Wooler

Nicole and I were both off work for a couple of days and we booked an overnight stay in Northumberland at short notice. We wanted to visit the coastal village of Bamburgh where a magnificent castle overlooks the lengthy beach and the North Sea. Just along the coast is Budle Bay which is a great spot for birdwatching. We found a good accommodation deal in the nearby market town of Wooler. Dental appointments meant we couldn't set off until mid afternoon but we hoped to reach our destination before darkness fell. It only takes a couple of hours to bomb down the A1 and reach the northern extremity of England. We negotiated the Edinburgh bypass without any problems and hit the open road. The A1 is Britain's longest numbered road - connecting Edinburgh and London - but there are still substantial single-carriageway sections in Berwickshire and Northumberland. Once past Dunbar you encounter many junctions with B-roads and unclassified tracks. Nevertheless it always seems to be fairly quiet on this stretch. I'm guessing the majority of HGV traffic bound for central Scotland uses the M6/M74 corridor. We did indeed reach Wooler at dusk.

Locating our digs wasn't a problem as they were right next to the Black Bull pub on the High Street. A 17th century coaching inn, the Bull's stable block has been converted into accommodation units. An Italian restaurant was sited at the end of the alleyway while another public house - The Angel - stood on the other side. Clearly we weren't going to be stuck for somewhere to eat and drink! Having booked a budget room at £36, I expected the standard to be pretty basic but we were pleasantly surprised upon entry. It was nicely appointed with lots of little touches: supplied shower gel and caps, a mini fridge, dressing gowns hanging in the cupboard. The kind of things long since phased out by most hotels. Definitely somewhere I would stay again. We had a walk up and down the main drag (it was dark now) and plumped for dinner at the Bull. I use the WhatPub website to research alehouses when visiting a strange town. Run by CAMRA, it lists all potential watering holes and is frequently updated. I purchased the Good Beer Guide for many years but it can only cover a fraction of what's out there. Mind you, it does act as an assurance of quality. I therefore knew in advance the Black Bull sold a couple of cask ales and I sampled both of them. Traditional bitters, right up my street. The decor was clearly a throwback to a previous decade but the pub was welcoming and I treated myself to a large mixed grill. Nicole opted for the same on the grounds she would most likely end up jealous of my plateful if she ordered something else. As good a reason as any! We ate in the spacious lounge and the food was delicious. We chatted to a couple from Berkshire who were in town for a few days. A couple of locals weighed in with their incredibly thick accents. Suitably fed and watered, we headed off to bed. I planned to be up early the next morning as I had a mission.

I had googled a phrase along the lines of "abandoned mansion Wooler" and instantly hit upon an old estate known as Ewart Park. Apparently the house had been standing empty for decades and access was possible. A quick check of the map revealed the location to be just three miles outside Wooler. I was in business! An unclassified road ran within a stone's throw of the property and was available on StreetView. I sussed out a potential parking place and noted a cottage next to the estate entrance. The track leading in was barred only by a farm gate. It's great having all these tools at your fingertips to check out the terrain in advance. I headed off in daylight at around 7.30 and found my destination without any problems. I passed an old railway signal box on the way. Clearly there must have been a train service to these parts in days gone by. I parked on a low grass verge near the inhabited cottage and easily negotiated a wooden spar fence next to the metal gate. A sign warned of potential prosecution of trespassers. In Scotland you're on rock-solid ground with this type of thing but I think English landowners can technically pursue intruders through the civil courts. Not that I let any of this worry me. I was visiting a long-abandoned site in the middle of nowhere. Who exactly would threaten to sue me? Nevertheless I do like to be discrete while exploring and quietly slipped into the old grounds. I saw outbuildings to my left but took the path straight ahead as I had no idea if there were perhaps people living in the old gatehouse. I needn't have worried as I soon glimpsed the mansion through the tress and quickly ascertained the whole place was deserted. Moreover, the front door was slightly ajar.

