It takes a while to track down a taxi driver who understands where we want to go, but eventually we get lucky – a lovely man from Belford, three miles south west of Ross. The weather is turning and rain clouds are slowly covering up the only patch of blue sky.

We leave the scattering of buildings that is Ross and head for the coast – it doesn’t take long before waterproofs are needed, although it is just a drizzle at the moment.

We remain cheerful – Damian was brought up in Fort William in Scotland and myself in Llandrindod Wells in mid Wales. Both were considered areas with higher than average annual rainfall.

We make our way though the dunes of Ross Links and into Lindisfarne Nature Reserve, an important refuge for protected shore birds such as ducks, geese and waders.

As we approach a warden emerges from his temporary home and marches purposefully towards us. It looks like he’s going to marshal us out of the reserve and my heart sinks. But no – all he wants is to tell us all about the UK terns nesting in the area and to give us a go on his binoculars.

We thank him for the information as to where to see the terns, but sadly we see none.

The sandy beach gradually morphs into mudflats as we circle Budle Bay.

Crossing the burn at Ross Low and heading south towards Warren Mill.

Once a corn mill, it ceased operations in 1980 and was later redeveloped into residential apartments.

Coming out on to a road I notice that the coast path sign has an interesting addition – only accessible in June and July due to sensitivity around coastal birds – we have been lucky.

At Warren Mill the map indicates a short inland loop to avoid the narrow road over a bridge – we decide to risk it. There is now a short stretch of tarmac as we follow the road up the eastern side of the bay, until we turn off onto a quiet path. Despite the grey day there are some magnificent views across the sands.

A little later the path leads us down the side of a row of summer lets – Heather Cottages.

………………..with a handy bench to eat our sandwiches and enjoy the view.

Twists and turns of the river………….

Skirting the dunes for about a mile we hit the road again just before Black Rocks Point and make our way down onto the sand – Bamburgh Castle ahead……

It is an impressive spread, towering over the sands – an awe inspiring sight for visitors and enemies alike. Here follows a potted history…………

The castle’s history dates back to AD547, when it was just a fortified wooden stockade defended by the Anglo Saxons. There then followed a series of bloody attacks by rival kingdoms including those pesky Vikings. After the Norman invasion of 1066 (we all remember that don’t we?), it still took thirty years for the Normans to wrest control of the castle. Over a period of two hundred years the castle went through many reincarnations including a royal palace, which was then destroyed during the War of the Roses; a charitable centre, run by a local philanthropist Dr. John Sharp and a coastguard station. It then fell into complete disrepair only to be saved in 1894 by Lord Armstrong, a visionary inventor and industrialist, whose descendents are now responsible for the upkeep of the castle and maintain it as a family residence. Some of the rooms can also be let as self catering holiday accommodation – imagine………..

We walk off the beach and circle the mount trying to find the best path up to the entrance.

On the way up we pass a stone cross set into the cliff – a reminder that the castle was once the home of St.Oswald.

And here is the entrance – the arch was apparently built high enough to accommodate a galloping horse plus rider .

And just inside is a memorial in granite to the great Lord Armstrong, without whom the castle would not have survived.

We take a quick look around and resolve to come back tomorrow

I love this chair…………

It is still raining so we go down to the converted stables for a cup of tea. In the next stall, a beautiful boxer with a stern gaze surveys the scene.

It is now time to be thinking about moving on but we are both a bit chilly and wet so we decide to call it a day and get the bus back to Seahouses – and we make it by the skin of our teeth.

Distance: 10 miles