We are delighted to see a blue sky today – the first one for four days. Small puffy clouds float lazily across the sky and what’s more important, there is hardly any wind.

Dropped off at the small carpark at Kirton Marsh we climb up on to the sea wall and my eye catches this quaint little wind pump presumably used in the constant battle against flooding – it doesn’t seem to be very effective as part of the field is under water.

……and on the other side of the path the salt marshes are also studded with tranquil pools of water – I love the shape of this one.

After a mile or so the path takes a sharp left and then right into Frampton Marsh. To our left are a series of lagoons, their size increased by recent flooding, and the air is full of the sound of joyful birdsong. Damian has a bird identification app which singles out redshanks, oyster catchers, finches, brent geese and skylarks. It is very peaceful – we take a moment to sit on a bench and listen.

Moving on we find ourselves on the Macmillan Way again, as it follows the south bank of a tidal river which runs through Boston – marked on the map as The Haven.

By now we are a bit peckish but can’t really find anywhere to sit and have lunch. Finally we reach an overgrown stile and perch on either side to eat. Later that evening we discover that we may have disturbed an ant hill, as Damian’s arms and legs are covered in bites – I seem to have escaped.

Industrial buildings are now appearing on the other side of the river and to our left a sign for a landfill site which seems to be closed. Further research reveals that construction has begun on this site to build a “landfill solar park”, which is estimated to generate enough electricity to power 2,900 households.

And I assume that this building is part of the rubbish disposal plant – or is it a distant cousin of the Pompidou Centre in Paris?

Enough …….

A little further up the river we come to a halt in front of a fence with no entry signs and are directed down the bank to follow Footpath 14 signs. I had no idea we were on footpath 14 and it’s not marked on the map, but off we go, down the side of a bright blue metal shed, following it down a narrow grass track with a high fence on one side.

The track opens up into an industrial estate, where we spend a little while wondering where to go, until we spy the faithful little red footpath sign on a lampost in the far corner. Our coast walk takes us to the most glamorous of places sometimes.

Reaching the outskirts of the city we follow a narrow cycle path up to a very busy main road. In front of us is a woman walking quite comfortably with no shoes on. It reminds me of a family holiday in the beginning of my hippy phase – I must have been fifteen or so. Dressed in a full length kaftan with toilet chains dangling around my neck, I refused to wear any shoes, which was fine when walking on the beach, but this hallmark of teenage rebellion also extended to main roads and high streets. I’m sure my parents were mortified but I don’t remember them saying anything.

We follow the woman across a bridge over the river and it takes a while before we realise that we are thankfully on the wrong road.

Having turned around with a sigh of relief – the road was very busy – we take a much quieter minor road, over a bridge and past a revamped buoy which stands by the side of the road, overlooking the Haven and the Port of Boston. The sculpture is entwined with what’s meant to be seaweed, and features quotes from local residents telling of important journeys. I imagine there have been many, as over the past 20 years the town has seen a huge influx of migrant workers, mainly from Eastern Europe.

I later discover that the buoy is one of six installations placed around the city to celebrate Boston’s rich heritage and maritime connections.

Here is another one…….

On we walk past a handful of serious looking fishing boats and then through residential streets to the market square overlooked by a huge church with a strange lumpy spire. We cannot linger however as we still have a couple of miles to go.

Crossing the River Witham, we head south on a minor road running almost parallel with the northern bank of The Haven. At one point we pass some official looking heritage buildings backing on to a row of enormous grain silos. How on earth did those responsible obtain planning permission for this?

And a while later as we turn off the road onto a footpath we are treated to this unexpected pocket of tranquility.

By now we are very tired, it has been a long day and the last stage of our journey to rejoin our car is along a road with no verges, just fields of churned up mud. So we are very pleased to finally round a corner and see the welcoming sign of the pub in Fishtoft.

Distance: 12 miles