach, then buy a bucket and spade to build sandcastles and dig very big holes. This was usually followed by a game of beach cricket, all briefly interrupted by the occasional venture down to the sea. For lunch we had Fish and Chips followed by a whipped ice cream with a flake in it. Later we would go to the funfair and then empty all of my dad’s loose change in to the numerous penny arcades. Before going home we would buy a jar of sweet pebbles and some sticks of rock for my mates.

We now of course live in a very different age, one of 24 hour TV entertainment, Game consoles, internet, and mobile phones. Things would now surely be very different for a kid of today at the seaside. But here in Mablethorpe, everything I wanted as a kid was still there, the shop selling beach toys, the fun fair and arcades, the chip shops and sweet shops. They were all exactly the same as I remembered it from my younger days. It seems that today’s generation has the very same agenda as I had at the seaside.

I can remember once buying my Mom a cheap shell ornament from a shop that sold almost exclusively shell related items, and here I was in just such a shop. I asked the lady if they still sold the big shells that, when you put them against your ear, you could hear the sea. “The shops full of them” she said and just to prove the point her husband picked one up and placed it against my ear. “It’s the blood in your ear making the sound” he told me, which sort of spoilt the mystery of it all, but at least I now know the science behind it.

I had recently been to a business seminar entitled “The only permanent thing in life is change”. Obviously the author had not just come back from a weekend in Mablethorpe.

We were staying in a place called Trusthorpe, which was positioned almost exactly between the 2 very popular seaside resorts of Mablethorpe and Sutton on Sea. The site itself was called “Old Garth Cottages”, which comprised of a field big enough for about 6 caravans or Motorhomes. The beauty of it, though, was it’s location to the beach. Quite simply all you needed to do was walk through a gate, climb up a bank and there was the beach. Next door was a holiday complex with a nice little club and, tonight being Thursday, was Bingo night. Now I normally avoid Bingo like the plague, as my experience is of a Bingo caller talking in a monotone voice and lots of old ladies saying “shush” to anyone who dare speak. On this night though, when I needed just 2 more numbers to win the star prize of £60, I was hanging on to the caller’s every word and telling the person next to me to “Shush”. Some very rich person who didn’t need the money as much as I did then shouted out that he’d won and I hated him. It’s probably best I leave the Bingo alone for a while.

On this trip the kids had both got better offers and decided not come, which left just me, Kim and Ollie the dog. We decided we were going to have a very relaxing few days just taking it easy. Unfortunately, Ollie had a totally different agenda. From the moment we pulled up he knew exactly where we were and the direction to the sea. Within minutes he was dragging me up the hill to the beach. In the short space between getting there and going to bed he had 3 runs on the beach and a mile long walk to Sutton and back. At least he will sleep well and allow us to lie-in a bit later. No chance! At 6 am he was awake and ready to go. By 6.45 I had given up all hope of pacifying him and got dressed for a mile long walk along the beach. At this time in the morning the beach was totally deserted. The beach runs from Cleethorpes in the North Down to The Wash in the South. A total of around 50 miles, and at this time in the morning it seemed we had the whole thing to ourselves. Not another human being or dog for as far as the eye could see in either direction.

On the way back I did pass someone. “Morning” I said, to which he grunted something back. I got the impression that on this 50 mile stretch of beach I was invading his space.

After a short breakfast Ollie was ready to go again. This dog was the Canine equivalent of a Super Duracell battery. Scientists have spent Billions of pounds in research to discover the sort of energy this dog has got. After half an hour or so of walking and throwing a ball for him, we ended up in Sutton on Sea, where a rest was very much needed (for me that is, the dog still had tons of energy left). We managed a cup of tea outside a seaside café before looking around the town.

From the seaside, Sutton is almost identical as Mablethorpe, however once off the beach it is very different. Apart from one beach shop, there was none of the shops selling Confectionary and beach gear, and no funfair or amusement arcades. The whole place just seemed that little bit more mature, and that was certainly true of the people wondering up and down the High Street. I may have got it totally wrong, but it seemed just the sort of place where people came to buy a retirement home. The people we met were very friendly and it seemed just the sort of place I would be happy to retire to. “It’s like God’s waiting room here” I heard someone say. It was hard not to disagree.

