Loes had been invited to visit her ex-neighbours in St Bees so they could exchange the latest news.

I took the opportunity to walk the dogs while she drunk tea and would no doubt be chatting the afternoon away. 

On the drive over to St Bees Loes diverted via Tarn Flatts and dropped me off, so I could do a linear walk to St Bees along the cliffs.

Beautifully clear visibility as I exit the farm area and look north to Dumfries and Galloway over there in Scotland.

Ahead is the lighthouse, its outline is looking a little fuzzy today.

The reason is that it is undergoing essential maintenance.

At the edge of the cliff is the old fog horn that used to warn shipping of danger when the visibility was poor.

Out to sea . . . that's the Isle of Man some 31 miles away.

To the north, views of Scotland once again.

I think it's the Mull of Galloway with the Whithorn Peninsular in a slightly darker shade, alongside the coastguard building.

The cliff top fence is being repaired and there's an off-road caterpillar tractor to cope with the uneven ground.

Occasionally there's a gate and a viewing area which allows you to get closer to the edge.

Another viewing area and another set of red sandstone cliffs.

The white is guano, the excrement of the birds, is an obvious clue to their nesting sites,

however the only birds flying today were the occasional cormorants, "gulls" and ravens.

In lieu of the birds, I photographed the most westerly colony of Boletus mushrooms I had found.

A steady walk along the coast path brings the Southern Head and its sheer cliffs into sight.

Looking back at th last of the Northern Headland and more potential bird nesting sites.

The rarest and most famous of residents, during early summer, is the the Black Guillemot

Washed and dried in the sun . . . it was time to move on.

I turn my back and see Fleswick Bay and the lighthouse for the last time on the walk.

My eye was caught by the late summer hairbells growing close to the fence.

Close to the highest point of the head, the fence takes a right angle turn . . .

. . . which leads down to some old earthworks and foundations.

The clue is the squat remains on the other side of the fence, which are all that remains of a war-time coastal look out position.

The foundations are not roman but modern Anglo Saxon, dating from the 1940's

and would have the base of an old barrack building for Coastguard staff.

Nowadays the remains of the brick and cement lookout have been commandeered as a tourist viewpoint,

with suitable information boards on three sides, each highlighting the view.

"Looking south from the South Head lookout" . . . a phrase I coined at the time and one that has stayed in the brain till now.

The dogs appear to have left me and gone over to greet the next visitors to this popular location.

The path now heads down to the coastal town of St Bees, its size swollen by a significant caravan park situated towards this end.

	- - - o o o - - - The path seems to follow the line of an old wall as it stands proud of the surrounding fields on a significant ridge.     The dogs walk the line despite the adjacent grass field being an easier route down.     - - - o o o - - -

The path continues straight until it can no longer.    On the turn we look down on the wide vista of the bay at St Bees.

Below us is a rectangular gap in the bedrock of the headland.  This was a pre-war open air swimming pool which in the olden days

held back the seawater and give the locals a low tide swimming area.   The cost of manning a lifeguard service became prohibitive

and the outer wall was destroyed to stop the creators of the pool from being liable for any problems that might have occurred

should it be used by swimmers without safety backup.   Political correctness is not a new thing it seems.

The stream that drains the land between here and the hamlet of Rottingham reaches the sea at this point.

Rottingham beck has a shingle bank blocking free access to the sea and the water drains away through the stones.

Another legacy of the heyday of the town as a major beach resort are the groynes.

These were designed to stop the sand being washed away by the tidal currents, but have subsequently fallen into disrepair.

The beach seems to cope perfectly well without them.     Like Fleswick Bay, there's plenty of sand at low tide.

One thing which has survived better is the beach side cafe . . . which sells local Hartley's ice cream.

This magical confectionary is only second to Buttermere ice cream for those of you that need to know these facts.

Despite the queue, I waited at the window in order to purchase two cornets.

After all my lift had arrived and it would be churlish to enjoy one on my own in her company !