Day 79 Bootle to Ravenglass



The train times meant that we had a relaxed start to the day. After an excellent “Cumbrian” breakfast, we boarded the 0913 getting back on the route at 0946. We were quickly joined a lively sheep dog, that stayed with us for over an hour. Eventually we called the owner from the number on the dog’s collar and the dog was collected just before we had yet again to go off-piste on account of the high tide covering the road. This detour, our late start and the wet conditions under foot, meant that we made slow progress and we could do no more than get back to the Ratty Arms just in time for a sandwich, which John had taken the precaution of ordering by phone when it looked like we would arrive after the chef had left. This meant that we had now been in the Ratty on three separate occasions and walked past it a fourth time – another record. Another rather feeble trip of just over 10 miles meant that over the two days we had let 15 mile Johnny progress from 4 miles behind to 6 miles ahead. The trains behaved themselves on the way home

Postscript – the next day we heard the sad news that Gary’s mother died on Tuesday night

Day 78 Haverigg to Bootle



The trip had a rocky start when Ben’s newly acquired reliance on modern technology, the mobile phone, proved misplaced in that he either failed to set the alarm properly or it rang too quietly for his ageing ears. However awakening at 0553 in Putney, he managed to get the 0640 from Euston with some minutes to spare. John joined the train at Birmingham without crisis, but then matters deteriorated. The train slowed sufficiently for the team to see the connection to the West Coast line pulling out from Preston as they arrived. In the faint hope that the express might overtake the branch line train on the way to Lancaster, the team stayed on board, but to no avail. Spirits were restored by excellent coffee in the Lancaster station buffet whilst waiting an hour for the next train.

Unfortunately as we got under way, Gary then had sad news that his mother was very poorly and after some consideration decided that he had better not disembark at Millom but carry on to Carlisle and return home to be on hand. So it was the duo of Ben and John who were forlornly ringing for cabs in the teeming rain at Millom to get a taxi to Haverigg. Fortunately after only a short wait, Julie of Julie’s cabs arrived and brightened our mood with talk of the weather blowing through. Finally at 1315 the duo got under way into some of the wettest windiest weather we have experienced. We made surprisingly good speed partly because we eschewed some of our normal brief breaks on the hour to record progress given that the log book would have suffered considerably from the elements. The sea was dramatic, crashing in to the beach as we walked along fuelled by the south westerly which was fortunately mostly at our backs or at least our side. Over the course of the day we met no other walkers which may be a first – certainly unusual. In spite of our good progress, our late departure and the early darkness exacerbated by the gloomy weather meant we had to call it a day near Bootle station after less than 10 miles. Northern Rail turned up on time and we made the short trip to Ravenglass. Gary had reported that the Ratty Arms seemed deserted at lunch time, but the hostelry located right on the station, possibly the former ticket office, opened as we arrived and we had an agreeable pint by the fire drying our feet and warming up. Then we walked the short distance to the Rosegarth B&B for excellent showers before back to the Ratty for supper. An extensive selection of malts resulted in two rounds of stickies before bed.

Day 77 – Broughton-in-Furness to Haverigg

A comfortable and quiet night and good breakfast before an 8:30 start to the day’s walking. Broughton is a very attractive, traditional market town – its appearance no doubt enhanced by a bright and crisp morning. Our aim of getting to Silecroft in time for an early afternoon train might prove to be a bit optimistic, particularly with almost an extra mile to walk from the coast to Silecroft station but, subject to any problems crossing Millom Marsh, we don’t anticipate too many difficulties with the terrain. Reflecting the end of yesterday’s walk, the first mile or so today is alongside roads, but we then go through a field to cross the Duddon (at long last) at its eponymous bridge, and climb up to woodland paths above the A595 running along the northerly bank of the estuary. On a couple of occasions, we’re not sure that we’ve followed the prescribed route through the woods. Not a major problem, but even a small diversion could affect our prospects of getting to Silecroft. Still, at least when we come back to and cross the main road and get beyond Lady Hall and Green Road station, we find that the route across Millom Marsh is perfectly straightforward along a raised embankment. At this stage, Kirby is on the opposite bank of the river, and there is some discussion of whether we might have stayed there yesterday evening and walked across the estuary at low tide this morning. It might have improved our chances of getting to Silecroft which become increasingly “cuspy” as we try to keep as close to the coast as possible around Millom resulting, as it transpires, in one short retracing of steps and two bits of fence climbing. By the time we’ve reached Hodbarrow Point, it seems that we’ve all silently accepted we won’t reach our planned destination, because our pace has slowed, we stop at the iron lighthouse by the lake at Hodbarrow Hollow to spend some time reading the signs about its history, and (perhaps most significantly) we’ve ascertained that there’s a pub at Haverigg from which it’s not too long a walk back to Millom station. At the bridge over the River Lazy with the pub on the other side, we have a desultory conversation about whether we should keep going, but it’s just for form’s sake. There was never any doubt. Into the pub for some lunch and a couple of pints, and it’s not then a rush to get to Millom station in time for the 2:50 train to Lancaster