One of the things that became very noticeable in both Mablethorpe and Sutton was the number of beach huts. This is something that really intrigued me, so I did a bit of research in to what these were all about. Beach huts are either owned by the local Council and hired out for around £65 per week, or privately owned. A privately owned one costs around £9,000 and for that you get an 8’ x 6’ wooden shed. This works out at around £1.50 per sq foot per week to rent or £187.50 per sq foot to buy. This is serious real estate for something that can only be used for, at best, half the year and can only be used during the hours of daylight. If you are lucky, you get a tap and the facilities to make a cup of tea. If you are not quite so lucky, you get an 8’ x 6’ brightly painted garden shed. And even if you buy one, the land is still owned by the Council and so you have to pay £100 per year ground rent. But people seem to love them, and I can easily see why. On a summers day it must be great to sit and watch the world go by in the comfort of your own deckchair outside your very own garden shed right on the edge of the beach. And when it rains you just move inside and drink tea.

The coolest Beach Hut by far was a metal structure with a large glass sliding door. It was the sort of glass that was a mirror on the outside and clear on the inside, so you can see out, but nobody can see in. Just imagine sitting inside behind the glass and watching people walking past pulling their stomachs in as they look at their reflection in the glass.

After the excitement of the Bingo the previous night, we thought we’d wonder back to the club to see what entertainment they had laid on. Tonight was Karaoke, and the bar was full. The old dears were having a great time singing songs from the fifties and sixties. There were delightful renditions of songs by Frank Sinatra, Elvis Presley ballads and the like. A couple in their eighties who had apparently only recently met and got engaged, were smooching around the room. “I wonder” I said “If anyone has ever had the nerve to go up there and sing Ian Dury’s Sex and Drugs and Rock and Roll”. “Go on then I dare you” Kim challenged me. The looks I got reminded me of the ones I got when I first played the record to my Dad 30 odd years ago.

It was mid April and, according to the weatherman, we were enjoying temperatures well into double figures, however the northerly wind, although not particularly strong, was making it feel closer to zero. After three days of wandering up and down the beach, it had managed to force its way through my clothes, through my skin and was now gnawing at my bones. As we had a dog with us, we couldn’t just call in to a café to warm up. Fortunately, overlooking the beach was a pub (aptly called “The Beach”) which had a large sign in the window announcing “Dogs are allowed in this room”. We didn’t need a second invitation. The food was very basic but very good and reasonably priced. I would happily have paid a lot more for a lot less just to get out of the wind for a while. Ollie was finally showing signs of tiredness. It had taken us three days but I think the “Duracell dog” was finally starting to run low on energy.

I enjoyed the short break in Trusthorpe, but have to admit I was quite looking forward to moving back inland to where the weather actually felt like summer was not so far away.

Cleethorpes

“You can tell when you hit Grimsby because of the smell of fish” I told everyone as we passed the sign for Great Grimsby. Trouble was there wasn’t any fishy smells at all, even when I wound the window down. This has to be the first time I’ve ever been here and not smelt the fish docks. It’s probably because I normally come to Grimsby in the middle of the day at a time when the docks are in full swing and on this occasion I’m here at 6.30 on a Friday evening.

In its heyday Grimsby had the largest fishing port in Europe, but alas cuts in fishing quotas and the emergence of other ports around Europe have meant that the docks are not quite what they used to be. It has however had a bit of a windfall recently, according to the BBC website, as Icelandic fishermen are now prepared to sail for an extra day and a half to land their catch at Grimsby. The reason is quite simply, if they land at Grimsby they get paid. Following the collapse of the Icelandic banking system there is no money to pay the fishermen, and so they have to look elsewhere to land their catch. One thing’s for sure, we won’t go short of a fish supper or two this weekend.

