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”.
Day 119 – Ingoldmells to Wainfleet: 14.5m: 4.8h (Gibraltar Point route)
Very
comfortable rooms (and possibly the effect of yesterday’s after supper malts)
have resulted in a good night’s sleep for all and we meet in the reception area
at 7. Because of the Anchor’s late breakfast, we’ve decided to get under way,
walk for an hour or so and then find something to eat in or around Skegness,
and we’re back on the Ingoldmells promenade and under way just after 7:05. Like
the northern approach to the town, the path continuing along the seafront to
the south is bordered by a number of fixed caravan sites which, after 45
minutes or so, give way to the vast expanse of chalets which forms the
residential part of Butlins on the outskirts of Skegness. It’s still a good
half hour or so to the centre of the town where, despite a couple of
pessimistic comments from locals about the availability of somewhere which
might be open for breakfast as early as 8:30 am, we eventually come across the
Marine Boathouse which has just about finished setting up its standard – and reasonably
priced – cooked breakfast bar. Over the morning’s sustenance, John and Mike
decide to continue towards Wainfleet via the coastal route, despite (or perhaps
because of?) the prospect of having to try and get over a 2 metre high gate at
Gibraltar Point. Consistent with their customarily unadventurous attitude
towards obstructions of this kind, Ben and Gary opt for a potentially less
challenging inland route along a series of minor roads, lanes and field paths
which eventually lead to a village called Croft and then into Wainfleet. En
route, they receive confirmation from John and Mike that they have conquered
the gate but, because the coastal route is almost 2 miles longer, they arrive
in Wainfleet around half an hour after Ben and Gary have ensconced themselves
in the Woolpack pub. Mike seem rather surprised that the nestler selected isn’t
the Batemans’ Brewery pub on the other side of the station, but also seems
perfectly happy with the product from the brewery which is being purveyed at
the Woolpack. The train we’re all scheduled to catch from Wainfleet (Ben and
Gary to Grantham, and John and Mike continuing to Nottingham) doesn’t leave for
another couple of hours at about 3:15, but there are reports of delayed and
cancelled trains between Grantham and London, so we decide to catch the 2:23
which might give a bit more flexibility to those who are King’s Cross bound. And,
importantly, it still gives us all time for a further beer and some toasted
sandwiches and chips. As it transpires, the problems on the London line ease
during the afternoon and so, when Ben and Gary leave John and Mike at Grantham,
they find that their designated train is neither delayed nor cancelled, which
leaves them with 90 minutes to sample the delights of the town – i.e. to have a
cup of tea in a shopping precinct. Rock ‘n roll.
Day 118 – Saltfleet to Ingoldmells: 17.6m: 5.8h
Ben and Gary
meet Mike at Doncaster station and together join John on his connecting train
from Sheffield. We arrive in Cleethorpes around noon and are met by our pipe
playing Colin who, despite encountering several over cautious drivers on the
way, gets us back to Saltfleet shortly before 12:45. A short stroll from the
New Inn (still closed) along a country lane and over a field brings us back to
the North Sea, and our afternoon route is one of almost uninterrupted coastal
purity along beaches, promenades and grass/sand paths through dunes. The only
fly in the ointment is the wind which is diagonally against us and of sufficient
strength as to make the walk a bit tiring, particularly when we’re on the beach.
Indeed, after a couple of hours, we’re beginning to wonder whether we’ll be
able to manage all of the six hours or so required to get us to Ingoldmells, or
whether an earlier bale out will be needed. However, things seem to get
slightly easier once we’ve arrived at Mablethorpe. This could be due to a marginal
drop in the strength of the wind and/or the fact that the second half of the afternoon
includes more built up (and, therefore, more sheltered) areas. Certainly, the
route through Mablethorpe, Sutton-on-Sea, Anderby Creek and Chapel St Leonards takes
us past an almost continuous stretch of large fixed caravan sites. And as we
approach Ingoldmells, our pace actually quickens in an attempt (which proves
successful) to achieve an average speed for the day of 3mph. We arrive in
Ingoldmells shortly after 6:30 and a short walk past a couple of amusement
arcades brings us to The Anchor Hotel and Bars. This is essentially a family
pub with two huge bars (one containing a stage with a rather worrying area for
a DJ and karaoke machine, and the other with a children’s amusement area) and
around 30 rooms in an extension at the back. We order our customary
beers/ciders and John goes to check in at the reception desk in the extension.
It transpires that the reception closes at 7 and doesn’t open again until 9 in
the morning which is also the start time for breakfast. Given that we want to
leave well before then, payment in advance is required. After sorting ourselves
out in our rooms, Gary and Mike have a further pre-supper beer and then move
onto the couple of bottles of wine into which John and Ben have started to make
inroads. We choose a table as far away from the DJ/karaoke area as we can (only
three or four other tables are occupied) and the music isn’t too intrusive. The
by now almost standard fish, chips & mushy peas, or ham, egg & chips,
are okay – not quite as good as the Kingsway at Cleethorpes, but a lot cheaper.
We conclude with a glass of malt and decide that we’re not sufficiently
interested in whether Arsenal hold on to their 1-0 lead at Watford (Deeney red
carded early doors) to delay bed much beyond 9:30.
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