Somewhat surprisingly, the roof hadn't been removed as is often the case with abandoned stately homes in Scotland. There had obviously been water ingress as some of the floorboards looked rotten but I stuck close to the wall and passed through a few rooms on the ground level. I found this intriguing map pasted on a wall. It must be pre-1947 as the partition of the Indian subcontinent is not shown. This all makes sense as the house was commandeered by the military during wartime and used as a hospital. A fate that was to befall many country piles up and down the land and in some cases it breathed a little extra life into grand mansions on the brink of extinction due to mounting death duties and changing public attitudes towards residences of the landed gentry. Ewart Park was initially abandoned in 1937 when the property passed to a new owner who simply didn't have the means to run the place. It has been unoccupied since the end of the hostilities and subject to quiet decay ever since. I was able to make my way to the upper levels as the main staircase felt solid enough. The state of the flooring in the various rooms was haphazard with obvious gaps in places. I therefore contented myself with glancing through the doorways. All furniture has been stripped out but the fireplaces and plasterwork were nice to look at. I finished my short tour by climbing the stone steps inside the crenellated turret. Access to the top is still available but the wooden ladder was missing a couple of rungs and others looked unsafe. I decided to leave it. I took a few photos of the building's exterior. It is indeed a beautiful sight. After poking around the overgrown walled garden, I walked back to the car with that wonderful feeling of exhilaration that occurs after a successful explore. Why do I pursue this interest? I love the process of tracking down these ruined sites online then going out to actually find them. Finding myself completely alone on an abandoned estate with the freedom to rummage around brings me a great deal of inner peace. Although I happily visit forgotten industrial plants, there is something special about a grand residence being gradually reclaimed by nature. So many ghosts from the past and a way of life vanished forever. I am a solo urban explorer and it never occurs to me to seek out company for this activity. If asked however to show someone else a few places, I would gladly do that too.

It was back to Wooler for breakfast and a proper look at the town centre. There are a number of traditional independent shops and we found ourselves in the rambling premises of an antique dealer. We also chatted to the proprietor of the old-fashioned sweet shop and I bought myself some cola cubes and jelly beans - both favourites from my childhood. Quarter pound bags of course, none of this 100 gram malarkey. The shop was apparently "just surviving" and the lady behind the counter civilly dismissed the alleged economic boost brought by walkers (Wooler is the gateway to the Cheviot Hills and a stopover on the long distance St Cuthbert's Way). She said walkers bring their own supplies with them. I reckon she was speaking purely from her own standpoint as the visitors surely spend money somewhere. In any case, I certainly wouldn't be averse to a wee sugar burst after trudging through the hills for hours on end. A more concerning revelation was the fact that charity shops tend to move in when a long standing outlet goes to the wall. This is an issue in many town centres and the fact that charity shops receive free stock and don't pay commercial rates allows them to proliferate. I browsed the bookshop & stationer's, purchasing a paperback about the history of the Scotland/England border regions. I find myself unable to visit these establishments without buying something. I dispatched a postcard to my mum then followed Nicole into the delicatessen. Again, we went through the ritual of not walking out empty handed. The shopkeeper made small talk with us and enquired where Nicole was originally from. Upon hearing the answer he immediately launched into German, speaking it fairly well. We even received a small discount! As we left, the woman who had been standing behind us tentatively ventured "Bonjour Monsieur" which brought about a swift mock rebuttal. Happy days. It was now time to make the 15-mile trip to Bamburgh on the coast.

Bamburgh Castle is an imposing juggernaut on a rocky outcrop overlooking the North Sea. The village is tucked in behind and the extensive beach attracts visitors from far and wide. We had previously done the castle tour en route to a hostel in Kirk Yetholm on the Scottish side of the border. Incidentally, that's when we first discovered Wooler. Today we drove along to Budle Bay, an oasis for wading birds. We had chanced upon this location on another Northumberland road trip, noticing several people with scopes set up. There is ample off-road parking and it was nice to see an observation platform had been constructed. Present today were redshank, curlews and shelduck. I snapped this shot of a curlew strutting around the mud flats. I've been an admirer of these long-billed waders for years. It was a nippy day with a biting breeze and we didn't linger too long at the bay. One of our Bamburgh rituals is to pop into the Copper Kettle tearoom but first we decided to wander down to the beach. We passed a fine crop of snowdrops on the way. The sands stretch into the distance beyond the castle but we homed in on the rocks where turnstone were in abundance. There is a white stag engraved on a cliff face near the lighthouse but it was a bit too slippy to go scrambling across the stones today. Besides, the tide was working its way in. We turned around and walked along the shore, watching a godwit happily splash among the breaking waves.

By this time the rain was lashing down and we cut up past the castle back to the village green. The Copper Kettle provided welcome respite from the elements and fortunately there were a couple of free tables. My eye was immediately caught by the ploughman's platter on the menu. Although I'm not a tea connoisseur, I do enjoy visiting quaint establishments like the Copper Kettle. The food was excellent and I opted for a pot of green tea, then another. It also gave me a chance to sift through my pictures and upload the best shots. Fully refreshed and ready to hit the road back home, we entered the gift shop next door and were confronted by an impressive selection of bird artwork for sale. Created in watercolours by a local artist, the paintings were framed and retailing at £100. Since it was St Valentine's Day, we proposed a gift to each other and opted for a gaggle of puffins on a rock. The picture now takes pride of place in our living room alongside some of Nicole's own efforts. She is making rapid progress with her painting and has already sold one item. A professional artist in the Fraser family? Who' da thunk it?