Day 83 – Flimby to Siloth

After the irritations of yesterday, everything proceeds pretty much to plan today. A good breakfast cooked and served by a man who admits to being a Chelsea supporter (so he’s happy that Spurs were pegged back to one-all by West Brom last night) and Flimby Colin arrives at 8:45 to take us back to yesterday’s finishing point. He also says that he may well be able to take us from Siloth to Carlisle this afternoon but that we should phone to confirm later this morning. We get a bit of beach (or shingle) action as soon as we leave Flimby, but then need to go back up to the coast road in order to get round Maryport harbour and marina. After that….well, it’s low tide and a wide stretch of firm sand extends before us all the way to Allonby. It’s a bright clear day; we think we can make out the Isle of Man to the west; and the views over the Solway Firth to Scotland are pretty special. If it wasn’t for the rather “brisk” northerly breeze in our faces, it would be absolutely perfect. We reach Allonby after a couple of hours, and John pops back to The Ship to collect the phone charger which he’s realised he left there earlier. A phone call to Flimby Colin also confirms his availability at 2:30 this afternoon, and he says that we should meet him outside the tattoo parlour in Siloth which, we have to assume, isn’t a sprawling bustling metropolis! The next section from Allonby to just beyond Mawbray involves occasional diversions from the beach into the dunes and what are apparently called “raised beaches” but, during the final hour or so on the approach to Siloth, we can once again stay on the sands – albeit, with the tide coming in, we need to keep edging progressively closer to the shoreline. When we eventually move up into the dunes, we are greeted by the rather splendid sight of Siloth on Solway Golf Course which we walk around, passing the club house, before entering Siloth itself. And it isn’t sprawling. Essentially, it’s the crossroads of a couple of streets, and the tattoo parlour is on the street leading in from the golf course. It’s 2:20 and, after postcard purchase at a shop on the crossroads, we phone Flimby Colin and ascertain that he’s almost with us. A couple of minutes later, he is. We’ve walked just over 15 miles – without rushing unduly – and have arrived at practically the same time as our transport. Ben takes the front seat for the 50 minute drive, hearing quite a bit about the floods in the area during the course of the journey. We get to Carlisle in good time for our trains and make arrangements with our “chauffeur” to do the return trip when we arrive in Carlisle for our next walk in three weeks time. For now, rather than catch the London train for part of the way, John is going to wait for the slightly later Birmingham train. However, we have enough time to sit and have a can of cider each, conveniently (but somewhat expensively) provided by a Costa Coffee outlet adjacent to “our” platform.