Hadrians CycleWay (Ravenglass to Seascale)

I woke before it was completely light feeling as though I’d contracted some medieval disease. My mouth was dry, my head was pounding and my stomach felt as if I’d been drinking old engine oil.

I lay there for a brief moment wondering what the hell had befallen me. Then with a sinking feeling it all came flooding back, the pub, the search for the campsite, the cows…. 

“This is not going to be a good day.”I observed surveying my cow shit splattered clothes.

Thus it was that I found myself leaving Ravenglass feeling like death, battling against a strong head wind. The route led me to the small attractive seaside resort of Seascale which had originally been a Norse settlement.

The settlement of this village and many like it up and down the Cumbrian coast came at a time when Norway was ruled by a rather fiery king who answered to the name Harald Fairhair. When he became a king, Norway was made up of 31 small independent kingdoms each with its own chief or king, his was a coastal land known as Vestfold.

All was well in Harald’s little world until the day he chanced upon the daughter of the king of a neighbouring kingdom, a comely lass by the name of Gyda. To say that he was bowled over would be to underestimate the effect she had on him completely, he was beyond that, way way beyond that, his long boat had been well and truly rocked. The thought of her filled his days and nights and when he could bear the strain on the front of his breeches no longer, he proposed, only to be told, after a tantalising pause, to sling his hook.

Well, as you can no doubt imagine, this was an entirely unexpected and unwelcome development and he was not too sure of what to make of it. As he stood staring at her in patent disbelief, dark thoughts began to stir in the recesses of his blood starved brain.

Sensing he was none too happy about any of this and realising where all this was heading, the artful Gyda gently informed him that she would only agree to be his wife if he would subdue the whole of Norway, as only then could she be called the queen of an entire nation, which was what she desired.

This change in direction completely wrong footed our friend who after a moment of befuddled hesitation declared. “ Why, what a wonderful idea, I wish I’d thought about it!” and then proceeded to make a solemn vow not to cut, shampoo or comb his hair until he had subdued the whole of Norway or had died trying.

 “You’re not going to do what?”She asked with rising incredulity.

“I’m not going to cut my hair.” He answered a trifle lamely.

“Yes that’s what I thought you said - no I don’t want to know why.” She said interrupting him.

“Well, better get started then, no time to waste.” He said shouldering his battle axe feeling murderously energised.

“Give me bloody strength, well at least that’s the last we’ll see of him around here.” She thought with a huge sigh of relief.

And so it was that he set forth and happily spent the next ten years slashing, hacking and burning his way across Norway until the last kingdom had fallen. Throughout this rather dispiriting period many of the vanquished people decided not unsurprisingly to vote with their oars. Gathering up their few remaining intact possessions, they loaded their long-boats and headed west. As they came from one of the great seafaring nations they knew where they were headed and in no time time had settled in Iceland, the Scottish Islands, Ireland and the Isle of Man to name but a few of their destinations.

After having turned the country into a blood soaked smoking ruin, our hero, sporting a hairstyle that looked like the aftermath of an explosion in a coir mattress factory, proudly presented himself to his soon to be wife who took one look at him and thought “Oh fuck me, how in Odin’s name has this happened?”

Well, believe me that’s precisely what he did, and with some vigour I might add, producing no less than 18 children. After Gyda’s reluctant acceptance of her fate Harald had his hair done and instead of being known as Harald the coir mattress became known as Harald Fairhair.

This uneasy peace was not to last however, the Vikings who had relocated to the various islands in the west were totally unimpressed by this Fairhair business and took every opportunity to plunder and burn the towns along the coast of Norway. This proved an immense irritation to Harald, who after having suffered a year or two of these summer raids, broke off from the sticky business of creating a family, launched his fleet and set off to kick some butt. He was absolutely relentless in their pursuit and whenever he caught up with these hapless souls he waded in with a ferocity that was staggering, he spared no one. Word of this carnage soon reached the settlers on the Isle of Man and in Ireland who rather than face his wrath, bolted for Cumbria. 

All of which brings us back to the story of Seascale.  After this initial settlement not much happened until the 1800s and the arrival of the railway. The railway boss, Sir James Ramsden, a fiercely loyal Cumbrian, promoted an ambitious plan to turn it into a holiday resort, which had it been completed, would have stretched 1.5 miles along the coast. In the event only a few houses and a hotel were ever built and it went back to being the quiet and peaceful farming community it had always been.