"Rambles about Home. In Lincolnshire" by W.H., 1865

From "The Youth's Magazine", 1865

Rambles about Home.
IN LINCOLNSHIRE. W.H. [initials of author only are given]

PEOPLE who object to travel in districts where tunnels are numerous should take a trip by the "Great Northern," up the eastern coast of Lincolnshire. They will there be indulged with a ride of about seventy miles, from Deeping to Grimsby, free from tunnels, if we except a small one just after leaving Boston. Indeed, though Lincolnshire is the second county in England for size, and is well supplied with railways, there are only two or three of these inconveniences in the whole county.

Some drawbacks, of course, there are on this account; for where there is no necessity for tunnels, the land must be flat and it is generally low as well; and, as a necessary consequence, the pleasing varieties of hill and dale are absent. ..... Those raised causeways that we sometimes pass are called Droves............ In addition to these causeways it was often necessary to use stilts; and so common was the practice that the inhabitants of the fens were for many ages called stiltwalkers. These people kept very large flocks of geese and other water-fowl among the fens; and every Christmas they sent so many up to London by the mail coaches that passengers could not be allowed a seat............

...............our train reached Grimsby, where our party remained for the night. The next morning, I and a friend who wished to join in an adventure, set out for Cleethorpes. We soon got on the sands, and after walking nearly three miles in a southerly direction, we found ourselves at Cleethorpes, a charming spot not surpassed as a bathing-place by any town on the eastern coast of Lincolnshire. Spurn Head is only eight miles off; the Yorkshire coast for many miles is visible, and the junction of the Humber with the German Ocean causes the waters to present a breadth of eight or ten miles. That which surprised us was the vast expanse of sand which lay before us. the tide was receding, and we followed it. On and on we went towards the south-east, still allured by the prospect of getting a better view of the German Ocean. Sometimes we were driven from our course by the oyster beds that lay in our road; here and there a boat was left on the sand by the receding tide, the owners sauntering about waiting for the returning waters. Every moment the immense area of sand increased in extent and tempted us further and further from the line where persons more experienced would have made a pause. Stragglers on the sand, who were a mile nearer the coast than ourselves, had set their faces towards the shore before we perceived that the tide had turned. A long white line of foam, nearly a yard in height, which broke close to our feet, followed by another and another, left us no room for doubt or hesitation. With hasty steps, which frequently broke into a trot, we turned our backs on the waves. Where there was the slightest depression in the sands the waters rushed forward and seemed to take a malicious delight in sending us out of our way. These obstacles soon became so numerous and so deep that we were obliged to hastily strip off the lower part of our dress and then make our way through the watery barriers. In an incredibly short time, ponds of alarming extent stretched themselves in all directions, while a broad and deep stream, which had set in towards the land, completely cut off our retreat in that direction. Finding that this was a creek running to the shore, we ran by the side of it, and to our delight reached a place where a boat was gradually rising with the waters and preparing for setting out on a fishing excursion. The fishermen perceiving our condition kindly helped us over the creek, and directed us how to reach a place of safety. I never think of the danger into which my imprudence had led me, and the unexpected means by which I escaped, without feeling a firmer confidence in that divine Providence which watches all our steps and overrules all our actions. On reaching Cleethorpes, we took our places on the top of one of the omnibuses which run to Grimsby, from which place we took the train to Barton-on-Humber, a distance of about twenty miles. The railway from Grimsby gradually leaves the banks of the Humber till it reaches Ulceby, five miles from the coast, and afterwards runs in a straight line down to the very water's edge at New Holland................