“Once the second biggest port in the country…..” reads the legend on the harbourside public art project, well this is hard to imagine as Whitehaven is a barnacle of a harbour, brooding stone walls clinging to a wave wracked, cliff-bound coastline and boasting an entrance that can be terrifying in rough weather (see previous post “White Knuckle to Whitehaven”). Some large amount of EU money must have been poured into the town since the collapse of the Coal industry as it carries its history in a proud and well ‘interpreted’ manner.
Not everybody liked the place however, one of its own, Jean Paul Jones, who sailed from here at the age of thirteen came back as a commander of a US naval vessel during the war of independence, spiking the guns of the shore batteries and sinking shipping around the coast ~ he must have had a bone or two to pick!
We are harboured here whilst making forays up and down the coast, workshopping with regional arts groups, discussing their connections with the local communities and the environment. Our plans to visit Barrow in Furness in the boat are abandoned as the English summer continues to emulate the Icelandic winter, howling winds driving breakers over the harbour mole - we happily revert to land lubbers!