7.96 miles 4h 5m ascent 63m
Rockcliffe-Gretna (the old Cumbria Coastal Way, now the KCIIIECP)
O young Lochinvar is come out of the west,
Through all the wide Border his steed was the best;
….
He staid not for brake, and he stopp’d not for stone,
He swam the Eske river where ford there was none;
Lochinvar
This was a completion walk of sorts. The old Cumbria Coastal Way fell into disuse some years ago as permissive access lapsed and path maintenance stopped. The route stopped being shown on OS maps after 2010 but its way markers and signposts lived on as reminders. We often saw them on our forays along the coast while walking the Hadrian’s Coastal Route (2019), Hadrian’s Wall Trail (2017) and Eden Way (2019). With those walks we had covered much of the Cumbria Coastal Way’s route between Ravenglass and Carlisle and then up the Eden to the Esk Boathouse.
It was very tempting to complete the few remaining miles between Esk boathouse and Gretna but access to the paths was uncertain and I didn’t fancy miles of walking along a busy road, especially with the dogs. But this part of the coastal route has re-opened as part of the new King Charles III England Coast Path so it was time to complete the walk to Gretna.
So this was our chance to complete the northern section of the Cumbria Coastal Way. The day would take us from the banks of the River Eden in England, over the River Esk into the Debatable Lands and finally over the Sark into Scotland.
Unfortunately I’m more the “old antiquity Nickettey-Nox” than “young Lord Lochinvar“. So… I did stop for a break, and even had the luxury of a picnic bench. I did stop to look at a stone. And, more importantly, the Esk River, where we crossed, now has a bridge.
We tried to park near the church in Rockcliffe but could not fit a car where we had parked a few years before. I wonder if the roadside plants there have grown. Our back-up parking was at the community centre. From there we made our way past the Crown & Thistle (where there was plenty of space to park) and after skirting a cricket pitch we crossed a small footbridge to reach the riverside at the village green. It was just as it had been the last time we walked here, The temple of St Mary the Virgin above the trees, the Eden Benchmark (Global Warming), and upstream, the red cliffs that gave the village its name, and the white frontage of Castletown House.
The walk from Rockcliffe to the Esk Boathouse was part of the Eden Way. It was not completely new to us, though there were some differences. It now sports “England Coast Path” finger-posts and small “National Trail” signs and the levee beside Rockcliffe marsh now has a substantial fence.
We left the village green without posing at the Eden Benchmark – we’ve done that before. Instead we gazed at the new-fangled England Coast path finger-post, then followed its direction along the small road passing the last few houses and climbing the red cliffs. When the road, and national cycleway 7, turned right we continued along a footpath down to the riverside. Christy was allowed off his lead to burn off a little energy as we walked along the riverbank.
A kissing gate marks the beginning of Rockcliffe Marsh. A new information board there showed the route the King Charles III England Coast Path takes, indicated where dogs needed to be on a lead and made it clear that there was no public access to the marsh “to look after the special wildlife, plants and livestock which call this place home“. Christy’s freedom was curtailed for a time.
Our first challenge was Demesne Marsh. This narrow area was filled with grazing cows, and more worrying to me, a few calves. I did consider climbing the haw haw into the gardens of Castletown House which looked as if it would be easy enough and made sure there were no cows between me and it. Some inquisitive cows walked towards us but most just stepped out of our way.
Once the cows were behind us we relaxed. While looking at some bellflowers (Audrey told me the name but I have forgotten it – they are bellflowers to me) I noticed what initially looked like a gatepost but seemed to be inscribed. I couldn’t read it at the time and didn’t think it was appropriate to climb into the garden for a better look. From my photos I can make out “Hunc Lapidem Exerit Gulielmus Mounsey AD 1829”. My Latin is rusty to put it mildly but I think that is William Mounsey erected this stone AD 1829. His descendants still own the house, I think.
After the buildings at Demesne the ECP (and the Eden Way) are atop the broad embankment that separates tidal marsh from farmland. Since the tide was out we were looking across marshland, filled with grazing cattle and beyond that the extensive sand flats of the Solway. Edward I took his invading armies into Scotland by way of those sands so I can only imagine that the lands to the east must have been impassable marsh in his day. The embankment is obviously man-made but I can’t find when it was built other than a comment that land reclamation hereabouts has been going on since Roman times. The embankment looks very much like those used by railways but I suspect it has merely been built to the same design, perhaps when the railways were being built. I suspect it began as a natural line of deposition that has been developed over time.
There were a surprisingly large number of cows grazing on Rockcliffe Marsh. The new fence had several signs reminding us that access to the coastal marsh was not allowed. The ECP leaves the embankment about a hundred metres short of the Esk Boathouse and I would have continuing on to the boathouse then looped back but the sign warned “Strictly No Entry” and there was a fence just beyond it for good measure.
This is as far as we had gone when walking the Eden Way. An information board told us what birds we might see – but I didn’t see any of them. The pause was an opportunity to take a look at our surroundings and check the map. We had Criffel to the west, Gretna to the north, Burnswark in the west, Skiddaw and Blencathra in the south. Unfortunately we’d both forgotten to bring jelly babies so we just had a drink of water. Mabel lapped it up but Christy couldn’t be tempted – more interested in a stick he had found.
