Mini breaks: Saltburn by the Sea

It was nothing fancy, served in a polystyrene carton with a small, wooden fork. But it seemed to melt in my mouth: the fish fell apart into moist, steaming flakes; the chips were crisp, crunchy and lightly sprinkled with salt. 

The girl, her cheeks flushed with heat, said it was down to the dripping which was “fresh” (if dripping can be fresh) every day. The glutinous oil spat and sizzled in front of her, a pool of mini geysers.

My massive portion of cod and chips cost less than five pounds and came from the hatch of The Fish Shop at Saltburn-by-the-Sea, ten miles east of Middlesbrough on the north east coast.

Once a popular Victorian resort with its pier, promenade and cliff lift, today it’s largely overlooked as holidaymakers make a beeline for Scarborough. For there are no souvenir shops, amusement arcades or fairgrounds at Saltburn, just rolling surf and swathes of shingle-edged sand. Visit out of season and you need share the beach only with swooping gulls. 

The approach is via a single coast road that drops so steeply I feared it was going to dump me on the sand. The slither of tarmac runs along the shore for barely 300 yards before heading inland again, climbing through fields towards Whitby. Follow it without thinking and you’ll miss the seafront altogether.

The afternoon I visited the tide was out, revealing a stretch of damp sand crossed by an endless pier whose furthest stilts straddled the sea. A woman strode past with her dogs. A surfer peeled off her wetsuit. Two children in anoraks and wellies somersaulted over the railings along the promenade.

I finished my fish and chips, grabbed a waterproof and headed into the wind.

The pier, built in 1869, was the first on Cleveland’s coast. Within six months of opening it attracted 50,000 visitors, turning the town into an upmarket Victorian resort. Steamers offering trips between Hartlepool and Scarborough began stopping en route, so passengers could enjoy the novelty of strolling over the waves. Soon all the talk was of Saltburn.

Today, the pier’s old ticket booths stand empty at the base of the cliffs. Opposite, a couple of red trams (part of the town’s water-powered cliff lift) sit side by side, braving the drizzle as they await the new season. They’ve shunted up and down the rocks for more than 130 years, making the funicular one of the oldest in Britain.

From the top there are sweeping views of the coast: to the west, the sand stretches for miles; to the east it ends abruptly at Huntcliff, a headland whose wooded coves were a favourite haunt of smugglers.

The rock is a dull reddish-brown colour, stained with iron ore. But at dusk it seems almost luminescent, streaked with claret and gold. At its base huddle three sandy-coloured fishermen’s cottages and the gabled Ship Inn. Fishing boats and a rickety tractor line its car park.

A figurehead stands over the inn’s door. Her wooden skirt billows as if caught in the wind. She holds a hanky, clasps her chest and looks, rather mournfully, out to sea. I follow her gaze but spot only the red hulls of cargo ships on the glassy horizon.

The other side of the road a small park nestles in the valley. Two streams, the Skelton Beck and the Saltburn Gill, meet here, almost at right angles. The clear waters of the Beck rush past leaving the rusty-coloured sludge of the Gill to shift slowly seaward.

The Gill’s polluted with ochre. More than 1000 tons have been washed into it since an abandoned iron mine flooded ten years ago. The ochre comes at a rate of 10 tons a year. A notice explains this to visitors: an official admission, of sorts, that something needs to be done.

As the afternoon sun breaks through the clouds, the water glistens. Strangely, it looks rather pretty. But a moment later the shimmer returns to sludge. Saltburn grew rich from steel in the 1850s but now it’s paying for it.

Back at the fish and chip shop the girl has finished for the day. She takes off her apron and closes the hatch. The shutters shudder to a close.

Above, on the cliffs, stands the once popular Alexandra hotel, it’s imposing Victorian façade now the face of holiday flats. Below, a small café overlooks the sea. A sign in the door says it’s “happy to welcome visitors”. A cheery waiter offers me a seat by the window, not that there’s anyone else there.

Through the salt-stained glass the view is liberating: empty sand, smoothed by the sea, glistens after the recent drizzle. Storm clouds gather overhead, but the pier, the endless pier, seems to stretch on and on, beyond the furthest, rain-laden cloud.

Members Comments

• Comment by: Homshaw 04 November 2011 - 19:36

  Saltburn has a fine beach. It streches for miles past Redcar and up to the mouth of the Tees.
  
  There is some great walking in the area. In the summer Saltburn to Saithes is a fine cliff top walk - as is Saithes to Whitby

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