Cleethorpes is now part of Great Grimsby, so coming from the Grimsby direction in what looked like an area that had seen better times, we only knew we had reached our destination when we passed a sign which said “Welcome to Cleethorpes”. Then we went over a roundabout and it all changed; a nice neat row of B&B’s, then around a corner and straight on to Cleethorpes sea front.

We were camping at the far end of the resort at a Haven holiday centre. We used to go to Haven a lot in years gone by, both for family get-togethers, where there would be up to 30 family relatives meeting up for the weekend, and for cheap family holidays when the kids were small. After a few years of watching the same entertainment and drinking poor quality, over priced beer, we decided this kind of holiday was not for us and vowed never to return. But, as the only campsite we could find open anywhere near Cleethorpes was a Haven site, we had to take it. Laura and Kim certainly got in to the spirit of things by singing the songs they learned at the Haven Tiger club when they were younger, whilst Teenager-Tom sat there with his head in his hands! We had also heard rumours that the site had been re-developed and was of a much higher standard these days (yeah right!)

First impressions were very good, with an excellent pitch for the motor home. Not only was there standard electric hook-up, but the pitch also had a fresh water tap and drainage for the waste. It meant we could use as much water as we needed without having to drive to the Service Point each day to empty and refill our water tanks. The only annoyance was that every lamp post had an advert on it for owning a Haven Static caravan, and a security camera was permanently fixed on our van. They all seemed to imply that owning a static and staying on the same pitch every year was somehow superior to having the freedom to travel the world. Either they were getting desperate for sales or they have an over eager marketing department. At least they haven’t stooped so low as to have touts on every street corner with scratch cards like they do in Spanish resorts, well at least not yet.

After dinner we decided to try out the Entertainment centre, excited to see if the rumours about higher standards were true. But alas we found little evidence of anything changing when we entered the complex. There were 2 bars either end of the centre, however to reach them you had to walk through a very large amusement arcade. Fortunately our kids are beyond the age of hassling for all your change to feed the machines, but it still seemed a little oppressive. Even the main Cabaret hall had a section with about 2 dozen arcade machines. It’s almost as though they are trying to create a mini Las Vegas but without the glitz and the prize money.

After ordering our over priced poor quality beer it was time to sit down and watch the Cabaret. We knew it was about to start because a lady told us “The Cabaret is going to start in 5 minutes, just enough time to go get a drink”. This was then immediately followed by a man telling us “The Cabaret is just about to start, so go and get your self a drink from the bar”. I then expected a large bouncer to come along and shout “Right you lot go to that bar and GIVE US YOUR MONEY”. It sounds cynical but that’s exactly how I felt whilst in the centre. To me it felt that they are willing to entice you in to the camp with reasonably price accommodation and once in the complex they would work really hard on trying to extract every last penny of our holiday spending money. Then once you’ve run out there’s a convenient cash point machine which charges £1.20 to draw out some more.

The Cabaret consisted of 3 guys performing hits we all know well from the early seventies with a few impersonations thrown in. The music was by means of a recorded soundtrack so it was obvious that the guitarist was miming. It was a real shame the singers weren’t miming too. They started acting out “Top of The Pops” from the early seventies with Jimmy Saville introducing Demis Roussos. Looking round it was hard to spot anyone over 40 so I wondered just how many people had actually ever heard of Demis Roussos, or Jimmy Saville for that matter. At this point we thought we’d try the other bar. “What’s that lady screeching for “I asked when entering the other bar, “Its karaoke night” came the reply. We decided to go back to the van for a nightcap.

We’d had a very wet night and in the morning, although the rain had stopped, it was very windy. At the back of the site there is a coastal walkway that goes straight in to Cleethorpes, and a narrow gauge railway which for £2.50 saves you the walk. Unfortunately the train was just leaving the station as we arrived, so it was a walk in to a very fierce North Easterly wind. As we were a mere 2,517 miles from the North Pole the wind was a tad frosty and, although the path was a very flat tarmac one, it took a bit of effort to walk through the wind.