Steps led us down to the edge of a field, where a fence ensured we didn’t stray into the field proper. Then short farm track brought us to the minor road between Esk Boathouse and Halltown farm, where a small dilapidated sign indicated we should enter a field rather than going through the farm yard.
The field was dry but vegetation and uneven surface gave every sign of transforming into quagmire if the word “rain” was as much as uttered in its hearing. There was no sign of a typical ‘national trail” style gate or stile on the far side. Instead we were faced with a new, tall (2m+) and stout wire fence topped with barbed wire. There was a gate but it was not for opening. The bolt was stuck fast. I tried whispering “friend” without effect and the bolt only moved after much jiggling (certainly not giggling – as autocorrect would have had me write).
A small footbridge crossed a muddy ditch that I took to be Peter Sike and beyond that a line of stone paving slabs led across a boggy patch. The slabs looked quite new, though one had already broken. I wonder if they were laid for the ECP.
The slabs led us into some trees and then some more “secure facility type fencing” protecting a field of young maize. Again, there was a gate but it didn’t look as if it would be opened easily so we walked between the perimeter fence and a hawthorn hedge that must have been the original field boundary. I thought this was an instance of walkers being kept out of the ‘agricultural” part of the field. The grass was long but it did look to have been flattened, by other walkers. It seemed the correct way to go.
It wasn’t. The grass was gradually replaced by thistles. Christy was having trouble with the prickly thistles and I had to carry wee Mabel. But the gap between fence and hedge narrowed until it was impassable and we had to turn back. We should have walked in the field of maize. The route could do with a waymarker there. The walking was easier beside the maize and we soon reached a gate onto farm track leading to Garriestown.
The tall fence you can see in the photo above lined the track all the way to Garriestown, keeping us out of the marsh, though the steep bank and crowded hawthorns would have done a pretty good job unaided. The fence even blocked off several farm gates, each still proudly carrying a “no right of access sign”.
We passed a field full of bright yellow flag iris and then left the track as the ECP skirted the farm at Garriestown the edge of fields. The brick buildings here are grade II listed. A couple of inquisitive horses came to check us out, a flimsy tape separating us more psychologically than physically. The dogs paid them surprisingly little heed. Perhaps Mabel was too tired to bark.
The West Coast Main Railway just past Garriestown has an unexpectedly grand footbridge given that it’s in the middle of nowhere. Too steep and too many steps for the dachshund, so I carried her while Christy ran up and down keeping us all together.
A short riverside walk beside the Esk took us to Metalbridge, then round the pub. i take it this was to prevent us walking past its camping pods. Instead the ECP goes along some poor folks drive.
I think this is where the old Cumbria Coastal way would have ended. Perhaps we should look plug the gap between Ravenglass and Ulverston and complete the route. But that’s for another time.
As it was, we found a rare treasure at Metal Bridge, a picnic table and when we were ready to stop for lunch. We ate our sandwiches in the pub’s beer garden overlooking the River Esk. Cold drinks from the bar and sunshine. The only downside the noise from the M6.
The road between Carlisle and Glasgow was in such a poor state at the beginning of the 1800’s that a part a parliamentary commission appointed the famous engineer Thomas Telford to oversee modernisation of the route. At that time the north road passed through Longtown which had the nearest bridge. Telford’s new road took a more direct route crossing the River Esk on a newly constructed Iron Bridge that gave Metal Bridge its name. That bridge was opened in 1820 and stood until 1916.
Telford’s road would become eventually become the A74 but its job is now done by the M6. The old road is still open but functioning as a minor local access route. The beer garden we sat in would have been on the Telford road’s approach to the bridge.
There are now two concrete bridges over the Esk at Metal Bridge. A gap in the fencing along the road gave us access to the road. it might be “unclassified” and “minor” but was busy enough to be unpleasant walking with dogs. But there was a pavement, though that ended once we left the bridge.
Anybody driving north along the M6, and approaching Scotland might wonder why the broad waters of the Esk, such an obvious divide, are not the border with England. Well, there was a time when it suited both kingdoms to have a buffer zone…
“All Englishmen and Scottishmen are and shall be free to rob, burn, spoil, slay, murder and destroy, all and every such person and persons, their bodies, property, goods and livestock… without any redress to be made for same.”
Parliamentary Decree
Crossing the Esk, we entered the Debatable lands, where for three hundred years border reivers created an anarchic no-man’s land; not independent, but too dangerous for either Scotland or England’s kings to control. They were the last part of Great Britain to be brought under state control. And then only after half a century of politicking, and several bloody crack-downs. Commissioners for the two kingdoms met, and divided the land between Scotland and England along a line from the Sark to the Esk at Scots Dyke. North of the line became Scottish, south became English, placing the border on the diminutive River Sark rather than its larger neighbour. Hence the lyrics of the traditional song, below (though it decries the Act of Union rather than where the border stands.
Fareweel to a’ our Scottish fame,
Fareweel our ancient glory,
Fareweel ev’n to the Scottish name,
Sae fam’d in martial story.
