Day 103 – Seaham to Hartlepool

It somehow seems strange to have a full English breakfast in an Italian restaurant, and a cracking brekker it is too. We’re away shortly after 8 o’clock and, after a 45 minute stroll along the sea front, we climb up into an area which is reminiscent of some parts of the South West Coast Path. It’s a track through a stretch of woodland above the coast, and involves a series of short descents and ascents in order to reach and cross some narrow inlets from the sea. But after our third or fourth ascent/descent near Horden, and before climbing again, we look out at the shoreline. Lo and behold, the tide times have worked in our favour because the sea is going out and there’s a beach extending for what could be a couple of miles up to the next headland. It would be churlish not to take advantage of this and, as we walk, the tide goes further out so that, by the time we reach the headland, we’re able easily to walk round it and reach another long stretch of bright and almost deserted sand. A glorious way to spend much of the morning because, as it transpires, we’re on the beach for over two hours and, by the time we have to leave it, we’re almost at Hartlepool Golf Club. Once past the course, we’re only a mile or so from the centre of Hartlepool as the crow flies, but we have the time to  maintain purity and keep following the coastline around a headland known as The Heugh to the east of the town and then back towards the centre through a very smart marina where our coastal walk comes to an end. Once again, we’ve completed around 18 miles in about 6 hours and there’s still a couple of hours until our train is due to leave. However, rather than have something to eat and drink at one of the attractive establishments at the marina, we decide to get the walk into town of 20 minutes or so out of the way and have our lunch closer to the station. Initially, this seems to be a very poor decision because the centre is a bit run down and several establishments which might have been bars appear to be shut, or shut down. These include the Hillcarter Hotel which, although relatively modern on the ground floor at least, also looks closed. However, having established that a restaurant along the road, whilst open, doesn’t purvey alcohol, we return to inspect the Hillcarter more closely and discover that there is an entrance to a sprawling – and empty – ground floor bar. It comes as something of a relief that this is able to provide us not only with ciders, but also with sandwiches and chips. And an hour or so later, feeling suitably refreshed, it’s a mere three minutes to the station for the journeys home.