Cleethorpes has everything a typical English seaside resort would be expected to have. A nice wide seafront, a sandy beach, a funfair, pier, fish and chip shops, and the typical English seaside shops selling buckets and spades and other essentials for a day on the beach. Except Cleethorpes is a bit of a fraud. It’s not on the sea and is therefore not a seaside town. Cleethorpes looks out over the Humber Estuary, and the sea doesn’t begin for a few miles further round down the coast. In fact when we looked directly over the estuary and slightly eastward we could see the light house we walked to on our last trip.

The town itself, however, does look as though it is in need of a makeover. The Southerly end looks neat enough, but the further you walk in to the centre the more run down it started to look. We stopped at the entrance to the pier and bought a cup of tea, but then made the mistake of venturing on to the pier. By the time we got halfway most of the tea had been blown right out of the cup. This was one serious wind which, to make matters worse, had started to pick up steam and some dark clouds were looming over us. We tried to walk a little further along the edge of the beach but gave up, as even the dog was trying to find shelter. “Not a good day’s business for the donkeys” I heard someone say as I looked at 4 donkeys huddled together on the beach. Their handlers looked very miserable as they sat in front of them with their backs to the wind. I can’t say I blame them.

We took it in shifts to go and eat in the fish and chip restaurant, and look after the dog. I was more than ready by the time it was mine and Kim’s turn. The restaurant offered a little respite from the weather but not completely as the place was a little draftee to say the least. However for £6.50 we had a sit down meal of Haddock, chips, mushy peas, bread and butter and a cup of tea (with free refill). It was just marvellous.

On the way back we decided to shelter in a pub called Willys which served its own brand of Willys best bitter from its very own brewery for less than £2 a pint. The kids had gone back to the campsite, so we found it very hard to pass by without checking out how good the brewery was. It was excellent and as it also sold Kim’s favourite cider, “Old Rosie”, we were both very satisfied. I’m not much of a cider drinker, but have to agree that on a warm summer day “Old Rosie” does taste really good and very refreshing. It tastes like the apples have been freshly picked and squeezed that morning, so sitting in the sun drinking a few pints of the stuff is a very pleasant way of spending an afternoon. It’s only when you then get up to try and walk anywhere you realise that at around 8% ABV it does do some very strange things to your general co-ordination.

The following morning we decided to get up early and venture further up the coast. I’d like to say it was because we wanted to make full use of our day, but the real reason was because if we stayed on the site after 10am we would be charged an extra £2. This task was made even harder by the fact that today was the start of British summer time and so the clocks had gone forward, meaning the loss of an hours sleep.

The weather couldn’t have been any more different from yesterday with a bright blue sky and no wind at all. We stopped at Saltfleet to give the dog a run on the beach. We did hit a couple of problems. First of all to get to the beach we had to walk through a flooded Salt marsh and then there was a sign informing us that anything we touched there may explode and kill us. We were less than 2 miles from a RAF firing range, and that was close enough for the odd missile to land off target. We decide to walk the path along the marsh instead and then back to the van for a full cooked breakfast.

The area around Saltfleet is part of the Humber Estuary Conservation area, which is one of the 10 most important sites in Europe. It is home to literally hundreds of rare and endangered species of birds, animals and fish. It is also a breeding ground for seals and we were told that, if we came back in the autumn, the beach would be full of seals with their pups.

We stopped off at the Seal Sanctuary on the Northern end of Mablethorpe, but before visiting the sanctuary we thought it would be a good idea to give the dog some much needed exercise. We have a dog who loves to run, and so what could be better than a few miles of almost totally deserted sandy beach. The beach didn’t have as much as a pebble on it, just clean golden sand stretching for miles in either direction. As soon as we let him off his lead he just ran and ran until he was no more than a black spec in the distance. Just as we started to panic, thinking we had lost Ollie for good, he turned round and came back towards us. He stopped for just a moment to see if we were alright before running off in the opposite direction until he was a black spec at the other end of the beach.

I loved the Seal Sanctuary and I think the rest of our party did too. The place was originally set up to look after stricken seals, either as cubs which had lost their mothers or older seals that had been involved in accidents with fishing lines. The idea of the centre is to nurse them until they are either old enough or well enough to go back in to the wild. There are a handful of seals with injuries too severe to be let back in to the sea, so they became permanent residents of the seal sanctuary, spending their days entertaining the visitors and being fed fish.

