Day 120 – Wainfleet to Clay Hole: 17.4m: 6.2h

Ben and Gary’s route this morning involves a change of trains at Sleaford where they join John and Mike who are travelling through/from Nottingham. For once, we haven’t chosen the best of dates for a walk. The country is due to experience regular rainfall throughout the week, with Lincolnshire being one of the worst affected areas and, when we arrive in Wainfleet shortly after 11:30, the actual weather conditions confirm those predicted. It is raining, lightly but steadily, and the leaden skies offer little hope of immediate improvement. Undeterred, we set off and immediately miss an early turn from the road out of the town which only takes a few minutes to rectify. Much of our route back towards the coast involves going through a series of rather muddy vegetable fields to the south west of Wainfleet before turning left along a track which crosses the A52 and leads to a grass embankment running parallel to – but several hundred yards away from – the coastline. And the embankment proves to be the story of the day. We don’t leave it for the next 4 hours. It’s bordered by wide stretches of farmland, marsh and wetland; due to the distance from the coast and the dull/damp weather, we rarely catch sight of the sea; we come across a few groups of cows and horses, but only a handful of buildings and people; and, whilst there are occasional breaks in the rain and nothing between the breaks which would qualify as a downpour, it’s generally a wet and rather bleak day. The high spots are witnessing a mechanical vegetable picker in one of the fields, and speculating on the purpose of yellow discs in the ground which we see along a two mile stretch of the embankment and which, according to John’s calculation, appear every 100 metres. The speculation ends when we encounter a small group of people at one of the periodic crossings of the embankment (some of which are bounded by removable barbed wire) and are informed that the discs are designed to monitor any movement in that particular stretch following its level being raised several months ago. Given that the group looks vaguely official – with jackets and clip boards in evidence – the information could well be reliable, and it does sound plausible. We’re anticipating that the embankment will end somewhere on the approach to HM Prison, North Sea Camp, just before we reach The Haven river which leads into Boston. But no. Remarkably it continues through the prison (or maybe camp is the more appropriate word) with nothing more than stretches of waist high wire on either side. It is no surprise to read that it is an open prison. A very genial prison officer emerges as we pass the gate house and asks if we’d like to be escorted through the site but, seeing that it’s more in the nature of a polite request than a suggestion, we reply with equal politeness that it won’t be necessary. And the observations which we hear from one or two inmates as we pass alongside their blocks don’t sound too antagonistic. The day ends as it began with what proves to be an unnecessary diversion around three sides of a field to get to the north bank of the river. As it transpires, we could simply have crossed the first side. This adds a good 15 minutes to the route, during which the light drizzle develops into quite heavy rain, accompanied by a freshening breeze. This knocks on the head any ideas we may have had to walk an extra 5 miles into Boston. John orders a cab to collect us from a narrow lane at Clay Hole and, when it arrives, the driver’s expression is one of having encountered the proverbial drowned rats. Muddy boots and wet jackets are duly removed before we set off and we arrive at the Quayside Hotel and Bar in Boston around 6:30. The weather today has clearly had a considerable effect on us  because, in a significant break from tradition, we go straight to our rooms to dry out and clean up rather than having the customary post check-in sharpener. Normal service is resumed with beers/wine before/with supper (very substantial burgers – i.e. double patty) and stickies afterwards. Very friendly staff, one of whom (female) keeps addressing John as “darling”.