While Scotland’s NC500 road trip has become a victim of its own success, an English version now aims to learn from its mistakes. But, asks Sarah Baxter, can you build a successful route that locals don’t come to resent? And if so, could the Cumbrian coast become a blueprint for regenerative route-making elsewhere?
After a week’s walking in Scotland’s far northwest, I was on an early minibus, taking me back south. It was 7.24am when we drove through teeny Ardmair, but its beachside rest stops were clogged with campervans. Driver Neil Fuller slammed his horn, repeatedly.
A rude awakening for the campers. For Neil, a vent of frustration: “They’ve ruined tourism, to the detriment of everyone who lives here,” he said.
Launched in 2015, the NC500 road trip around Scotland’s wild north has fast become a ‘must-do’, an enticing invitation to explore some of the country’s most isolated communities, wild uplands and jaw-dropping beaches. Since its launch the number of vehicles on the NC500’s roads has risen 83 percent; it generated almost GBP£100m (USD$134.32m) in economic benefit in 2025. But many locals share Fuller’s concerns, citing increases in littering, dangerous driving, environmental damage.
A year later, as I visit a different British seaboard developing a similar product, I wonder: Can you create something that works for visitors and locals too?
I’d come to Cumbria, England’s large, largely rural northwesternmost county, dominated by the fells of the Lake District National Park, but with a long Irish Sea coast too. A coastline ripe for reinvention.
“If we were going to do this, we wanted to know what the opportunities were—and the pitfalls,” says Cumbria Tourism’s Sue Clarke, project coordinator for the Cumbria Coastal Route (CCR), who I meet before my visit. “Engagement with communities has been key. It’s very much ground up. We’ve done a lot of listening.”
The first iteration of the ‘CCR200′ was born out of COVID-19, to provide inspiration for motorhomers. “But we saw it could be so much more,” says Clarke, so this summer marks the soft-launch of a new CCR. But here’s the difference. This won’t be a simple 200-mile (322-kilometer) road trip. It will be a sustainable travel route incorporating train journeys, walking, cycling and other activities. The aim is to develop new experiences and itineraries along the coast that will attract more visitors and raise footfall year-round. The evolved CCR is far more flexible and more ambitious that a strict line on a map.”
“There’s a grittiness in the DNA—something you have to take on board, coming here. It’s so interesting, but it’s not all cute fishing villages. It’s a different prospect.”
- Marc Goodwin, CCR ‘route champion
It’s also cautious, and keen to learn from its predecessors. A large complaint of Scotland’s NC500 is that no environmental impact assessment and little public consultation was undertaken before the route was created. Some 61 percent of residents ‘strongly disagree’ that North Coast 500 Ltd—the destination management company that promotes the route—acts in the best interests of the local area; one local I spoke to called it “a marketing enterprise gotten out of hand”.
In an effort to mitigate such problems before developing the CCR, Cumbria Tourism carried out a viability study, which assessed routes such as Ireland’s Wild Atlantic Way, and considered how they might learn from them. The study looked at problems faced, such as strain on local infrastructure and traffic congestion, and the solutions to tackle them, such as promoting off-peak tourism and low-emission transport, and creating experiences to better disperse visitors at each destination.
Free public CCR workshops have also been held, to get the community informed, involved and sharing ideas: Instead of foisting the project on the people of Cumbria, the aim is to grow it gradually. There’s no branded signage up yet. “It’s not perfect,” says Sue, “but we’re thinking: What could this look like in 15 years?”
Right now, as I spend a few days exploring via Cumbria’s shore-skimming railway—from the inland city of Carlisle, chugging west to the coast, then following it south to the Victorian seaside resort of Grange-over-Sands—it looks like there’s huge potential.
That there’s already a train line here is a major advantage in making the CCR a more sustainable proposition, while Cumbria’s varied coast offers endless sand-and-beaches like those at Seascale and St Bees, unexpected islands—Piel Island, off Barrow-in-Furness, even has its own king—sprawling estuaries, history and intrigue (from the Romans at Maryport to Ulverston’s Buddhists), and lived-in towns that don’t shutter in winter.
However, it’s overshadowed, in every sense, by the Lake District National Park which receives 17-18 million visitors a year. Enticing tourists to the far side of those fells is tough, not least as seaside tourism across England is down 11 percent year-on-year, thanks to the continuing lure of cheap flights to the continent’s beaches.
The Cumbria coast is also scarred by industry. Coal mines and ironworks may have closed but their legacy remains—seen in the physical remnants of boilers sheds and chimneys, and the psychological and social effects of lost jobs. The big employers now are Sellafield nuclear power station and BAE Systems, builders of nuclear submarines. “There’s a grittiness in the DNA—something you have to take on board, coming here,” says Cumbrian-born Marc Goodwin, the Town Crier (official announcer of local news) and one of the CCR’s ‘route champions’ (locals helping spread the word). “It’s so interesting, but it’s not all cute fishing villages. It’s a different prospect.”
And it IS interesting, and soaked in stories. After leaving Carlisle, my train meets the sea at Maryport, some 28 miles (45 kilometers) southwest, where I jump off to visit the Roman fort built under Hadrian, and hear of plans to add interpretation to the earthworks and update the antiquities-crammed Senhouse Museum.
