Runswick Bay

White House Runswick Bay

 Oil on canvas 50cm x 40cm. Brushes used: numbers 1, 3 and 9

Sheltered from the north winds by Lingrow Knowle, the quaint village of Runswick Bay with its white painted cottages and neat gardens looks out on one of the loveliest bays in the north of England. 

This picturesque bay, fringed with golden sand, provided safe anchorage for fishing boats for more than 600 years and when the industry began to decline, its unique setting attracted first artists and then holidaymakers.

The village has 40 permanent residents although a popular in summer, the winter months offer peace and tranquillity. 

The Landslip

The original village of Runswick Bay lay slightly to the north on the other side of Lingrow Beck but in one tragic night in 1664 the village slid into the sea. 

Many of the villagers were attending a wake when a latecomer noticed the steps to the house slip away under his feet. Looking out, the alarmed mourners saw the ground slide several feet down the cliff. Escaping from the back of the house, they roused the rest of the village, most of whom ran to safety. 

By morning every house had fallen into the sea, except one – the house of the dead man.

The village was rebuilt but the land has continued to slip, so in 1970 a new sea wall was built to prevent further damage. 1962 saw the opening of the new road, leaving the old one as a pleasant winding path from the top car park. 

Formerly the coastguard’s house the Thatched Cottage shown in my painting is now a Grace and Favour residence of the Marquis of Normanb. 

A feature of Runswick Bay which has all but disappeared is the essential ‘bink’. Every cottage had a 2’6” high stone called a bink standing outside the front door on which to do the washing and any other outdoor tasks. Unfortunately only a few remain.

Smuggling provided a source of income as the village’s isolation made it easy for fishing boats to land illegal goods. The smugglers were forewarned of danger by a large white owl which perched on the inn sign and hooted until the danger had passed. 

The original village of Runswick Bay lay slightly further to the north but in one tragic night in 1682 the village slid into the sea.

Many of the villagers were attending a wake when a latecomer noticed the steps to the house slip away under his feet. Escaping from the back of the house, they roused the rest of the village, most ran to safety.

By morning every house had fallen into the sea, except one. No-one knows which house survived, but they do say it was that of the diseased!

Like most seafaring communities, the people of Runswick Bay were very superstitious and many local legends grew up associated with the fishing industry. 

Many of the older people of the coastal villages can still recall the omens of disaster that the fishermen respected. If a fisherman saw a woman whilst walking down to his coble in the morning, he would return home and not go fishing that day. Similarly, if someone talked of pigs to a fisherman he knew his catch would be too small for it to be worthwhile him putting to sea.

Victorian writers mention children lighting fires on the cliff top during a storm and dancing and singing: “Southern Wind, southern, and Blow father home to mother.”

They also maintain the wives of fishermen sacrificing a cat when the fleet returned safely after a severe storm.

Perhaps the most famous legend is that connected with the caves at the bottom of Runswick bay. Near the village, is a cave in the alum-rock, formed by the operation of the tide. This cave, which is named Hob-hole, has been deemed the residence of a spirit named Hob who was supposed to possess the power of curing the hooping-cough.

The patient was carried into the cave by its parent, who with loud voice thus invoked the demigod of the place: "Hob-hole Hob! my bairn's (child) got kink-cough; take't off, take't off." It is not many years since this idolatrous practice was laid aside.