It’s not just seals that are cared for at the sanctuary. Just about any wild animal or bird can be accommodated and cared for until ready to go back in to the wild. There was a large collection of birds such as owls, kestrels, pigeons and assorted sea birds, along with foxes and badgers. All the animals seemed to be there as a result of an accident involving humans, mainly from road traffic. I felt a lot of admiration for the people who run and work the sanctuary as their dedication to the animals was very evident for all to see.

We wanted to park up and take a look around Mablethorpe, but the difficulty with parking a Motor home was to find a car park that allowed us in. If it didn’t have a height barrier it had a large sign saying Motor homes prohibited. We eventually found a space further down the coast next to the sea and so, after another run for Ollie, we set off home to plan the next part of the Mission.

The East Riding of Yorkshire

Skipsea – Mr Moos Farm and Caravan site.

Why Skipsea as a starting point ? It all started last September when we decided it would be a great challenge to go all the way round the coast of mainland UK in our newly acquired Motorhome, for the record a Burstner Levanto 6 berth. The question was where do we start? We talked long and hard about where would be the best place to start the journey of a lifetime, and whether we head North or South. It all got settled when we ended up in Bridlington for an afternoon following a trip to a Motorhome show in York. So it was decided that we start on the East coast and work our way down.

So it was on Valentines Day 2009 we arrived at Mr Moos, a farm devoted to producing its own ice cream and selling 18 or so different varieties in its own ice cream parlour. As it was still winter and the field next to the farm was a little boggy, the caravan site was temporarily situated at the end of the car park.

The family group consists of Myself , wife Kim, grown up daughter Laura and Tom ( why do I have to be here, I’m totally bored ) the 14 year old teenager.

As well as being Valentines Day, it was also that once a year occasion when England play Wales in the 6 Nations rugby. So after the disappointment of not being able to get a television signal from my Motor home aerial, I was forced to walk in to the village to find a local pub with a television. The pub I found was called The Board and it turned out to be an absolute gem, full of locals who were very welcoming, and it wasn’t long before we heard a few traveller’s tales of their own. A few beers later we left with lot’s of “good lucks” and a sense that after an hour or two we were already part of the community. It’s just a shame that England lost the rugby, but then that’s another story.

The following morning we decided to take a walk along the cliff tops. A footpath adjacent to Mr Moos led us straight to the coast and so we took a walk along the latest cliff path. I say latest because this coasts claim to fame is that it’s the fastest eroding part of the UK coastline with an average erosion of approximately a meter per year. I spoke to a local later in the day and he told me that at Skipsea they lost 18 feet of land this year to the sea. Walking up close to the edge you could easily see how this erosion was taking place, although standing too close was a dangerous thing to do as much of the edge looked as though it could give way at any minute.

After about a mile or so we came across the first of a series of caravan sites, the first of which was about 10 meters from the sea. With the average rate of erosion that would give them no more than 10 years before being lost forever. Further along a caravan was so close we had to walk single file to get between it and the sea. Speaking to a caravan owner who has a unit about 50 meters away from the edge, he told me that they fully expect the site to disappear in around 30 years or so. They do move the caravans once the cliffs get too close but there have been occasions where the caravans have literally toppled on to the beach below. If I had invested in a caravan by the sea I would probably feel quite stressed about the situation, but most of the owners seem to accept their fate and take it as part of the price for owning a unit in such a prime location.

After a brief visit to Skirlington market for a quick lunch we headed back, but this time along the beach. The beaches in this part of the world are fabulous, however I was told to expect them to be very cold at this time of the year, with as one person put it “There’s nothing between you and the Russian Steppes”. However we hit lucky and we had sunshine and a calm Southerly breeze, and it was hard to believe that a week earlier this whole area was covered in about 12” of snow. Ollie the dog was in his element with over 2 miles of near deserted beach he had all the room in the world to chase seagulls and run him self ragged.