Day 76 – Barrow-in-Furness to Broughton-in-Furness



We revert to the traditional morning timing for our outbound trip to Cumbria, arrive on schedule, and are back by the pedestrian bridge (submerged) shortly before midday. The route out of Barrow takes us along largely deserted streets and, as such, is somewhat reminiscent of the equally unremarkable – and rather tired looking – outskirts of Blackpool. But within an hour, a narrow track takes us from the road in Ormsgill back down to the coast, from where there are good views back over to the north end of Walney Island. However, these are as nothing compared with what we see when we’ve walked round the tidal bay of Scarth Bite and then Lowsy Point. The vista along the Duddon Estuary towards the Scafells in the distance is described by the Coastal Way guide book as “stupendous”, and this is no overstatement. The sands stretch out before us in the sunshine, the indications from the guide book, John’s GPS logger and Ben’s OS map are that the route along the beach is not dependant on tide timetables, and we look forward to a few hours of relaxed and scenic walking towards Askam and beyond. How hopes can be dashed! Things remain relaxed and scenic for the 45 minutes or so that it takes us to reach Roanhead. This is apparently where “Barrow goes to the seaside”. It’s also where an abnormally high tide prevents us from getting round a rocky headland – and because our various maps and books all assume that it’s always possible to continue along the foreshore, there are no alternative routes which don’t involve very considerable diversions. It is far from easy to summarise the events of the next hour, but they include a steep – and heavily wooded – grassy bank up to a barbed wire fence which has to be negotiated to reach a field; a brief period of respite crossing the field and walking a short distance along a lane before heeding the warning of “Private Property” and, more significantly, “Bull in Field”, and diverting down a track to a woodland pool; realising that this is in fact the only track to/from the pool; and finally thrashing our way through bracken which is often at shoulder height (for John and Gary – Ben almost disappears on a couple of occasions) to get back to the beach on the other side of the rocky headland. During the course of this “adventure”, John loses his watch and, when we’re beyond the point of no return in the  bracken, and still  some way from the beach, we learn from the logger that our completely covered legs and feet have been walking over an area which contains several disused mine shafts! Might it have been better simply to sit on the beach and wait for the tide to recede??? It has to be said that all of this excitement seems to have a somewhat sobering effect on the rest of the day. Certainly, the scenery doesn’t look quite as spectacular as it did earlier, and occasional small problems with underfoot conditions and consequent minor diversions (particularly crossing and re-crossing the railway line between Askam and Kirby-in-Furness) create slightly more irritation than they would otherwise merit. As a consequence, after getting through Kirby and reaching the railway station at Foxfield, the unanimous decision is speedily reached that we should complete the remaining couple of miles to Broughton-in-Furness by roadside footpaths rather than risk further difficulties arising on a slightly more direct route through woods, fields and farms. We arrive in Broughton around 6:00 pm and any lingering “sobering effect” completely disappears when we enter the extremely welcoming and convivial bar of our overnight stop, the Manor Arms. During the course of our on arrival couple of pints, we are almost tempted to accept the invitation to participate in the quiz night which is due to start later in the evening but decide that, after freshening up, we should honour our booking for supper at the Black Cock Inn (a couple of hundred yards away) instead. Good food – and red wine – and also very good timing because we arrive back at the Manor Arms during an extended interval of the quiz thus affording the time for a couple of stickies to be taken on board and to get to our rooms before the resumption of the local hostilities.

Day 75 – Piel Island/Walney Island to Barrow-in-Furness



John and Gary are up sufficiently early to make walks (separately) around the island before breakfast – albeit the circumnavigation takes a mere 15 minutes. Wildlife sightings include a fledgling owl making several unsuccessful attempts at flight inside the castle walls, and some extremely vocal oyster catchers looking after their eggs along the shore. (This uncharacteristic Springwatch-ish piece of information reflects the impact of the island – at least on this particular visitor.) We’ll be walking over the sands to Walney Island at low tide around 9 o’clock. Sheila advises us to avoid the nature reserve at the southern end of the island because we could be attacked by gulls protecting their young (sounds like a sensible precaution!) and, before we leave, Steve drives half way over the sands so that we can take the best route by following his tyre tracks. Nothing has been too much trouble for them. After an unsurprisingly good breakfast, the walk to Walney takes just under an hour. Once there, we initially go south through a “holiday park” but then follow Sheila’s advice and turn off at the entrance to the nature reserve and head for the west side of the island. With the tide out, we have an easy couple of hours or so going northwards along the beach with the only debate being whether, to get to the eastern side, we should cut across the island (and if so where) or continue to follow the shoreline. We decide on the latter but, after rounding the northern tip, we soon have to divert into some overgrown fields which take quite a while to find our way through – not helped by the absence of obvious paths and the presence of the perimeter fence of Walney airfield. Even when we’re back near the shore, there are still a few marsh ditches to get over (or around) before we’re confident of being left with a straightforward route to Barrow. It’s now simply a question of whether, to cross back over the Furness, we’ll reach the pedestrian “footbridge” (essentially a series of very large stepping stones) before it’s submerged by the incoming tide, or whether we’ll need to continue a further half mile to the main Walney to Barrow road bridge. We arrive at the footbridge and manage to cross it in time – but only just. A few minutes after getting to the mainland, we look back and the bridge has all but disappeared. A twenty minute walk through the somewhat deserted streets of Barrow gets us to the station in sufficiently good time for cans of cider and sandwiches to be not only purchased but also consumed and the cans supplemented before our train arrives. Our on board drinking is put somewhat in the shade by two couples who are quaffing champagne – a matter of no apparent consequence to their neighbouring passengers or the frequently appearing Northern Rail ticket inspector. Clearly, this is commonplace on the Furness peninsular (?sp Ed). Not sure what they do on our arrival in Lancaster, but we catch our connecting train which John leaves in Warrington for his onward journey to Birmingham whilst Ben and Gary continue to London and the latest tube strike.         

