Took a traditional (if two
years can constitute a tradition) Fathers’ Day walk, this year with the elder
daughter, along the Cleveland Way from the Victorian resort of Saltburn via the
high cliffs, littered with reminders of the nineteenth century industrial
inroads to the landscape with minerals extracted without sympathy to the
environment, to the more prosaic, almost defunct, little fishing village of
Skinningrove, overshadowed by the ironstone spoil dumped thereabout; the twin
heritage of fishing and mining being commemorated by an impressive artwork en
route consisting a selection of cast ironwork images suspended within a winding
wheel - the completion of our seven mile walk was commemorated with ice creams
back at Saltburn.
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