Leg 4: Quayside to Scotswood Road
(Bridges at dawn, Newcastle Quayside. 25th July 2026)
A Later Dawn and a Familiar Starting Point
Saturday 25 July. 05:00AM. A slightly later start. We parked up at Merchant’s House — the same car park as last weekend’s walk. Whereas last time we’d turned left towards the Tyne Bridge, this week we’d be turning right, away from it.
But the dawn skies we’d hoped for last week finally appeared — soft pinks and golds rising behind the Tyne — and we couldn’t resist heading back to the Tyne Bridge for some sunrise snaps. Marley didn’t seem to mind.
Following the River West
Photos taken, we set off. It was another easy walk as we followed the riverside path west. Unlike the eastward stretch, this section didn’t offer the same cultural landmarks or sights — but the easy, flat riverside path made for pleasant walking. We were happy enough letting the path lead us away from the heart of the Tyne, past the Quayside and towards the western district of Elswick.
The Timber Giant Across the Water
We stopped to look at Dunston Staiths across the river — its information board covered in graffiti, a reminder that we were still in urban environs. Dunston Staiths is the largest timber structure in Europe, built in 1893 from Baltic pitch pine and stretching an impressive 500 metres. Coal wagons from the Durham pits were once pushed along the four rails on top, ready for unloading onto ships. It was the last working staiths on the Tyne, closing in 1980 as the coal industry declined. In the early 20th century there were around 30 wooden jetties along the river; this is now the only one left.
Even from the far side of the Tyne, it is clearly enormous — a gigantic reminder of the North East’s coal‑mining past.
Dunston is also famous as Gazza’s birthplace and for the 1970s Tudor Crisps TV advert featuring the brutalist Derwent Tower — known locally as the Dunston Rocket. The classic ad showed a wily paperboy bribing a mate with a “canny bag” of Tudor Crisps to brave the massive climb and deliver papers up the high‑rise tower, cementing the catchphrase: “For Tudor, I’d climb a mountain!” The Dunston Rocket was demolished in 2012 bringing an end to one of Tyneside’s most divisive landmarks.
Blue Skies and a Moment to Pause
We pootled along, the acorn symbol on a lamppost confirming we were on the right path — not that it was needed, as we were simply following the river. I suspect the acorns will be more useful further along the trail.
Soon after, we reached an inviting landscaped area of wooden decking with a viewpoint over the river and an attractive cluster of stones. It felt like a natural place for a water break and photos. The sky had shifted from pink and yellow hues to scattered blue and white.
An information board explained Lord Armstrong’s role in transforming industrial engineering and the armaments industry, establishing W.G. Armstrong & Co. at Elswick in 1847. (W.G. stands for William George — the first two names shared by my brother, who has another two as well as a double‑barrelled surname.)
Leaving the River Behind
The Hadrian’s Wall path still ran alongside cycle route 72, though cyclists were scarce — much to our and Marley’s relief. We passed Liosi’s, a delightful Sicilian eatery popular with Wall walkers but, of course, not open at pre‑6AM on a Saturday. A theme is definitely emerging!
Eventually the path left the riverside and turned inland, leading us to a Lexus dealership on the notorious Scotswood Road. We’d pick up the trail here next time.
The Great Buggy Reveal
Now we needed to get back to the car. As I’ve mentioned in previous blogs, our unconventional way of walking the Wall means we’re having to walk each mini‑leg twice. This has been doable so far, but Marley’s an older lad now and a bit arthritic. He’s still fit, but the days of 16‑mile walks are behind him.
So — the solution I hinted at. A buggy. Yes, really.
After researching and consulting dog‑buggy owners on the “Duggies in Buggies” Facebook group, and debating 3‑wheel vs 4‑wheel, we opted for the former. It arrived during the week between walks.
We tested it briefly in our wild, uneven Northumberland garden. Marley wasn’t sure what to make of it, but with encouragement (and treats) he climbed in. Using it in the city would be a different prospect.
Marley-on-Wheels
After turning around at Lexus, we returned to the wooden decking for the big moment. Marley had slowed down considerably in the last five minutes — vindicating the purchase — and was ready to rest his paws. With a bit more encouragement and a treat or two, he climbed in without too much resistance.
This meant that while we’d walked the outward section with me pushing an empty extra‑large dog buggy and Danny walking Marley on the lead, we now swapped: Danny would push the (much heavier) buggy for the return leg. I definitely got the better part of the deal.
It was liberating going hands‑free, and slightly surreal pushing this chariot‑sized contraption, wondering whether people would realise there was a dog inside or assume it was a baby.
Preserving Marley’s limbs aside, it proved a shrewd decision. Whereas we’d barely seen a soul on the first leg, early cyclists and keen joggers (some no doubt training for the upcoming Great North Run) were now out in force. Zipped away in the safety of the buggy, a section that would’ve been undoable — or at least very challenging — Marley’s reactivity became manageable, if not quite relaxing.
The buggy wheels are small bike tyres, and it can even attach to the back of a bicycle — ironic given Marley’s hatred of bikes. Marley‑on‑the‑Wall was now Marley‑on‑Wheels.
A Pub Dog Denied
As we arrived back at the Merchant’s House car park, The Quayside pub was getting ready to open. As you’ll know if you’re reading this, Marley is a pub dog, and we keep a meticulous log of his hostelries (109 at the time of this walk and now up to 121). Unfortunately, as lovely as it would’ve been to enjoy a beverage or breakfast overlooking the Tyne, it was a Wetherspoons — assistance dogs only, even on the riverside patio.
Finding Our Rhythm
It was an enjoyable walk, even if it didn’t have the cultural pull of the previous two. But we’ve settled into our dawn‑walking rhythm now — the quiet start, the empty paths, the soft light over the Tyne — and Marley has well and truly found his wheels.
And as it turned out, he’d need them. The next leg would be the real test.
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