One of the things Thomas noticed was the concrete bunkers left over from World War 2. Although it’s been over 60 years since they served any purpose they are still very much intact, and look ready to be brought back in to service should the need ever arise. Considering they were built to withstand heavy bombardment from tanks and such like, its there is very little nature can do to break them down. So they will most likely stay there intact until the day comes when the soil is washed away form beneath them and like everything else along this coast they will be buried beneath the sea.

After a 2 mile walk along the beach we were back at Mr Moos to try another flavour of ice cream or 2. Mr Moos ice cream parlour is fabulous and apart from the odd sandwich at lunch time is devoted entirely to ice cream and ice cream sundaes of almost every description. I was a little less adventurous and had a plain cone, but there was a lot of “take a look at that” at some of the dishes being served. One dish we saw almost filled a standard dinner plate. That was a lot of ice cream.

Outside the parlour there is a viewing platform overlooking the cow shed so you get a chance to say a personal thank you to the cows responsible for the necessary raw ingredient.

"Whats that noise?"

I vaguely remember the dig in the ribs.

"whhattt nooooisee" I replied in the way that people do when asked this sort of question at 3 in the morning.

"The deep humming noise, can you hear it?"

I couldn't hear anything, but it slowly dawned on me that I would be required to investigate. So I climbed down the ladder to start investigating.

The normal human reaction is to start listening to all the appliances to find out which one was making the noise, and as I considered myself a normal human that's what I did. I listened to the fridge, the boiler, the switched off television, all seemed OK, whatever was making the noise was coming from outside. I fumbled around for my shoes and coat, aand at 3 am on a cold February morning outside i nothing more than my Pyjamas and thin coat. It was bloody freezing! The first thing I checked was the engine. Now the engine had not been used for nearly 2 days, but as I was still half in dreamland I never really thought it through before putting my ear to the bonnet.

Then it dawned on me. I walked around to the back of the van and stood inbetween the van and the cow shed. It was the middle of the night and dark. The cows in the shed were sleeping soundly, so soundly they were snoring!

The following morning we move off to continue our journey south stopping first of all on the sea front in Hornsea. Here in Hornsea they take coastal erosion very seriously with a large concrete sea wall between the beach and elevated sea front. I can imagine in around a hundred years or so that Hornsea will look like a man made island with the surrounding land eroded in to the sea. If you looked far off to the north you could already see that the cliffs were already receding back beyond the town.

The beach at this time of year was very quiet and so Ollie had another chance to let off steam and partake in his favourite past time of chasing seagulls and playing fetch without disturbing anyone. As the beach is divided by breakers we almost literally had our very own stretch of beach to ourselves.

Although our visit to Hornsea was brief, our first impression was that it looked a very nice clean seaside town without the overbearing row upon row of shops selling cheap buckets and spades and “kiss me quick hats”. Whether or not it stayed like this in high season is another matter, but on a mild day in mid February Hornsea was a very pleasant place to be.

We headed south towards Withernsea. This part of the UK is very flat but we passed through some very pretty villages which more than made up for the lack of scenery. On entering Withernsea the first thing we saw was an old lighthouse in the middle of the town. It was open from the 1st of April, however as we were at least 6 weeks early and struggling to find somewhere to park the motor home we had to make do with a drive past. We drove to the sea front but apart from a new looking castle structure it didn’t look too different from Hornsea. Rather than try to find a car park without a height barrier we decided to move on, and picked up a sign for an underground bunker which looked very interesting. When we arrived a notice told us that it was open for a one and half hour tour every Saturday and Sunday, but as we were here on a Monday we were once again out of luck.

After negotiating a long winding single track road we ended up in the tiny village of Kilnsea which had a small free car park with no height barrier. I really thought that this was the most Southern point of the East Yorkshire coast but then noticed a light house further south in the distance. This then gave us a real quandary because if we are to see the whole of the UK then we really should make it to the most Southerly tip of the Yorkshire coast. As the road looked rather too narrow to take the Motorhome down, the only way of reaching the area was on foot. I can remember saying “it doesn’t look that far” so we decided to give it a go (an hour or so and 3 miles later I was beginning to regret making that statement). Unfortunately after the first hundred yards or so we reached a point which said “Nature Reserve, Strictly no dogs passed this point” The kids both volunteered to look after the dog as Kim and I ventured on. If the kids were disappointed at not being able to go on they did a splendid job of hiding it.

