What did Jesmond student Bert do during Storm Bert?
His bike tyre deflating slowly as booming waves caused by Storm Bert crashed onto the Tynemouth shore, Jesmond student Bertie (or Bert) Merrifield had choices to make. Try to carry on his impromptu journey to the Scottish border with a flat tyre? Abandon his bike and find a new one? Or head back to Jesmond and admit defeat?
The latter was never an option.
With friend Ned Sullivan alongside, Merrifield soldiered on with saggy tyre flapping in the wind. “We couldn’t fall at the first hurdle,” Merrifield says. Ten kilometres… 20… 30… the ride seemed achingly slow as Merrifield’s ever-sinking bike continued to cause him problems – on several occasions the rider had to pick himself up from the ground as the wheel rim slipped in and out of place, knocking him off balance. Still, the coastal scenery beside the pair gave them comfort in their challenging quest on this particularly cold and unforgiving Sunday.
Storm Bert had been wreaking havoc across the UK since the Friday (22 November), causing rapid winds, snow and high amounts of rainfall. Yet this only encouraged Bertie and Ned to push harder, their high levels of fitness attributable to football training for local club Jesmond Tutu and Newcastle University’s second team. Amble was the chosen destination for a spot of lunch to help refuel their tanks, as the Harbour Inn provided them with a hearty meal of soup and bread to carry on their pursuit of the Scottish border. Energy restored, their trip continued.
“We witnessed the most amazing sunset just past Alnwick,” recalls Merrifield. As the sun’s amber glow began to fade above their heads, the sky became engulfed in darkness as they trundled along the quiet coastal roads. On occasion, a car would roar past the duo, driver hurling abuse about their dim lights – another problem caused by their deteriorating bikes. Just 35km after the soup and bread stop, disaster struck again as Sullivan’s tyre popped and Merrifield’s tyre rim caved in. “It felt like I fell into a sinkhole,” he says. “We ended up having to carry our bikes for 40 minutes.”
With aching arms and two miles away from the closest town, they carried on, resolute but wondering how much more bad luck awaited them. Headlights blazed brightly in the distance again, but this time, instead of receiving a reprimand for their lack of visibility, the pair were offered a helping hand by the driver and given a lift into the nearby town of Seahouses. Taking refuge at an inn for the night, they drifted off to sleep after a hard day’s outing.
At dawn, Merrifield and Sullivan set off walking, thinking their odds were slim of completing the remaining 60km of their journey without functioning bikes. Another kind stranger offered them a short lift to Bamburgh where they caught their first sight of beautiful Holy Island.
Thanking the stranger, they retrieved their bikes from the back of his van before hiding them behind bushes so they could take in the picturesque landscape. The once grey sky opened up to reveal a pale-yellow horizon which illuminated Bamburgh Castle behind them. Temporarily setting aside their primary goal, the pair walked for three miles along the mudflats of the pilgrim causeway to reach Holy Island.
As the sun began to set again, the pair rushed back to collect their bikes. As if by fate, the white lights of a van approached from a distance, and Merrifield and Sullivan realised it was the same driver who had given them a lift to Bamburgh in the first place. The driver explained he had an uneasy feeling about leaving the duo during their journey and felt responsible for their safety. “There was a spiritual presence about him,” recalls Sullivan, “and he said that now he’d saved us, we needed to go and save someone else.”
This latest kindness of strangers took them to Berwick upon Tweed. Would they get the first train back to Newcastle, asked the driver? “Job’s not finished, we replied,” says Sullivan. Hauling their broken bikes from the back of his van (again), the pair set off for the final stretch of their long journey. With just 6km left, their bikes were ditched again, as they hiked along noiseless roads in search of the Scottish border. Their torches eventually found the sign that signalled the end of their quest. “Welcome to Scotland: Failte gu Alba.”
They walked back to the train station in triumph, recovering their bikes on the way. As they boarded a close to empty carriage, they slumped into their seats, exhausted but proud of their completed trip. “The train back took only 40 minutes, which was a bit humbling,” admits Merrifield.
The trip back to Jesmond allowed them to revisit the impulse that prompted them to set off in the first place. “Storm Bert was coming, and I wanted to tell my future kids a cool story of what I did during the storm,” says Merrifield. “We pretty much decided this only the day before actually going.” From flat tyres to spiritual encounters, the journey to the Scottish border had been anything but smooth, but what Bert did during Storm Bert is a story Merrifield and Sullivan will be telling for years to come.
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