THREE MILES SOUTH of South Shields, on the coast of North East England, lies Marsden Bay (Fig. 6.1). Overlooked by cliffs 80 to 100 feet tall, it is accessible only at two points: at the north by the shallow ‘Velvet Beds’ steps, and at a mid-point by 128 steep steps (don't let this put you off, though – there's a lift). There is a pub built in and around the cliffs: the Marsden Grotto. There are caves and coves along the beach and, most famously, the towering sea stack Marsden Rock. The stack was once an arch, with an archway it was once possible to sail through – until in 1996 the arch collapsed, scuppering the local postcard industry and giving the gulls a fright. The Bay, the Grotto and the Rock are the stuff of stories and legends, adventures and schemes, hermits and smugglers. There was Jack the Blaster, an ex-lead miner who is said to have blasted a home for himself into the cliff in the eighteenth century to break free from overzealous landlords; the Hairy Man, a young sailor who was jilted by his girl and moved into Smuggler's Cave, took to dressing in skins and grew his hair long; Peter Allan, nineteenth-century founder of the Grotto and host extraordinaire, who was thought to be onto a hoard of Roman coins. The place is full of colourful characters and tall tales. For centuries, curious tourists, geologists and holidaymakers came to Marsden by boat, navigating the treacherous coastline (with mixed results), entranced by the entanglement of people, place and story.