Somehow, when i was planning this I thought of today as an easy day. I don’t know why, as it was going to be over 30 km, which a few months ago was further than I’d ever walked. I was staying at the Traveller B&B, a really nice quaint place that cooked up an excellent “Full English”. Sat looking out the window on a grey Louth, with windscreen wipers going on passing cars, it seemed I may get my first wet day. I really thought I would be getting soaked everyday and my rucsac is packed with wet weather gear and spare dry clothes. The only rain I have seen was in Boston, just as I popped into Morrisons for some food, it had stopped when I came out, and last night a bit of drizzle as I walked to the Indian Resturant. Maybe things were about to change.

Walking through Louth, I was really impressed with the old buildings and church. It had a good feel (I know I always say that, but I’m sure the southeast has had the history knocked out of all its old buildings) and had things like the town art trail advertised. It would definitely be worth a longer wall around, if only I didn’t have miles to walk!

I soon got onto the first footpath, the heavier rain from earlier hadn’t perceived and was now really light mist. I wore my coat, but never needed to zip it up all day. I’m sure there is an official term, I was thinking of the Irish “soft morning”. The biggest problem, which I didn’t twig until too late, was that the ground was very wet and the first field I crossed my boots and legs of my trousers were soaked. If only I had a solution to this problem in my bag, wait, I have brand new gaiters. Alas, this thought was too late as I was already wet through!

Today I left the big wide fields behind (although there were still a few to cross, and I seemed to make a worse job of navigating to the exit) and there were many more small fields. This slowed process somewhat, as there were some very tricky stiles to climb over. One was essentially a six foot step ladder to go up and over. While they were all different, they were all equally slippery on the damp wood.

I sensed I was getting near the coast and I was soon following a channel (I now know it was the Louth Canal) walking along the top of the bank. It hadn’t been well used and was a bit of a struggle with very rough ground and odd overgrown bits. Getting to Cleethorpes wasn’t going to be easy.

Nevertheless I reached the sea embankment for my first glimpse of the Humber Estuary. I could see across to Spurn Head, which loops around to protect the Estuary. The actual Spurn Head was the only high piece of land (it has a lighthouse on it) and the rest looked low lying, which is promising for my final day tomorrow. The route now followed the coast, along the sand dunes to Cleethorpes. I was getting slower and slower, but getting onto the shared cycleway with lots of promenaders and dog walker helped my speed.

I was hoping for a Meridian marker, and I wasn’t disappointed. There is a fine set of monuments, the line set in the pavement, a signpost to random places in the world, and a globe. To me, this was excellent but seemed ignored by everyone else. There was an interesting sign board which told me I was nearing the end of my quest in a northerly direction , but if I turned south there are seven other countries waiting to be crossed!

I staggered into Cleethorpes, it looks a nice town – in as much as any seaside town looks in November. A very fancy swimming pool on the sea front, a nice promenade, a pier (or fish and chip restaurant?) and no people (at least, not at 4pm dusk on a drizzly Thursday in November).

The final stage was across the Humber, so needed to catch a train to Barton upon Humber, and then a bus to cross the Humber Bridge. So I headed to the station. I bought a ticket which gave me (the) access (code) to the station toilets, which were cleaner than your average railway toilets. The reason for mentioning this, is that there is a pub attached to the station and following on from my thoughts on the homeless and access to water yesterday. There was a guy sat outside the pub talking loudly, on a phone I assumed. He wasn’t and probably had mental health problems, and maybe homeless. Anyway we exchanged pleasantries and I went into the pub for a quick rehydration shandy (honest). The guy came in and asked for a pint of tap water, and was served it with no problems. All day I had been thinking that churches could provide this service, and it was good to see “Public Houses” providing this service. Anyway, enough rambling, it looked like an massive pub, until I saw someone who looked just like me at the end of the bar. It was a tiny pub with a most impressive mirror!

It was about an hour on the Trans Peninne Express (just saying that makes it feel I’ve walked a long way north!) to Barton upon Humber, where I changed for a bus to Hull. The bus stop was frequented by the local youth, many of whom had illegally modified e-bikes (a pet hate of mine). While these bikes had massive batteries, they didn’t have lights, mix that with black hoody tracksuits, pulling wheelies on the wrong side of the road was Darwinism in its finest form. When I was planning this, I was looking forward to going over the Humber Bridge (was the longest span of its type for many years). I hadn’t planned for it being in complete darkness, so was a disappointment.

I soon got to Hull and ate the biggest, most horrible looking, deconstructed chicken kebab, chips, and salad, in the most dubious of establishments. It was lovely – but I couldn’t bring myself to photograph it – sorry. It was most needed as I’d only eaten the last cheese “sandwich” all day. My Morrisons shopping back in Boston was inspired, who knew that pitta bread and cheese could last so long and provide a pocket sized snack! I was pretty muddy, but the receptionist at the Ibis hotel didn’t bat an eyelid, luckily, as I was so ready to lie down.