The motherly arms of Craster harbour’s two whinstone piers hold a protective embrace. The resulting small cove shelters from the wild North Sea. It has welcomed Craster’s fishermen and their cobles for generations. Ramshackle stacks of lobster pots mirror the ragged silhouette of tumbledown Dunstanbugh Castle in the distance. Plucky oystercatchers peep support for their industrious colleagues, frantically strutting and prodding in the mud. The orange of their elongated beaks a close match for Middlerigg’s pantile roof that sits in contrast above its dark grey stone walls. Proudly, the house looks down at the boats resting at jaunty angles below, each one decorated with ropes strewn with oversized colourful plastic baubles. If Craster is the harbour, then the harbour is Middlerigg.
