William (Bill) Martin was an overlooked poet from the second half of the twentieth century, who is now considered by some as the finest Northeast poet of his generation. His poetry and his memory are celebrated every year with the Marratide Pilgrimage, a walk from Sunderland to Durham and its cathedral.
“I walked in this valley
Of the magic apple tree
I talked to a piping shepherd
Stooked corn tumbling down
I ate a red apple there
Full branches bending over
I touched the steeple pointer
Gold-tipped among barton ricks”
-William Martin, The magic apple tree
We all gathered in a pleasant and unpretentious little cul-de-sac in Sunderland, at about 8:15 on a beautiful Saturday morning. It was 20 June, the nearest Saturday to the summer solstice.
As we gathered, we were offered chocolate and orange juice and juicy red apples for later in the day before a short talk from Bill Martin’s son Graham, introducing the walk and why it takes place every year. Then we were given the opportunity to introduce each other. We also admired the new flag honouring William, which would be taken all the way to Durham.
We were then treated to some of William Martin’s poetry on tape and heard his strong, proud Northern voice from down the years.
We heard a poem about St Kilda and primitive socialism and courtship, followed by the poignant Durham Beatitudes about pit disasters on the Durham coalfield.
The pilgrimage begins
After a communal photo, we set off at about 9am for our pilgrimage to Durham, making our way, with still fresh legs up Tunstall Hill, with fine views of the sea and the coast stretching down to the North Yorkshire Moors on the horizon to the south.
Soon we were at our first resting place at Silksworth Sports Centre on the edge of Sunderland where we were able to take a toilet break, where the ‘Stalinist’ hand dryer was the subject of a number of photographs from aficionados among the group.
We then successfully climbed Warden Law, which was also remembered as the last resting place for the body of St. Cuthbert on his long journey from Lindisfarne to his final resting place at Durham. As we stopped and recovered breath after the climb, we could admire the views as far as the North Yorkshire Moors to the south and the Cheviots on the Scottish border to the north. Meanwhile we were treated to more poems from Bill Martin about Warden Law, which we thankfully were able to hear over the sound of the go-karting centre at the bottom of the hill…
After another short stretch we stopped at the Frallo pub in Houghton le Spring for lunch at 12.15. Here we had lunch and were able to enjoy wonderful views of the Pennines on the far horizon to the west, while Durham itself was hidden in the valley of the River Wear.
Suitably rested and refreshed we set off again for Durham with a short climb to a group of trees known as the Seven Sisters, although there are only five of them now!
From there we made our way to Hetton Bog, which may not sound inviting, but is actually a delightful place with abundant wildlife , including water voles, wood anemones, fly agaric mushrooms, Himalayan Balsam flowers, while in the air fly the four-spotted chaser and the beautiful kingfisher.
The last leg of the journey
We had now walked for over ten miles and during the long, wooded stretch to the south of East and West Rainton, we really began to feel it. Finally, we got to the cross-roads at Pittington and the prize of reaching Durham was within reach.
With our legs aching and my own thighs beginning to feel like lumps of concrete, we made the symbolic journey under the A1(M) motorway and into Dragonville. We had made it to Durham!
However, it was still a couple of miles onto Durham city centre and our journey’s end. Some decided to take a break at a hotel in Dragonville, but I decided to push on, concerned that I might not get started again!
We made our way out of the built-up area into the countryside south of Dragonville and soon got a reward for all our efforts that day, with a wonderful view of the east end of Durham Cathedral away across a wheatfield, standing tall and strong on its peninsula on a bend in the River Wear.
Having made my way down to the River Wear, my ears were assailed by noise coming out of Durham Amateur rowing club, but on a sunny June Saturday afternoon, nothing could dispel the feeling of achievement as the beautiful cathedral, the resting place of Cuthbert and Bede loomed ever larger on the horizon.
A journey through the heart of the North East
This was a long, but very satisfying walk, remembering the poetry and life of William Martin. It was also a journey through the heart of the Northeast, both physically and metaphorically, to Durham with its final resting place of our patron saint, St. Cuthbert.
I couldn’t have wished for more supportive and friendly people to walk with, including the writer and author Jake Morris-Campbell and his fellow Northumbrian poet Peter Armstrong.
I asked Peter for his thoughts on the walk and why it takes place every year:
” We are remembering two marvellous auto-didacts. William Martin, known as Bill , the most beautiful of this of the late 20th century and Gordon D. Brown, who was an activist, songwriter and poet, blazed his trail at the time of the Miners Strike.
It is about honouring their memory and making new marras every year.”
It was a long walk, but I am now so glad I did it.
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