Following on from my awesomely long walk on Sunday, I thought I would add to it with another marathon walk to Crimdon, along with a bit of a detour to Northgate…

I got in from work at my usual time, pretty much ready for bed, but I thought I’d stay up as it felt a bit of a waste going straight to bed when I got in. After all, I’d just witnessed the dizzying excitement of watching two squirrels having a fight in the car park.

I thought I’d work on my music database for a bit, and also start getting my CD collection catalogued in some kind of orderly fashion. You might remember I started this here , but it’s a bit haphazard now, and also a little out of date.

During this time, Chris rang me on the house phone, but I didn’t hear it. Daddykins answered. he thought I was asleep, so didn’t inform me of this until half an hour later.

I rang him back, and he asked… “So, are we doing something today, then”?

BALLS! It had, for once, totally slipped my mind that I’d arranged to do something on this day. I guess the thoughts I’d had about work had overtaken it. Well, seeing as I wasn’t doing anything important, and the weather was stunning, I thought it was a great idea.

Chris said “Give me an hour, as I’ve got stuff to do.”

My reply… “Oh, tell you what then, I’ll make my way down yours, I’ll have a walk about and take some photos with my camera, or something. Give me a ring on my mobile when you’re ready, and I’ll make my way over”. This was at about 10:30.

At approximately 11, I set off, and made my way to Chris’s. There was no phone call, so I assumed he was still busy.

By 12PM (or, if you want to be anal about it, 11:57AM), I was on the beach, taking photos. I’d never seen the tide out so far, and the beach was completely deserted.

It made for some awesome photos.

It started getting on, and I was getting peckish. I walked along to Northgate shops, and got a bag of chips. The woman behind the counter seemed vaguely familiar, as if she’d served me before somewhere. No sooner had I collected my pommes frites, my phone rang. It was Chris, but he was calling from my dad’s mobile. WHAT?

Yes, he had totally misunderstood what I’d said. I was now in Northgate, he was in my house. This was the oddest of situations. We both set off from our destinations, and arranged to meet in the middle.

Somehow, this worked. Neither of us got lost. Neither of us fell down a manhole cover. Neither of us got abducted by aliens. The next step was deciding to do for the day. Neither of us had a great deal of money, and I didn’t really fancy a long journey.

Hart was the first suggestion. It’s a nice long walk, and there’s ample opportunities for photography there, despite it only being a small village. We began walking that way along West View Road, and eventually got sidetracked by the gaping mouth of The Brus Tunnel, which measures in at approximately 75m 45cm in length. It leads into the Steetley site, and also to the large beach, leading all the way to Crimdon.

As we were making our way through the Steetley complex, some old guy asked us questions about it. Awesome! I think this was the first time in my entire life I’ve been approached by a stranger, been able to give an accurate description of the location AND give him directions of where he wanted to be. He described it as an eyesore.

This is the view he was referring to…

I didn’t really agree. I’ve always been able to admire the gritty industrial charm of the place, and will be sorry to see it all go, if that ever happens.

The walk along the beach consisted of general nonsense, mainly me throwing stones into the sea, and trying to pick the best “skimmy stone”, or whatever they’re called, in order to get the most amount of hops across the water. It also granted some photo opportunities.

Can’t really see me? Good.

Eventually, we reached Crimdon, after avoiding the little tern nest site which has been setup on the beach. Apparently, each year they return here from West Africa to nest on the sandy Crimdon beach… idiots. From West Africa To Hartlepool… now that must be one hell of a disappointing journey! Saying that, there were a lot of them about, which I can only guess it’s a good thing. And no, I didn’t get close enough to get a photo.

So, onto Crimdon, then. My original trip in February made it look an awful place. Desolate, cold, full of molehills. Thankfully, this has all changed with the onslaught of the beautiful spring weather, and I was able to appreciate the views…

OK, I promise there will be no more terrible photos of me.

In the early afternoon spring sunshine, the Crimdon Viaduct just looks absolutely amazing, and I can’t resist posting a photo…

After that, I had to walk up the worst bank in the world, the one leading from Crimdon Dene to the road. It’s a nightmare. OK, for anyone who is in the least bit fit, there’d be nothing to it at all, but for me, it felt like I was climbing Everest. Not good.

There was then the short and trifling matter of walking home. Well, I say short and trifling, it’s not exactly far, but after spending three hours walking, these extra few thousand yards seemed like an eternity. I did make a new friend, however…

I think I’ll name him Gilbert.

On the way home, we popped into King Oswy shops, in order to pick up much needed fluids. Thanks to the sun and the length of the walk, we were both parched. We also went to the bakers. I picked up two sausage rolls and Chris got a steak bake, or at least the “Three Cooks” equivalent.

We both returned to Mercuryvapour Towers, munching on our respective snacks. Chris left shortly after, as he had “things” to attend to, and after 22 hours awake, I went to bed for a much needed sleep.

Unfortunately, I have awoken completely and utterly sunburned. My arms are red, my face makes me look like Dr Zoidberg from Futurama, and my neck feels like it’s been whipped with a flaming rope.

The full set of 93 photos is er… located at that underlined section.

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