I’m now a few stops further south in Whitehaven, strolling with Goodwin. He shows me around his hometown, with its neatly planned Georgian streets of what was once England’s third-biggest port, and takes me up the cliffs to Haig Colliery, Cumbria’s last deep coal mine. Closed in 1986, it was converted into a museum, which closed in 2016; this year, it was bought by a miner’s son, who wants to make it an attraction again.
“We’re not ‘where the Lakes meet the sea’,” he says, quoting the old tourist slogan. “We’re ‘the sea with a backdrop’—we’re second to no-one.”
- John Irving, Dock Museum manager and CCR champion
I ask him what the miners make of the move from industry to tourism. “What’s important to them is not to forget the past,” he tells me. “Diverse opportunities create a more resilient economy, and tourism is part of that. We’ve got a chance to bring people in, share our stories, build local pride.”
While Haig Coillery awaits redevelopment, the clifftop café that used to operate at the museum has already reopened, thanks to local entrepreneur and CCR champion Gina Goulding, who also runs the Beach Road Bakehouse down the coast in pretty St Bees. The CCR isn’t the only reason Goulding chose to expand, but the fact something’s happening, that there’s momentum, is encouraging businesses to think bigger.
Of course, there’s skepticism of the CCR. “People here have been promised stuff before…” says Grace Law of The Rum Story, an atmospheric museum housed in the original 18th-century warehouses that delves into Whitehaven’s rum trade and its role in the slave trade. “Smaller businesses are waiting to see how the CCR works for bigger ones like us before fully embracing it. Hopefully it will create connections between towns that then ripple down the coast.”
I ripple down the coast myself, using the train, sometimes taking a walk. In July, 34 miles (55 kilometers) of trail opened around the Furness Peninsula—the latest completed section of the mighty King Charles III England Coast Path—so now virtually all Cumbria’s edges are accessible.
After Whitehaven, I hop a few train stops south to Ravenglass and walk to Muncaster Castle, the coast’s biggest and most innovative visitor draw. I tour the (allegedly haunted) old manor, shoot arrows in the weapons hall, coo over the owl display, gaze to the misty fells. It’s a great day out. “People that come to West Cumbria love it, and return time and again,” says Ewan Frost-Pennington, whose family has occupied Muncaster for over 800 years. “The challenge is getting them here in the first place. Linking in with the coastal route idea is really important.”
More tourism means benefits in other ways, he adds. Not only more jobs for locals but more amenities. “We’re missing lots of great places to eat,” he says. “Tourism is an opportunity to get more of those services for locals, as well as infrastructure investment.” A case in point: The tunnel between Whitehaven and Corkickle stations has been closed since July 2025, necessitating a replacement bus or mile walk. “If this was a tourist hub, would the link have been down so long?” he wonders.
The next day, back on the train, I ride around the wide, bird-waded tidal waters of the Duddon Estuary. I jump off in Barrow-in-Furness, home to numerous nature reserves (including South Walney, with its colony of gray seals), a top-class pie shop (Greens) and the excellent, free Dock Museum, which explores the town’s shipbuilding history. Here I meet John Irving, the museum’s manager, CCR champion and passionate Barrow-ite: “We’re not ‘where the Lakes meet the sea’,” he says, quoting the old tourist slogan. “We’re ‘the sea with a backdrop’—we’re second to no-one.”
According to Irving, the area has the attractions, parking and infrastructure to cope with many more tourists. And the potential: Barrow has some of England’s most deprived areas, but GBP£200m (USD$270m) is being spent on revitalizing the town. This area needs a boost. The CCR can be part of that.
I ask everyone I meet if they’re worried about overtourism. Practically no-one is. One man in Whitehaven notes a lack of toilets could be a problem, although a scheme under which shops are paid to provide access to their facilities launched in spring. And a lady on Silecroft’s near-endless, near-empty beach expresses slight concern that more visitors might destroy the peace that makes it special. “This coast has so much,” Clarke has said to me. “There’s plenty to go round.”
The reality is, undertourism is the issue here. There’s so much scope for growth, in an area that can handle it. There’s also a concerted effort to develop the CCR slowly, not to rush, to consult communities, to recognize each town’s individual needs. The CCR doesn’t feel like a threat, it feels like an opportunity. An opportunity for new, varied, sustainable jobs to be created for local people, but also an opportunity for travelers to take a chance on this wave-tickled land beyond the fells—less obviously spectacular maybe, but with so much still to be discovered.
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The writer’s journey was supported by Cumbria Tourism. For more information and itinerary ideas on the Cumbria Coastal Route (CCR), visit visitlakedistrict.com/cumbria-coastal-route
A new Cumbria Travel Pass also offers unlimited travel on trains, buses and Windermere Cruises.
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Sarah Baxter is a travel writer and author based in Bath, England. She writes for a range of titles including the Guardian, the Telegraph, the Times, Wanderlust and National Geographic Traveller UK. Her latest book is 'The Inspired Traveller: Our World in 100 Cultural Places'. She does love a sundowner and a hippo, and especially loves exploring the world on foot.
