SOUTH GARE feels like the end of the world. It is an artificial finger of land, built on five million tons of Victorian slag, that stretches arthritically into the North Sea to create a protected, dredge-able mouth for the River Tees.
You leave the chip shops of Redcar behind, travel through the light industrial estate that scruffily occupies the site of the ironworking community of Warrenby – only an old chapel, converted into a mechanics’ workshop, survives of its terraces – and rattle over Fisherman’s Crossing, which is the last relic of the railway that was built in the 1860s to transport men and materials out to the end of the world.
This, 150 years ago, is where the world did come to a stop, but today there’s still a couple of manmade miles to drive. On the left are the twisted remains of the blown-up blast furnace and on the right is a moonscape of slag shapes that nature is turning into tufty dunes.
As the road winds along the finger, old hippies have squeezed their flower-covered campervans into sandy nooks with views out to the crashing waves.
The South Gare lighthouse, by Andy Howard of The Northern Echo Camera Club
At the finger’s tip, a lighthouse, completed in 1884, officially marks the end of the land although turning out at sea are the serried ranks of 27 turbines as man, having ransacked the bowels of the earth for fuel, turns his attention to the winds of the wild oceans.
The South Gare wind turbines seen from the south of Redcar. PIcture: Pat Blewitt, The Northern Echo Camera Club
It is a place where industry meets nature, where history meets the future. From the slagwall opened on October 25, 1888, by WH Smith – the First Lord of the Treasury who was the son of the newsagent – we cast our eyes over the steelworks which may one day be the first freeport lorded over by Ben Houchen.
Then we walk over the duckboards through the dunes, serenaded by skylarks which ascend on their chains of melody on either side, onto the beach, where we watch a flock of knots running on tiny, battery-powered legs, back and forth with each wave. They seem perpetually caught between a rock and a hard place: their desperation not to get their toes wet and their desire to get the tiny worms that the outgoing water has revealed – their Latin name, calidris canutus, is said to be a nod to King Canute who also failed to hold back the tide.
Paddy's Hole at South Gare by Raymond Bell, of The Northern Echo Camera Club
On the north side of South Gare is Paddy’s Hole, a safe inlet crammed with small fishing boats and named after the Irish labourers who lived there while taking 24 years to build the finger. It is overlooked by the marine club, which in the Second World War was a submarine base – from as early as 1887 submariners were apparently based here, charged with mining the mouth of the Tees whenever the need arose.
On Saturdays and Sundays, between 10am and 2pm, a cash-only café is open in the club. From the menu scribbled on a whiteboard to the metal-legged tough-topped school tables, it has no pretensions to be more than a hot plate offering breakfasty sausages, bacon, eggs, mushrooms in any combination in baps and buns or on plates. But, as well as dog treats, it also does baked potatoes, giant homemade scones, toasties, and three main courses.
The menu on the whiteboard inside the cafe
The South Gare Marine Club cafe at the end of the boatyard
Theo, our son, would have liked the homemade chicken curry (£7.50) but retreated when told it was hot and joined me in having lasagne (£7.50), while grandma ordered the other special of mince and dumplings (£7).
Petra, my wife, splashed out on double egg and chips (£3.50) plus a portion of mushrooms (50p).
We tossed our teabags into a flip-top bin, poured in milk from a tupperware container and took our seats beneath the model sailing ships on the overhead shelves and the notices on the walls offering a Suzuki outboard motor for £425, a Raymarine Dragonfly Sonar for £150 and a 17ft Wilson Flyer fast fishing boat with a 70hp engine “and extras” for an undisclosed sum.
Petra’s eggs arrived first, fried on the hot plate, but nicely yokey, with a pile of proper chips and definitely 50p’s worth of mushrooms (above).
Next came grandma’s mince and dumplings (above) with loads of peas and a great mound of mash. It was more than she would normally consume in a week. The mince was really fine, although the dumpling was a little hard, but with the extra gravy, it soon softened up and she enjoyed it.
Then came the lasagnes with not just a pile of chips but a mountain (above). My pasta was a little rubbery on one edge, but had plenty of moist meat and mushrooms between the soft sheets and was topped with cheese and tomatoes. It came with a salad of lettuce and tomatoes, but there was none of the garlic bread promised on the whiteboard. We weren’t going to say anything, as the enormity of the chips more than made up for it – I could only manage half of my portion although Theo somehow got through all of his – but then the chef emerged from the hotplate and handed us back 75p each, with an apology.
The whiteboard offered one dessert: cornflake tart and custard (£2.20).
It was, quite simply, amazing (above). If the pile of chips was mountainous, the mound of syrup-infused cornflakes was positively Himalayan, squeezed into the bowl with some sweet Devon custard – “just ask if you want some more” – and then buried deep at the bottom, a layer of pastry and red jam.
The jam broke up the sweetness of the cornflakes, but there was far too much for me and both Petra and grandma weighed in to help. It was enough for three of us, although Theo somehow got through his whole dish on his own.
With teas and coffees, the bill for four came to £34.70, less the £1.50 for the garlic bread refund – extraordinary value.
The cafe on the left of the boatyard
Outside in the boatyard, as we picked our way between Reel Time, Royal Flush and Misty Morn, the wind had picked up. It was whistling through the wires and clanking in the rigging, while up above, huge seagulls were hanging in the air with their beaks to the breeze. South Gare may feel like the end of the world but this was an out of this world experience.
South Gare Marine Club Café
Paddy’s Hole, South Gare Road, Warrenby, Redcar TS10 5NX
Open: 9am-2pm, Saturday and Sunday. Cash only
Ratings
Service 8
Surroundings 6
Food quality 6
Value for money 9
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