Day 74 – Flookburgh to Roa Island/Piel Island



Whilst not the most luxurious of our overnight stops, the Hope and Anchor ticks all essential boxes – hospitable, clean and comfortable. After breakfast and early postcard purchases at the local post office, we walk back to the junction of the farm road – a location which is noteworthy for being the site of the Cartmel Sticky Toffee Pudding Company. We realise that, with the exception of a few beers from the surrounding area, we haven’t availed ourselves of any local produce on our last two or three outings which is perhaps why, even at 9 a.m., we suddenly develop a hankering for Morecambe Bay Shrimps. There’s some drizzle in the air which soon disappears and the sun starts to break through in time for our meeting with Ray, the guide who is going to take us across the Leven Estuary. It’s only 3.5 miles west to the estuary and north to Sand Gate Farm where we’re due to see Ray at 10:30, so we arrive slightly earlier than the appointed time. After 5 or 10 minutes, a gentleman on a tractor appears and, perhaps lulled by a cheery smile and the fact that a tractor was Cedric’s means of transportation when arriving for the Morecambe Bay crossing, John greets the gentleman with the words “You must be Ray”. This proves to be inaccurate in terms of both grammar and identity, and the person who actually is Ray arrives on foot a few minutes later. Our crossing of the Leven is, if anything, even more enjoyable than the crossing of Morecambe Bay. It’s entirely through water; the views of the railway bridge over the Leven and beyond towards the hills of the Lake District are spectacular; and lo and behold, on the other side of the estuary at Canal Foot, there’s the welcoming sight of the Bay Horse pub – and it’s just after 12:00. It would be remiss not to take advantage of the pub’s hospitality in order to dry our feet, get back into walking boots….and take some refreshment on board. Suffice it to say that we’re not on our way again until around 12:45. After passing Conishead Priory, there’s quite a bit of beach action over Ulverston Sands before we have to get up to the path alongside the coast road at Rampside just outside Barrow. During the afternoon, the wind has been getting stronger and a phone call to Sheila at the Ship Inn on Piel Island where we’re staying this evening elicits the information that the ferry from Roa Island to Piel isn’t running because of the high winds, but that her husband Steve will come and collect us. As we cope with the crosswinds on the causeway to Roa, we attempt – with a degree of success – to establish some rules justifying why, as a matter of consistency, there is no need for us to visit the various other islands in the Furness estuary. When we reach the lifeboat station on the tip of Roa at 4:30, the Piel Channel looks (admittedly to three landlubbers) distinctly choppy and, in a further phone call to Sheila, we’re told that Steve won’t be able to set off before 5:00 when the tide is due to turn – hopefully resulting in slightly calmer conditions. It’s closer to 5:30 when we see a rather small boat leaving Piel. Its circuitous progress towards us doesn’t seem to be particularly calm but, when we climb aboard, introduce ourselves to Steve and start the return trip, it isn’t too bad. Steve takes a more direct route than his outward journey and, in just under 10 minutes, we’re on Piel. What an amazing place it is. Apart from a ruined castle, the Ship (including its outbuildings/cottages) is the only thing on the island. But Steve and Sheila have done extraordinary things with the pub. They took it over about 8 years ago, having previously both worked on the railways and being the successful two of about 500 applicants for the job at the Ship. They’ve developed it into an incredibly welcoming and well appointed residential pub with a wide selection of beers, wines and spirits, and a very extensive menu. This initially seems surprising but is explained by the fact that despite (or perhaps because of) its island location, it’s a very popular place. For example, Steve and Sheila tell us that they serve around 250 covers at weekends (not just people from the mainland, but also yachting folk from along the coast); host not infrequent stag and hen weekends; and have customers who regularly spend New Year there. It also has the distinction of being the only pub in the country to be owned by a local authority. We’re the only three guests tonight and we have a great time. Good food, lots to drink, and Steve and Sheila are excellent hosts. Has the Ship taken over number one status from the Harp at Old Radnor? For further comment, see Ben’s eulogy on TripAdvisor posted on 22 July!

Day 73 – Kents Bank to Flookburgh



To complete the few miles outstanding from day 72, Ben and Gary leave Euston at 3:30 pm and John leaves New Street (having re-delivered a car to John Jr in Birmingham) at 4:15. All very unusual. However, rendezvous is duly effected at Preston in time for the connecting train to Kents Bank where we arrive just before 7 o’clock and find the now one month old platform shelter to be still in situ. Two immediate decisions are made. First, despite the deleterious effect on our average daily mileage, the next couple of hours will count as day 73 rather than as a mere supplement to day 72. Second, we’ll take the optional diversion from the official Cumbria Coastal Way to sample the supposed delights of walking around Humphrey Head. And, as it transpires, any delights have to remain “supposed” because, after a half mile stroll down the east side of the Head, we are forced by the tide to retrace our steps back up the shore path and to complete our evening stroll by following a farm track and road to a junction just outside Flookburgh, a small village on the outskirts of Cartmel. Our overnight stop there is the Hope and Anchor pub, where sandwiches have been prepared for our arrival. Along with the customary liquid refreshment, they are very welcome and, despite our relatively short period of walking, we don’t dally in the bar too long before retiring for the night.

