Beadnell Limekilns ....... and more ......

Beadnell, a delightful village on the coast of Northumberland, has a stunning shoreline which at times is as wild as it can be calm and peaceful. Pounded by waves whipped up by high winds, white horses rush for the beach, riding the crests of the waves before breaking upon the rocks or hurling themselves against the sea wall. This is the sea at its magnificent best, a time to admire from afar, to fear and respect in equal measure. I love it. And when the storms abate, a tranquil, more sedate ocean laps the coast, gently touching the rocks with salty kisses before sprinkling splashes of white around dune and rock.
Beadnell, an ancient village, was in all probability established in Saxon times. Bronze Age burial chambers have been found along the shore, and the remains of an ancient chapel were discovered in 1853 on the headland of Ebb's Nook. Excavations suggested that the building erected on this spot was dedicated to St. Ebba shortly after the arrival of
Christianity in Northumberland. For a small place, Beadnell has an interesting history. During the 18th century, the popular Beadnell races took place along the sands. However, tragedy struck in 1794 when one of the riders was killed, and the races were no more. Sandstone and coal seams run out to sea, and mining took place here until early Victorian times when seemingly more lucrative activities came to the fore.
By the 19th century, Beadnell was an important fishing village. A century earlier it had the unenviable - or maybe enviable - reputation of being a first class resort for smugglers. One of their secret hideouts, a hidden vault, was disovered on the Farne Islands during the restoration of the Chapel of St. Cuthbert. A wonderful haul was seized by customs officers on a particularly eventful September day in 1762 - though not for the unfortunate Scottish smugglers involved - when they stumbled upon 2,700 gallons of brandy, 400 gallons of rum, 23 hogsheads of wine and some tea, presumably for the hangover!!
You want more fascinating facts? Of course you do. Beadnell has the only west-facing port on the east coast of England. Cool eh ..... Limestone is also present around the village, and to exploit this profitable commodity, the first kilns were built here in 1747. Next problem? Exporting this commodity. To facilitate this, the harbour was built. Limekilns needed coal to operate. Hey presto, coal seams were also present in Beadnell. And so it grew in importance, this quiet little village. Fishing was also rapidly expanding, the exporting of fish and lime as well as salt made a better harbour a neccessity, and by 1798 the pier had been built and a gentleman by the name of Richard Pringle found this an ideal spot on which to construct his limekiln. However, herring fishing was set to overtake lime in importance and Beadnell fast became the main herring fishing village on the north-east coast. In fact, so the story goes, one thousand fishermen entered the harbour one evening in 1828 to shelter from a storm. 1822 had seen the decline of the poor old limekilns, by this time used to cure herring. Today they have been rescued and restored by the National Trust and are used as stores by the local fishermen.
I love it here in Beadnell, stormy skies, angry waves, howling winds, Mother Nature showing just why she is in charge of our world and not ourselves as we would often like to believe. Wander among the sand dunes, stretching as far south as the eye can see, wonder at the power of the sea, feel the wind in your hair, taste the saltiness of the water clinging to your lips. Then pop along to the Craster Arms for a lovely meal and well-deserved drink. This friendly inn was once Beadnell Tower, a three-storeyed pele-tower built in the 16th century. And much of the original building still survives - the vaulted basement now used as a beer cellar, the remains of the newel staircase which led to the next floor, an old fireplace on the ground floor, and the walls which in places are eight feet thick. When you are suitably refreshed take a turn around the village. Discover the Beadnell Tower Hotel - a former granary - the chapel on the green originally built in 1740 and rebuilt in 1860 ..... go see it all for yourself. My fingers need a rest, they are not as nimble as they once were, so it is over to you .........        

Dunbar Castle

Overlooking the harbour at Dunbar are the remains of what was once one of Scotland's mightiest castles. Now in a dangerous and very precarious state, public access has not been allowed since part of the ruins collapsed into the sea in 1993. Only seabirds sit upon the ancient walls, raising their young, swooping down from their mighty perch to dive among the waves  before returning to their nests in their own particular corner of Scottish history.

As with many of Scotland's castles, a long and varied history has attached itself to Dunbar Castle. Roman excursions into this proud north-of-the-border country saw the Votanich tribe build defences on this rocky outcrop. A Northumbrian stronghold in 650AD, it later became a Pictish fortress until it was captured by a Scottish army under Kenneth MacAlpin in 849AD. It is believed that the first stone castle was constructed in the 1070s by the Earl of Dunbar, attacked by the English in 1214, somewhat unsuccessfully, and again in 1296 by Edward I who had better luck than the previous onslaught. Dunbar Castle fell out of favour after offering a safe haven to Edward II following the Battle of Bannockburn in 1314. Refortified in 1333, perhaps its most famous moment came in 1338 when Agnes Randolph of Dunbar - or Black Agnes - made an historic defence of the castle during a sustained five month siege by the English.

Still awake? I know you all love my history lessons, so let me continue. The poor old castle was rebuilt in the early 1400s before repelling yet another Englsh siege in 1435, again suffering severe damage at their hands in 1448. All these dates, and not a red rose or a box of chocs in sight! Dunbar Castle was once more put back together in 1515, just in time for the English to throw themselves at it in 1548. You can just picture them sat back waiting for the fortifications to go up before popping out of their tents to pull it all down again. Bit like a child with a box of lego. On 24th April 1567 the tragic figure of Mary Queen of Scots was brought to Dunbar Castle following her abduction by the Earl of Bothwell. The couple later returned to the castle after their marriage on May 15th. When Mary surrendered and abdicated, the Scottish Parliament ordered the destruction of the castle, fearing that its influence was so strong its possession destabilised the balance of power in Scotland.

Poor Dunbar Castle - loved, hated, scourge of the English, a thorn in the side of the Scots, pulled down, built up, pulled down again. Its final indignity came in 1844 with the construction of the Victoria Harbour. A new entrance for Dunbar's harbours was blasted through the end of the rock on which this proud castle stood. Even progress, it would seem, had little respect for this landmark of Scottish history. Once upon a time its body of buildings measured in excess of 165 feet from east to west, and in places up to 210 feet from north to south. The south battery is situated on a detached perpendicular rock, 72 feet high, only accessible on one side. The interior of the citadel was octagonal in shape. Around the middle of the fortress part of a wall can still be seen, through which there is a gateway. It is thought this led to the principal apartments. Contained within the north west section of the ruins is an apartment twelve feet square, virtually inaccessible, which tradition dictates was the apartment of Mary Queen of Scots. A natural cavern lies to the noth-east of the castle front, which supposedly formed part of the dungeons where prisoners were confined.  

If you all feel like a lie down in a darkened room now, then feel free. But I love history, love castles, love the sea. And when they all come together as they frequently do in Scotland, there is no stopping me.