Surely the sea
is the most beautiful fact
in our universe, but
you won’t find a fisherman
who will say so;
what they say is,
See you later.
from a Mary Oliver poem in ‘Dream Work’
I wrote about a trip to South Shields on the Northeast 'riviera' early last month. That seaside town sits on the south bank of the mouth of the River Tyne. This month I write of a visit to its sister town on the north bank. You will not be surprised to read that its name is North Shields.
The word 'Shields' in the name of the two towns’ is derived from the Anglo-Saxon word for a shelter, Scield, and refers to fishermen's huts that once stood close to a small wharf near North Shields as it is today. The first written record of those huts was in the Thirteenth Century, but how long before that they were built is unknown.
North Shields stands in contrast to her sister town. Where South Shields has a sweeping sandy beach and caters for visitors with leisure on their mind with its amusement park and an array of shops selling playthings for the beach, North Shields still retains its fishing heritage.
It offers no sandy beach, just a bay of shingles and rocks. On my visit, several hardy souls were clambering over those rocks in search of shellfish and the like. The town's income for centuries was based on trade and fishing. Those activities began with a deal some eight hundred years ago between the then Prior of Tynemouth and some fishermen. The Prior agreed to provide the fishermen with boats on the understanding that they supplied fish to the priory. A little port of twenty houses and a quay soon developed. Not just for fishing. There quickly appeared vessels of varying types plying other trades, exporting coal and hides of leather while importing wine and wool.
This wide-ranging trading lasted through to the 1500s until the authorities, deciding that Newcastle was a more important city for trade, and fearing the damage to its prosperity that North Shields trade would do, then limited the coastal town to only two trades—fishing and salt making.
The fish quay at North Shields also dates to the Thirteenth Century and continues to dominate the seafront. Still standing are the Seventeenth Century lighthouses that once guided shipping safely into and through the mouth of the Tyne.
While North Shields remains the biggest prawn landing port in England, fishing, as in all places around the UK, has declined massively from its heyday. Where once you'd have seen fishing vessels of all shapes and sizes tied up four deep alongside, now there are only some thirty local fishing vessels and around a hundred 'visiting' ships from Scotland, Northern Ireland, the Netherlands, and Denmark. On the day of my visit, I saw only one vessel leave and another return. The photo is of that returning.
Although my visit was in late January, it was a mild day, with the sun elbowing its way through the clouds occasionally to warm those below. The usually turbulent sea also appeared calmer. I thus decided to walk out to the end of the pier on which the 'modern' lighthouse now stands. It took over the role of its candle-powered brethren in 1903. The pier is only open when the North Sea is behaving itself. Sometimes, the wind and sea become so rough that the waves breaking over the pier reach as high, if not higher, than the 90-foot lighthouse.
It was a long walk from the metro station, through the town, down to the quayside, around the sweeping bay, and out along the pier. Passing the old lighthouses, then Admiral Cunningham standing Nelson-like high above the pier surveying with sightless eyes the area of his birth and the sea beyond. A ubiquitous seagull stood on the good admiral's head, surveying too for tasty morsels. Then a little further along, Tynemouth Castle and Priory appeared on the headland. Once one of the largest fortification areas in England, the now ruined Castle still dominates the headland overlooking the North Sea and the River Tyne. Finally, I was clear of the land and striding along the pier towards my goal, some half a mile away.
There were only a handful of others. A couple who had clearly arranged to meet on the pier and may have been apart for a while, given the warmth of their close hug together and the effusiveness of their greeting. I passed a couple of chaps around my age discussing the merits of several NUFC players. Although tempted to join that discussion, discretion was the best option as significant differences of opinion often flare. Finally, as I reached the lighthouse, I found a young couple snapping photos of each other as a memento of their visit.
My reward for reaching the lighthouse was a majestic view of the vastness of the sea. Although, as I wrote a few weeks back, my nervous reaction to such vastness meant I kept well back from the rail. Preferring to rest my back against the solidity of the lighthouse. Turning to look back to the land offered a panoramic view of North Shields.
Of course, there was the walk back, but by then, buoyed by what I'd seen, it felt like one of those days when I might walk forever. There was a spring to my step, a lightness in my legs and an uncomplaining right knee. But, of course, not every day feels that way. There are walks when my feet and legs feel encased in concrete while the nagging pain in my arthritic knee reminds me of my years. But not that day. That day, fifty years fell away, and I was a young man again striding out under a bright winter sun and enveloped by the sight and smell of the sea.
And given I post this on the day Newcastle United play Manchester United in the Carabao Cup Final, I must mention that this will be the first Cup Final since 1974 in which Newcastle play that I will not witness, 'in the flesh' at Wembley. They have lost them all. Maybe my absence will act as a good omen this time...
Howay the Lads!!
Thanks Will, I have fingers, arms, legs and eyes crossed for NUFC. I was back at the coast yesterday. This time at Seaburn that is just south of South Shields. A wilder day with the waves crashing over the pier they have there. It was not a day to linger long or for lengthy walks.
Another enjoyable missive Harry. I particularly liked the paragraph which included the line “it felt like one of those days when I might walk forever.”