Day 72 - Carnforth to Kents Bank



Perfectly acceptable brekker, and we're able to supplement our chocolate supply for the day at the bar. Only minor irritation is that there is nowhere in Carnforth selling postcards which is open before our departure at 8:30. We're due to be meeting Cedric Robinson (the 80+ Queen's Guide for Morecambe Sands) at 11:30 so that he can take us from Arnside across the Bay to Kents Bank. Three hours to get to Arnside should be sufficient, so we're not overly concerned by an early navigational glitch which results in us having to leave a field by climbing over a barbed wire fence. Welcome to the walk Helen! When we get back to the coast, our suspicion that a building in the distance is Heysham Power Station is confirmed by a woman who is walking a very excitable dog and who says that her husband works there. The suggestion that she should ask him to arrange some helpful signage along the perimeter walkway may not have been fully taken on board. As we round a small headland, we encounter a film crew (well, four people with a couple of cameras) who ask whether we'd care to be included in something they are shooting about the area. Given our Cedric schedule, they have to be satisfied with a still photograph which will doubtless raise the standard of their piece (whatever it is). After a bit of scramblage over some rocks near Silverdale, we realise that we might not get to the beach at Arnside before 11:30, so John yomps on ahead through a narrow wooded path just in case Cedric is already there. He isn't, but phone calls to Mrs Robinson (Cedric doesn't go in for such fripperies as mobiles) confirm that he should be on his way "in the tractor". There are no immediate signs of his arrival, but we then see something across the sands in the distance which might be moving towards us and, after a while, it becomes clear that it is the tractor carrying Cedric, along with Barry (his youth policy - i.e. around our age) and John (the driver). After donning daps/plimsolls we eventually set off to walk with Cedric and Barry just after midday with John the driver keeping the tractor reasonably close by - and carrying some of our rucksacks. The route is not as most crows would fly, and comprises three distinct parts namely water (which, in one section, is up to our knees), a very uneven area of pitted sand and water (which Barry calls the Somme), and finally a marsh which necessitates getting round or jumping over several ditches. After the watery part, Cedric decides to complete the crossing in the tractor - now unencumbered with rucksacks - leaving us in the care of Barry. However, he is sufficiently keen to ensure that the young 'un will follow the prescribed route (i.e. Cedric's) and not take a short cut to the marsh that he keeps the tractor close at hand until, according to Barry, we've passed the point where a short cut would be possible. (The tractor then miraculously picks up speed and disappears around the headland.) In one sense, this is probably just as well. It's become apparent that we won't be able to get to Cark - our intended destination today - and short cuts would have resulted in us arriving at Kents Bank too early for a train (and Barry says that there are no pubs in the vicinity) and too late to make any meaningful progress towards Cark. As it is, we get to Kents Bank in time to meet up again with Cedric - and have a farewell chat about estuary/bay crossings further up the coast - and, counter-intuitively, to change back into walking boots as the first occupants of a newly finished (i.e. a few minutes before our arrival) waiting shelter on the station platform. The remaining miles to Cark will have to be ticked off as an evening precursor to the next couple of days walking. In the meantime, our train from Cark gets to Lancaster in time for Ben and Gary to catch the Euston train, and to Preston in time for John and Helen to catch the Birmingham train. An imaginative attempt by Ben to secure a postcard through purchase and transfer by John at Preston station is a (or an) heroic failure.

Day 71 - Overton to Carnforth



Yet again, Ben and Gary catch the early train from Euston and John joins at New Street. Breakfast sandwiches purchased on board, and we arrive on schedule at Lancaster. Our Colin from the station lives in Overton, but even he is at a loss to explain why the Globe wasn't open on our last visit - although he confesses to having been a patron of the Ship prior to its closure. We leave him to decide whether to pop home and have a cup of coffee before returning to Lancaster, and concentrate on the more important issue of identifying the route towards Sunderland Point. It's a warm and bright morning, which is just as well because the walk around the point isn't the most interesting of the stretches we've covered to date. The approach to Heysham is heralded by the sight firstly of the ferry coming over from the Isle of Man, and secondly of the nuclear power station. Based on our earlier experience of Hinkley Point, we assume that we won't be able to walk along the seaward side of the plant but, in fact, there is a walkway and no signs saying that we can't use it. No problem as we go north alongside the western boundary of the power station. Turning inland at the entrance to the harbour we see a few more fences, but there is access to narrow paths between them. We're almost beyond the power station and feeling more and more optimistic when, at the end of a path which appears to lead from the edge of the power station to the edge of the ferry terminal, there is a locked gate. No way around it; no way over it; and no alternative but to retrace our steps. The walk out and back takes about 45 minutes - an extra couple of miles. Surely a sign at the entrance to the walkway saying something like "no access to the ferry terminal" wouldn't have been too much to expect? Irritating. However, we eventually arrive in Heysham via a park and some roads.....and leave almost immediately via a grassy path running a few feet above the sea. This eventually brings us to Morecambe which is attractive and surprisingly extensive - it takes us a good hour after entering the town to reach the lighthouse and the "iconic" Midland Hotel where, shock horror, there is a very light and short rain shower. We pass Morecambe Golf Course and, from Hest Bank to Carnforth, we're walking very close to the main North-West rail line which Helen (who is joining us for the evening and tomorrow's walk) is having some difficulty in reaching due to problems with the train from Birmingham to Lancaster. Our walk today ends at a bridge over the River Keer just outside Carnforth, and we arrive in the town itself shortly after 5:30, which was Helen's scheduled arrival time. However, her most recent update reports a delay of about an hour which gives us more than enough time to check in at the Royal Station Hotel and have a couple of ciders, and for John then to pop back to the station to greet Helen - no doubt re-enacting the scene filmed there in Brief Encounter. The hotel is a pub with rooms, and it is not immediately apparent why it merits its regal prefix. Cheap and cheerful is perhaps the best description, but the showers work and sufficient quantities of wine/stickies are available with supper. So no major complaints.