Now Sark rins o’er the Solway sands,
And Tweed rins to the ocean,
To mark where England’s province stands –
Such a parcel of rogues in a nation.
The pavement ended, rounding a crash barrier at the end of the bridge. Rather than walk to the end of the barrier and back along the path we climbed it. Which, what with fiddling with the dogs’ leads and generally faffing about meant the shortcut took us longer than walking around would have done. Then the Debatable lands gave us a taste of their hospitality, or lack thereof.
Turning to face the river we were faced with a gate, overgrown with thorns. On that gate was a large “PATH CLOSED” sign in red lettering. A smaller notice with a map indicated two sections of the path ahead were closed. And, helpfully informed us that there were no diversions available.
Wow! We had been walking for two and a half hours. Audrey said she wasn’t walking back and I didn’t fancy walking on a busy verge-less road to Gretna, dodging the trucks rolling by. I’d like to say that we went full gung-ho and shouted “let’s just go for it”, but to be honest I studied the map and decided there were several places where we could escape back to the road if our route was impassable.
So we pressed on. The thorn covered gate left its mark on my hands, then we made our way down to the riverside. A farm track passes under the railway viaduct and we saw why the path had been closed. The Esk had burst its banks beside the underpass flooding the track. The water level was lower now and the underpass had dried out. There had been about half a metre of mud but a track through had been cleared. I imagine I would have had to carry the dogs before the mud was cleared.
Close by, it was obvious where the riverbank had failed. Little has been done to repair the breach and I suspect the underpass will flood again when the Esk is next running high. If that were the case then the best option would be to walk along the farm track parallel to the road and use a small underpass about 500m further along the railway. Failing that go back to the road and walk to the rejoin the path at Mossband Hall.
We walked under the railway easily enough then followed a sturdy green railway fence with viciously sharp looking tops along the edge of a ploughed field. The margin was quite rough but it wasn’t long until we reached another gate. It had a PATH CLOSED sign on its far side, so we had managed the first closed section.
Beyond the gate was a farm track, presumably an early iteration of Telford’s road from the 1820s. A somewhat superfluous barbed wire fence kept us from the dense hawthorn covered bank between us and the present road. We passed about a 100m from Mossbank Hall which was a bit of a let down, looking more ‘farm’ than ‘stately home’ and gave off industrial-type farm noises.
Beyond the farm, we negotiated a couple of gates and were back on farm track. The small pond marked on the OS map was a dry hollow filled with rushes the colour of sand. And then we were back to walking along the edge of fields, approaching the next section that was supposed to be closed. We had passed a couple of gates that would get us back to the road if need be. The gates were locked but would not have been too difficult to climb. I’m sure the dogs could have squeezed under/around or be manhandled over. At this point we would have been looking at under a mile of road-walking but I would have been disappointed to miss the final section of the walk.
Ahead we saw a brand spanking new wooden footbridge. It was probably waiting for some final touches such as steps. But I lifted Mabel up and the rest of us managed easily enough. Beyond was a fenced in path leading the embankment ahead. We had to negotiate a couple of half hearted jury-rigged gates presumably placed to prevent the unwary from injuring themselves on the unfinished footbridge
A second bridge, also awaiting its steps, took us across a final ditch. It was perhaps a metre and a half deep but the sides were not too steep to scramble and the bottom had only a drop of water. We could have crossed either ditch without a bridge but I expect they can fill with water and the sides might be more difficult when wet.
There were wooden steps up to the top of the embankment, where we had stunning views across the sand to the lakes hills and to Criffel, but only a glimpse of the Sark itself at that stage.
The embankment brought us to the main road opposite the Gretna Chase Hotel. Then we crossed Sark Bridge, designed by Thomas Telford in 1814, and came back into Scotland.
There are two memorials nearby. The first, beside the bridge is an inscribed sandstone disc set within a larger circle. Identifying this took quite some time, and gave me several false answers until I came upon the explanation while reading about something else. The sandstone bridge was built in 1814, one of many built by Thomas Telford when upgrading the Carlisle-Glasgow road. The bridge was widened in 2001 which required removal of Telford’s mark that had been part of the original structure. The disc was set in the ground as a memorial.
The second memorial is the Auld Acquaintance Cairn which, despite its name, is a modern construction. It was originally constructed by the pro-union campaign group ‘Hands Across the Border’ in the summer of 2014 prior to the referendum on Scottish independence.
“Please join us in this very special project on the English-Scottish border at Gretna Green. We are inviting individuals and families from across the UK to bring their favourite stone – or to use the stones we will be supplying – to work with us and build what we’re calling The Auld Acquaintance. The Auld Acquaintance will be built in the great traditional British tradition of a stone cairn, a statement of our respect, our love, our affection for the United Kingdom.”
– RORY STEWART MP, CONSERVATIVE PENRITH AND THE BORDER
It was good to take our Cumbrian walks up the border at Gretna. We had great weather, the route had just enough difficulty to make it interesting without causing too much grief. We had a picnic bench to sit on for lunch, and cold drinks on a hot day. There were hints of history, springtime hedgerows and surprisingly great views across the Solway sands.