The area we were heading for was called Spurn and it was shaped like a long bent finger with the sea on one side and the Humber estuary on the other. At its narrowest point there is only about 50 meters separating the two, however as we ventured further toward the end the land opened up with a small meadow with Highland cattle grazing. There were also remains of a railway track at various points along the path. I found out later that this was used during the First World War to connect the fort at Kilnsea with the outposts at the end of the peninsular. Remains of the fort can still be seen at Kilnsea as a pile of broken concrete following its fall on to the beach due to land erosion.

After about an hour or so of walking we eventually reached the light house, however our joy was short lived as it became apparent that the lighthouse was not situated on the very tip and the road carried on further. As it was getting late and we were starting to feel quite exhausted we decided to do what anyone in our position would consider and cheat. We climbed the large dune at the back of the lighthouse where we got a view of the end of the peninsular. We were surprised to see a group of about 10 or so houses next to the jetty. I later found out that this is the only full time manned Lifeboat station in the UK. This also explained the number of cars with a RNLI sticker on the back window which passed us while we were walking.

We decided to walk back along the beach which, apart from the ruins of some old timber sea defences, looked as wild and untouched as any beach should look. We could see for about 2 miles along the deserted beach. If not for a few large cargo ships you could easily imagine being the only people on the planet.

When we left the beach and went back on to the road we witnessed the start of a stunning sunset over the Humber estuary. The colours of the sky ranged from deep orange to purple, and it was made even more spectacular by the reflection off the Humber Estuary. Although it was a long walk done at a tiring pace, the evening view across the estuary seemed to make it all worthwhile.

One of the great things about owning a Motor home with grown up kids in is that with about a mile to go on our walk we can call them up to order dinner. It was nice to come back to a hot pasty and cup of tea before having to go home.

I had never considered the East Riding of Yorkshire as a holiday destination before and was unsure what to expect. I was very impressed by both the landscape, especially the beaches, and the friendliness of the people I met. As this is the starting point of our journey, it will also be our finishing point. In a landscape that is being forever changed by the power of the sea, it will be interesting when we finally get back here to see how it has changed. I would certainly consider coming back here for a holiday at some time in the future, but for now we had to head back following the Humber estuary in land and then over the Humber bridge to home. The funny thing was that Tom the teenager who didn’t want to come, was now complaining because it was time to go home.

The Mission

The Mission

Last year I finally achieved one of my life long ambitions, and that was to own a Motor Home. The idea was that after a stressful week at work I could pack my family in to the van and take off somewhere at a moments notice and just chill out in a field , but still have all the creature comforts of home. So now we had a nice shiny Motor Home complete with cooking facilities, a large fridge freezer, toilet and shower, and of course a nice comfy bed to sleep in. The problem was it didn’t quite turn out like we planned, there was always something got in the way. It was either we couldn’t decide where to go or something else cropped up that took precedence, or we just felt too lazy to go and fetch it out of the compound. Something quite clearly had to be done, we needed a ”Mission”, something that would drive us on to use it, something that was so exciting that we would purposely look for time off.

A flash of inspiration came whilst watching an episode of “The Coast” on television. I’d never seen the programme before and haven’t done since, but watching it gave me an idea. We have this great Motor Home so why not travel the coast of the UK and discover the places, people and history of our very diverse coastline. The next job was to sell the idea to my wife Kim, and fortunately it was quite an easy sell. She seemed to be as keen on the idea as I was.

The problem was as we were both in full time work and had Thomas, our youngest, still at school this was something we would have to do in small chunks at a time. It means finding a weekend here and there, or a few long weekends etc, as well as using our summer holiday time. All in all we expect it to take around 10-12 years to complete the journey. But the idea had been born and one day in February just as the heaviest snowfall in almost 20 years had almost thawed away we set out on our “Mission”.