Day 70 - Cockerham (Cocker Bridge) to Overton



Comfortable rooms and a good breakfast. The Stork will find its way onto the short list of best places to stay when we eventually get round to compiling it. Our bus journey this morning is on the 89H (in case you're wondering, because its route has taken it past Lancaster Hospital) which arrives a few minutes late, but helpfully drops us at Cocker Bridge itself. A windy day which would make it difficult for a crow to fly the two miles which John informs is the direct distance to Overton - and we have 16 or 17 miles to walk around the coast and the River Lune. The first stretch along an embankment above the River Cocker isn't too bad, but we're given an idea of what's to come when we turn into the wind  towards Bank End Farm. At least when we've rounded the farm and passed a couple of caravan sites to arrive by the coast, the wind is coming from over the shoulder, but...well..."buffeting" is the word which springs to mind. After skirting around the Chapter House of Cockersand Abbey overlooking the sea (and built in about 1230 apparently) we go through a farm and some fields where the second bovine encounter of this trip occurs. In one of the fields, the farmer appears on a quadbike "herding" (if that's a word that can be applied to a single animal) a cow beside a hedge towards us. He informs us that the cow is ill and suggests that we take care in case it falls over when passing us! Exactly what evasive action we could take is unclear. However, we manage to get by without being crushed and soon arrive at Glasson Dock which, until the late 19th century, was Lancaster's main port, and from where our route continues along the trackbed of the former railway from Lancaster to the port. After a mile or so, we cross an old railway bridge over the River Conder from where we can see, about 400 yards away and after over two hours of walking, the Stork Inn! The crow should be well ensconced in Overton by now. The old railway track goes through a picnic site, getting increasingly close to the Lune, but for the most part it is lined with trees so the wind is hardly noticeable - for now at least. When we leave the track close to a place called Aldcliffe, we're back on an exposed and narrow embankment along the edge of a saltmarsh between us and the river. The wind is blowing from the west (our left) and, at times, is so strong that it's necessary to concentrate on walking in a reasonably straight line. However, when the embankment turns right as the river narrows, we're walking downwind towards Lancaster, and Snatchem's Inn (reputedly something to do with pressgangs) on the opposite bank causes thoughts to turn to refreshment later in the day. A thought of more immediate relevance is where we'll be able to cross the Lune. We're hopeful that there will be a walkway alongside the railway bridge and, whilst our hopes are realised, it is undergoing repairs so we can't use it. Instead, we have to use the Millennium  pedestrian bridge just over a quarter of a mile further on. The walk along the north bank of the Lune is back into the wind, but it's not as bad as the earlier crosswind. The first couple of miles are pretty close to the river but, shortly after passing Snatchem's, we have to go inland and follow the roads into Overton. We've decided not to call in at Snatchem's because, according to the internet, there are two hostelries in Overton itself. However, the first one we pass (The Ship) is boarded up, and the second (The Globe), whilst ostensibly operational - i.e. some tables have cloths on them - is shut and completely deserted. A cab is accordingly summoned, and thankfully (it is now distinctly chilly) arrives reasonably quickly. The driver is a bit puzzled about the Marie Celestian nature of the Globe, having been there himself a few weeks ago. In any event, he gets us to Lancaster station - via what feels like a lengthy series of decreasing circles in the town - in sufficiently good time that we're able to wander to the nearby Merchants Bar (via the local Information Centre for postcards) and have a relaxed beer before catching our train.
Footnote/Legal Update:  John provides the information during the course of the two days that the case of Harkness Junior v Worcester College (see day 67) has not been pursued following a fulsome apology from a university accommodation officer. The latest dispute is the potential case of R v Person or Persons Unknown in re Winchcombe Wheelers Road Traffic Incident. 

Day 69 - Blackpool to Cockerham (Cocker Bridge)



Beardie's early morning train from Euston arrives on time at Birmingham, where John's attempts to buy breakfast have again been thwarted - on this occasion by the labyrinthine nature of New Street's exit and platform connecting passageways. However, he does manage to join the train from Euston, and a 15 minute delay to our arrival time in Preston is of no concern because it simply reduces the wait for our connecting train whilst leaving sufficient time for the purchase of bacon sandwiches and coffees. So shortly after 11 o'clock, we're back on Blackpool's sea front where a distinctly "fresh" breeze is, helpfully, blowing from behind us. The route out of Blackpool is ordinary at best, not helped by a series of coastal protection works which keeps us away from (and out of sight of) the sea. However, the scenery improves as we approach Fleetwood and are able to use the path between the coast and the golf course, where very little of the play which we witness is taking advantage of the following wind - only one shot seems to rise much above head height. After low tide, the Fleetwood to Knott End ferry is due to be resuming its half hourly trip across the River Wyre at 1:00 pm and, as we get to the centre of the town at 1:45, we're well on schedule to catch the 2 o'clock. However, a notice on the slipway gate informs us that the ferry isn't running. Apparently, it was "beached" at low tide and there's a suggestion that there's a technical problem as well. Unfortunately, the one person we see on the other side of the gate hasn't been on a customer care course and only has the time to inform us that he has no idea when the service will resume before going back into the ferry office. It doesn't take much discussion for us to decide to throw some money at a local cab to drive us the twelve miles around the estuary rather than wait to see when we might be permitted to navigate the 400 yards across the Wyre although, when we reach Knott End at about 2:20, we are all keen to get away from the river as quickly as we can - just in case the ferry service resumes and we see the 2:30 pulling away from Fleetwood. We now walk on an embankment alongside a saltmarsh and then, shortly before Fluke Hall, a beach. At this point, we come across some Environment Agency works and "path closed" signs on the embankment, but the Agency people we encounter volunteer the helpful opinion that, if we'd walked past them along the beach and had then climbed up onto the path, they wouldn't have been able to stop us, so.....why not wander through anyway? However, once we've passed Pilling and arrived at Lane Ends, it's clear (and Gary's increasingly helpful guide to the Coastal Way confirms) that the continuation of the embankment is not open to public access and we have to divert inland. This takes us through a farmyard where we're supposed to go down a concrete track by some barns, but this is rendered somewhat impractical by the track being full of cattle waiting to be milked! We think it wise not to disturb them and, fortunately, come across a farm worker who takes us through the barns and into the fields beyond. After that, a series of tracks and roads bring us to the A588 at Cocker Bridge which marks the finish of today's instalment. We stroll along the road towards Cockerham, and arrive at a bus stop a mere 10 minutes before the scheduled (and actual) arrival time of the 89 bus from Knott End to Lancaster which drops us outside our overnight resting place, the Stork Inn at Conder Green, shortly after 6 o'clock. Beers on arrival, showers (more than acceptable), a bottle of white at the bar whilst ordering and waiting for supper, and a bottle of red with the supper itself which is excellent - fish and chips/double burger/meat loaf. Very restrained although, having re-established the tradition on our last trip, we conclude the evening with a couple of large stickies each.

