SEAWEED has come back. Mussels and winkles have come back. Fish, lobsters and crabs have returned just offshore. But the restored Durham coast, transformed from its coal-waste-blighted ugliness to near-pristine beauty, lacks one final ingredient for complete success.

People. Especially local people. Gareth Wilson, head ranger for the National Trust’s Durham coast, says: “They’ve avoided it for so long it’s taking a while for that change to come. They need to fall in love with their own stretch of coast again.”

That’s what Gareth told a newcomer to the Durham shore – journalist and author Patrick Barkham. A resident of Norfolk, he visited the Durham coast as part of an odyssey in which he explored much of the 742 miles of coastline owned and managed by the National Trust in England, Wales and Northern Ireland.

On the five-mile stretch in Durham, famously rescued after suffering more than a century of colliery-waste dumping, he encountered only a sole dog walker. Recalling his experience in a book, he reflects: “The land was managed for conservation and public access. But the public did not appear to want to access it.”

But Patrick could hardly have been more pleased with what he found. Easington beach was “impressive”; Hawthorne Dene, with mature sycamores and old fruit trees, legacy of a long-gone mansion, was “magical”. Noting that the Durham coast hosts 92 per cent of Britain’s maritime limestone grassland, a special habitat for plants and insects, he observes: “The flower-rich and deserted beaches compare favourably with the more celebrated shores of North Yorkshire.” He deems the 12-mile tramp from Seaham to Crimdon Park, near Hartlepool, “an excellent long-day’s walk”.

Patrick salutes the “brave and unusual decision” of the National Trust to take on the daunting task of restoring the black beaches and neglected, litter-strewn cliffs five years before all mining ended in 1993. Indeed, the move was among the most ambitious the Trust has ever attempted. It defied the Trust’s own judgement, back in 1965, when the Trust launched Enterprise Neptune with the aim of saving beautiful, or potentially beautiful, coastline, that Durham coast was “beyond redemption”.

A lottery grant aiding beach clearance was crucial to the eventual clean-up. Good luck also played a part. Illegal biking that disfigured the clifftops has virtually ceased. Discouraged by the Trust? Yes. But as Wayne Appleton, another ranger, told Patrick: “The kids now just sit inside and play on Nintendos and Xboxes.”

Chief agent of the clean-up, however, has been the sea. “Nature recovers from industrial trauma more quickly than we do,” remarks Patrick. A local man told him: “I’d like to know where all the coal went. There must be a big hole in that sea out there.”

At the height of the pollution 2.5m tons of waste per year were dumped on the beaches. But the muck meant work. Over a drink with locals in Easington Colliery Institute – “famed for throwing a party when Margaret Thatcher died” – Patrick therefore approached the topic of the restored beaches sensitively. “I felt it was trite to ask them about the seaside, it seemed so irrelevant to the story of their community.”

However, “like everyone in County Durham they were happy to talk ... Easington seemed to me the friendliest place in England.”

Patrick asked the locals how they thought the town was faring. “They’ve deserted the North-East, deserted it,” one man replied. But Patrick also gleaned approving comments on the cleaned-up coast. “Amazing”, said one man, who fished from the beach most days. Another noted: “When the tide is in you can see the rocks under the sea where you never could before”.

But the tides haven’t quite washed away the detritus of King Coal. Forming a mini cliff, a wedge of compacted material runs along the beach. Patrick sees it as an asset – a stratified snapshot of the mining era. “It could easily be mistaken for an ancient archaeological deposit,” he writes.

Stained with iron oxide from mine waste, the sands themselves are less golden than red brown. But, vitally, clean.

Overall, "Neptune" has added 555 miles to the 187 held by the Trust at the outset. A further 345 of the 900 initially identified as suitable for rescue and/or protection – out of 3,000 in all – remain, though the Trust says development pressure has eased.

Summarising his odyssey, which embraced Devon and Cornwall, North Wales, Suffolk, the Isle of Wight, Dorset, Northumberland and other places with renowned coastline, Patrick says: “For lovers of solitude, Durham is perfect.”

So, an unqualified thumbs-up then? Not quite – for his message really is that more people should be enjoying the Durham coast, starting with the locals.

Coastlines – The Story of Our Shore by Patrick Barkham (Granta, £20)