In these days of global warming and only occasional flurries of snow in winter, it perhaps seems unbelievable that it could start snowing on Boxing Day and for the frost and snow to remain for nearly three months! That is what happened in the (real) winter of 1962-‘63.

Today, water-retaining artificial pitches freeze overnight but are often thawed by the late morning sun, yet in the winter of 1962-’63 the grass hockey pitches of the nation were covered in snow and ice all day long for week after week after week.

What follows is the story of enterprising hockey players in the North-East of England and what they did to ensure the playing of our sport during that amazing winter.

This chapter reproduced in full below is taken from The Book of Hockey: A Miscellany of Hockey Writings, edited by Patrick Rowley and published by Macdonald & Co., London in 1964. The article was penned by Gordon Wilkinson, then Secretary of County Durham Hockey Association.

The Book of Hockey: A Miscellany of Hockey Writings, edited by Patrick Rowley and published by Macdonald & Co., London in 1964. Copies of this book reside in The Hockey Museum’s Library.

The Sands of Seaton Carew

It is January 1963, the whole of the region is buried under twelve inches of snow, and the weatherman gives no prospect of clearance for weeks to come. Groundsmen stand at the doors of their equipment sheds, gazing out over the bleak scene of unsullied white, at the goalposts standing silent, stark in the glistening, untrodden snow. The cutter and roller gather rust in the dark of the shed.

Match secretaries are weary of sending out cancellation notices; some do not even trouble to think of matches, and settle down to weekends of television, children and crossword puzzles. Players tramp gloomily around the house, kicking the dog, and smoking to excess. Wives, at first happy at the thought of having a man around the house on Saturday and Sunday, now wish for a break in the weather and the clearance of the snow, so that their better halves can get out and become human again.

Nearby, the wind from Russia whistles over the North Sea, whipping the wave crests into spattering white caps. The beach, washed by the tides, is the only strip of Britain clear of ice, frost and snow. The promenade is deserted save for a solitary figure clambering from the only car in the car park. He consults his watch and his tide tables. Soon his tasks will begin. The sea recedes as the tide sweeps south down the coast and the sand is left billiard-table smooth and glistening. A perfect canvas for the master’s hand. The figure collects his equipment and, breasting the keening wind, steps on to the clear, smooth expanse. With measure, string and square and a large pointed stick, the grand design is drawn on the sand. Farther along the beach the same pattern is repeated – Jack Jemison, captain of Durham County Hockey Eleven and of Norton Hockey Club, has overcome the worst that winter could inflict on the hockey fraternity. Two pitches have been prepared for the early afternoon.

This was true, infectious enthusiasm. During that long, long winter of 62/63, the Norton club did not miss a single weekend’s hockey. When distant clubs were daunted at the prospect of facing that wind off the North Sea, emergency calls went out and scratch elevens from neighbouring clubs in many combinations and permutations were hastily arranged. In the Norton clubhouse, boilers were lighted and water heated; doors were locked; players climbed into cars for the eight-mile ride to the sands at Seaton Carew, just north of the Tees mouth.

The deserted car park became alive with cars, players, ‘camp followers’, umpires shook dusty whistles, and tentative, joyous trial blasts competed with the shrill of the wind. After the cosy misery of Saturday firesides this was true, adventurous, wonderful hockey. The ball ran true and stick-work became somehow easy. The near-zero air made running necessary to keep warm; even the umpire sprinted up the wing ahead of the winger. Of course, those nearest the sea edge kept a close eye on-the advancing tide. It would be no great fun to find two or three inches of sea water lapping around the feet.

At half-time the game was switched to the second prepared pitch, a new surface unruffled and inviting.

Editor’s note [Patrick Rowley]: Needless to say, the sands at Seaton Carew became the Mecca of Hockey in North-East England during that long winter.

Matches started as early as 11 am, and other odd hours, depending on the tide times. Even the Durham County Association took up the lead set by Jack Jemison and Norton Hockey Club. Three ‘A’ Eleven matches were successfully played on the same, ever new pitches. Norton, fit and in practice, did not lose a single match during that winter, and their goal average was astronomical.