Day 68 - Freckleton to Blackpool




Very comfortable rooms at the Queen's, and a 7:00 a.m. brekker. We agree that the only entry to be placed in the hotel's debit column is the lack of water power in the showers. Another Colin (or Norman perhaps?) from Whitesides transports us back to Freckleton. He hails from Perth, WA, but has lived in Lancashire for about 20 years. (Think Frank Spencer attempting an Australian accent.) The Coastal Way starts with a somewhat rocky and flotsam bestrewn stretch along the edge of Freckleton Marsh and then passes beside the perimeter fence of Warton Aerodrome - an extremely large installation which, by the look of it, is the home to some very modern fighter jets. In fact, had Gary brought along his copy of the largely uninformative guide to the Lancashire Coastal Way, he would have been able to tell John and Ben that, following its closure as a major US air base at the end of World War II, Warton is now a BAe complex "recognised as a centre of excellence for the design and manufacture of military aircraft including the Eurofighter 2000, Hawk and Tornado". As it is, all we do when passing the site is comment on the grammatical errors in the perimeter signage. Shortly after the aerodrome, we're back in the prosperous surroundings of Lytham and St Anne's (M-A-D Johnny ends his day's walk at one of the many sea-front benches) and well on our way to Blackpool. This involves yet another lengthy but easy stroll along the beach in bright sunshine - a hard life, but somebody's got to do it. Today's texts from JG inform us that, when he arrived in Manchester at 9:30, Charlie was up and ready to leave (bit of a surprise) and that mushrooms have been purchased - in the hope that they'll still be required - at Keele Services Waitrose. Phew! Anyway, back to the beach. We've ascertained that high tide is shortly after 1:00 p.m. which, at noon, seems unlikely given the significant distance between us and the sea. However, during the next half hour, the tide comes in with some speed and, by the time we walk up onto the prom, we're only a few yards away from having a paddle. This is close to Blackpool's Pleasure Beach, although what "pleasure" can possibly be derived from the rides on offer there is a mystery and, indeed, background screaming accompanies the next 10 minutes of our approach to the centre of Blackpool where it seems that the majority of the businesses are, perhaps not surprisingly, fish and chip sellers, amusement arcades or cabaret "nitespots". We toy with the idea of continuing a little way beyond Blackpool and coming back via the Tramway, but eventually decide to finish just after passing the North Pier in the hope of finding somewhere suitable for "lunch" on the walk to Blackpool North Station. At the start of that walk, there is the slightly dispiriting sight of a clothes shop proclaiming that it stocks sizes from 2XL to 8XL but, around the corner, there is the far less dispiriting sight of the Duke of York pub. Our decision to finish where we did proves to have been well taken. The pub is welcoming and quiet, and there's just enough time for a couple of relaxed al fresco pints with paninis before we need to catch our train to Preston where we have a stroke of good fortune. An incident earlier in the day near Lancaster has resulted in severe delays to most services, but the train on which we're booked is one of the few running on time. Hoorah! It's slightly delayed getting to New Street, but John catches his connecting train there with a minute to spare, and Ben and Gary celebrate with half a bottle of red on the way back to Euston.       

Day 67 - Tarleton to Freckleton




Dear Blog - A curious day following a perfectly ordinary start. Nobody sleeps through an alarm. All rail cards and tickets are remembered. John has problems sourcing his usual bacon sandwich (his customary Cheltenham breakfast stop is now a pizzeria, and no time at New Street due to delayed arrival), but the train to Preston provides a BLT and arrives on time, and a station Colin gets us to Tarleton before 10:30. No problems finding our way back to, and crossing, the Douglas and, as we walk back along the bank opposite the one which was signposted as eroded on day 66, we discover that the structure over the river close to the Light Railway is, in fact, a raised pipe and not a bridge. So it wouldn't have been possible to cross at an earlier point than we finally did this morning. So far, so unremarkable. However, we then witness a "mini-bore" rolling back up the Douglas towards Tarleton and, shortly after Ben has informed us that JG's son, Charlie, has been asked to leave Manchester University, he receives a text (an event worthy of mention in itself) from JG asking where we are walking today. The natural speculation ensues, and exchanges of texts with JG over the following few hours establish that he is indeed in Manchester to collect Charlie and his belongings, that Charlie is staying in Manchester for one final night, and that JG would prefer to spend his Monday evening with us. However, there are no vacancies at the Queen's in Lytham (where we're staying) or at a neighbouring hotel - apparently due to Mondays/Tuesdays being "conference days" - so JG decides to book a deluxe room at the Grand in St Anne's, and we arrange, somewhat hopefully, to meet him for a drink at our planned pre-Lytham stopping point, The Ship in Freckleton. Throughout these text exchanges, there is also a series of phone calls between John and son Simon. Following the recent decision in the case of Harkness v Singapore Airlines (Claimant in person partly successful with no order for costs), the prospect of fresh litigation is being discussed, namely Harkness Junior v Worcester College in re Randolph Hotel Fire. However, by early afternoon, it sounds as though matters are unlikely to proceed beyond negotiations with the College Bursar (watch this space). And in the midst of all this excitement, we still manage to walk 19 warm and sunny miles. Along the Douglas we complete 1,000 miles since starting the South West Coast Path just over 4 years ago, and then reach the Ribble and a green and pleasant route along its south bank towards Preston. Pausing by Penwortham Golf Course, we are mildly chastised by a member of a fourball for not applauding his tee shot (we hadn't seen where it ended up), so we pay more attention to one of his partners who promptly pings his shot towards the river and out of bounds. We continue on our way, realising at this point, 5 miles after the 1,000 barrier, that we've just left behind M-A-D Johnny to celebrate achieving his increasingly pathetic 15 miles a day average. After crossing the river in Preston, we're only able to walk along the north bank for three or four more miles. Shortly after a marina, and by the Ribble Steam Railway, the cycle track which we're following goes away from the river and, rather disappointingly, we spend our final couple of hours walking alongside the main Preston to Blackpool road, and the A584 towards Lytham. As anticipated, the walk ends short of Lytham itself, at Freckleton by the official start of the Lancashire Coastal Way, whence we repair to The Ship. Extraordinarily, JG arrives just five minutes later. Even more extraordinarily given the time of day (around 5:15), it seems that Linda is still expecting him and Charlie to be going back to London this evening, because she has just sent a message asking JG to buy some mushrooms on the way home for a casserole dinner! Following a 15 minute period of reflection, he wanders outside to bring Linda somewhat belatedly up to date with the day's developments, and returns looking none the worse for the experience. After a couple of ciders, John, Ben and Gary go to the Queen's, courtesy of Messrs Whitesides Taxis, leaving JG (whose car is encumbered with filial possessions) to make his own way to the Grand. We all rendezvous later at the Queen's for supper which comprises fish and chips (as recommended by our cab driver), three bottles of wine and, for the first time during the last few trips, a couple of stickies. All of this means that, in another noteworthy departure from recent practice - and having wished JG good fortune for the morrow - the Queen's residents don't retire to their rooms until after 9:30.

Day 66 - Southport to Tarleton


We have breakfast and check out in time for an 8:15 departure from the Hotel, and Ben effects early purchase of postcards while John dons his boots and puttees. For the first hour or so, having retraced our steps to the marine lake, we walk alongside the A565 towards Preston but, when the road turns away from the coast, we start to follow an embankment which runs between the sea/marsh on one side and farmland on the other. Someone has suggested that today's route should be pretty straightforward, but this does not take into account the fact that, as it transpires, sections of the embankment have been closed "to strengthen flood defences". Not only is the logger unaware of this, but also it is not immediately clear on the route itself which sections are closed (either that or we don't see the signs). As a result, we firstly take what proves to be an unnecessary diversion (of about a mile and a half) away from, then parallel with and finally back to the embankment and, shortly afterwards, continue along what is, in fact, a closed section. Fortunately, when we realise the second error, we're able to get over a gate and onto a couple of farm tracks (just before some livestock herding by the farmers) which ultimately lead back to the next open stretch of embankment close to where the River Douglas flows into the Ribble. We're hoping to end today's walk at one of the pubs somewhere on the other side of the Douglas but the precise location will depend on whether we can get across the river before it reaches Tarleton. Some maps - including those by the river - suggest that there might be a bridge by the West Lancs Light Railway. However, no such bridge appears and, just beyond the Light Railway, we find that the river bank itself has been closed because of erosion. This necessitates walking along various lanes and roads and means that we probably won't get beyond Tarleton itself. The probability becomes a certainty after a couple of phone calls establish that the Cock & Bottle in Tarleton serves food until 3:00 pm and that a taxi firm in Preston can provide a cab to pick us up at 3:45 and take us to Preston station. Lunch at the Cock & Bottle is, therefore, suitably relaxed, and M-A-D Johnny is now lagging 4 or 5 miles behind us. Ben takes the front seat in the cab and has much to talk about with the driver who also has numerous children. We arrive at Preston in good time, which permits an unhurried visit to the station buffet (the selection of John Smith's by one of our number is a schoolboy error) before catching our trains home.                                              

Day 65 - Bootle to Southport




Three minor admin hiccups this morning. First, Gary sleeps through his alarm, but fortunately the early morning tubes arrive promptly and he boards the 6:43 from Euston (finding Ben already in situ) with three minutes to spare. Secondly, John forgets his 60+ rail card but, after several failed attempts, Helen sends a scanned copy to his smartphone - which isn't then required by less than diligent ticket inspectors (or whatever they're now called). And finally, our plan to effect a potentially snappy train connection to Merseyrail at Liverpool South Parkway rather than continuing to Lime Street and walking to Liverpool Central comes a cropper due to a 10 minute delay on London Midland's train from New Street and the distance between platforms at LS Parkway being almost as long as the walk between stations in Liverpool. Net result - as we come down the steps to the Merseyrail platform, the train we're hoping to catch to Oriel Road is just leaving. Still, it's only a 15 minute wait for the next train, which gives time for sandwich buying, and a comfort break for the oldest member of the party. So we finally arrive at Oriel Road around 10:50, and are back on the canal towpath by 11:00. However, further hiccup within the first half hour or so when, having ignored (in customary fashion) a no entry sign by a canal bridge, we find at another bridge half a mile further on that works are being carried out to an extent which leads even John to acknowledge that we can't continue along the towpath and need to retrace our steps to the no entry sign! The only comfort to be derived from this is that M-A-D Johnny will have encountered the same problem. In fact, the subsequent walk through the streets of Seaforth isn't too bad and, in less than an hour, we're walking round the marine lake at Crosby and approaching "Another Place" - i.e. the Gormley Statues which extend for almost two miles along the beach. At times, it's difficult to work out whether figures in the distance are people or statues, and our route along the sands means that we can't assess the attractions of the West Lancs Golf Club. Approaching Hightown, we veer slightly away from the coast to follow a short stretch of the Liverpool to Southport railway line, but we soon return towards the sands and spend around 20 minutes attempting to navigate our way through some dunes near Formby. Our efforts end when Ben suggests that we try to get through to the beach and see if that provides an easier route north. This proves to be a "Which Best Buy" of suggestions. When we emerge from the dunes, the tide is out, the sand is firm and extends practically unoccupied, in clear bright weather, as far as the eye can see. These glorious conditions last for around 90 minutes until, late in the afternoon, the wind whips up (fortunately from behind) creating what can best be described as a protracted series of sand waves blowing in front of us. As we enter our 19th mile of the day, we finally overtake M-A-D Johnny who isn't going to have a pleasant night because the wind is now accompanied by some squally showers. We can make out Southport pier in the distance, but it isn't now clear how far we can continue walking along the beach. A car park beside the coast road is visible and we decide to walk over to it - albeit across what proves to be a rather boggy stretch of grass. Eventually, with night falling and 21 miles under our belts, we come to the end of today's coast walk by Southport's marine lake and trudge a bit wearily into the town and our overnight stop, the Bold Hotel on Lord Street. The customary couple of ciders are consumed on arrival before going to our rooms (John finds the modus operandi  of the key card to his room unusually confusing), showering/bathing and returning to the bar for supper. Good food, and two (or was it three??) bottles of red, and - again as has become customary - we're back in our rooms for the night by 9 o'clock.

Day 64 - Caldy to Bootle


And a very good breakfast too. Despite some lights fusing in Ben's and Gary's rooms this morning, the Jug and Bottle probably secures a place in the top 5 establishments where we've stayed although, apart from agreeing that the Harp Inn at Old Radnor remains the undisputed number one, we haven't yet formulated a list. Joyce is parked outside when we leave at 8:15, and we're back in Caldy for 8:30. The start of today's walk is along a track bordered by some very desirable properties (Joyce has informed us that Robbie Fowler owns one of the houses in the area - probably more than one), but, very soon, as we approach the marine lake at West Kirby, our re-acquaintance with the coast is complete. Our approach coincides with low tide at 8:45 and we are therefore able to walk around the marine lake and then undertake what proves to be some pretty lengthy beach action. In fact, subject to a few very minor diversions, we're able to remain on the sand almost as far as New Brighton - and two of those diversions are along the boundaries of Hoylake and Wallasey Golf Clubs. It's quite a mild and reasonably bright morning with no wind (jackets, gloves and hats have been removed) and Hoylake looks what it is: a wonderfully traditional links course. At Wallasey, we pause a while to watch a couple of punters tee off. Punter A bunts his ball a reasonable distance - it would have been Battenesque if it wasn't for the fact that the ball ends up just off the fairway in a bit of rough. Punter B's ball is topped and doesn't reach the fairway - it would have been Hodgsonesque if it wasn't for the fact that the ball manages to get beyond the ladies' tee! Despite the pause, our progress is matching that of yesterday and, having calculated our average daily mileage from the first day on the South West Coast Path, we know that we are catching our appointed Gold Standard Bearer, Johnny 15 Miles-A-Day ("Mad Johnny"?). It's also clear that we are going to reach Birkenhead in time to catch the 1:20 ferry, which is two hours earlier than the ferry which we were expecting to catch. A bit of research is therefore required into what further inroads we might be able to make into Mad Johnny's lead once we've reached the Liverpool side of the Mersey but, before then, jackets, gloves and hats need to be donned again because, as we round the northern tip of the Wirral peninsula, we encounter a distinctly chilly breeze. It doesn't, of course, become any less chilly on the ferry itself (cue Gerry and his Pacemakers) and the coffees which John and Gary consume before boarding have little, if any, warming effect. Study by Ben and John of the OS Map and GPS have established a route out of Liverpool which involves the towpath of the Leeds-Liverpool canal and therefore avoids some of the mean streets of Bootle. Not all of them however. As we wander up a narrow lane between disused warehouses on our way to the canal, John says he's thankful that it's daylight and that there are three of us. Why he thinks that the presence of Ben and Gary would be of any value in the scenario he's envisaging is a complete mystery! However, we reach the canal without incident and walk a couple of miles or so along the towpath to our finishing point at a bridge very close to Bootle Oriel Road station leaving Mad Johnny a mere 5 miles ahead of us. A local train back to Liverpool Central followed by a short walk, and we're at Lime Street around 3:45 - some 45 minutes before John's train and an hour before Ben and Gary's. What to do....? Coopers Bar provides the rather obvious answer for a couple of ciders each, and the Upper Crust provides some solid sustenance for John and Gary. We leave, anticipating the next two days of the walk in three weeks time when, all being well, we should at some stage be looking at Mad Johnny through our collective rear view mirror.    

Day 63 - Chester to Caldy



First expedition of 2015. No delay on Beardie's early morning train from Euston means that, with John joining Ben and Gary at New Street, we make a connection at Crewe which gets us to Chester around 9:45. Courtesy of Colin, we're at our starting point just after 10:00, but there is some uncertainty as to whether this was our precise finishing point last November. However, without establishing a laxity precedent, we agree that any discrepancy is de minimis and not such as to merit an adjustment to, or qualification of, the log. A dry cloudy day with a noticeable breeze from the west. Ben is braving the February elements in shorts but, apart from this, thermals, gloves, hats and jackets are the order of (and required for most of) the day. The route out of Chester is a series of flat cycle paths, pavements and well defined field tracks, so progress is extremely good - around 3 mph. After passing through Puddington and Burton, we almost renew acquaintance with the coast - marshland being the only thing between us and the Dee Estuary and our path being, in fact, the line of the old coast. Our plan to meet Ben and Cath's chums, Joyce and Chris near Caldy GC around 5:00 pm was originally regarded as a bit "cuspy" but, with our speed being maintained, we feel more than confident stopping for a drop of lunch in Parkgate. It doesn't take too much of an effort to resist one establishment whose primary advertised selling point is "as many chips as you can eat" (memories of Chipperville(s) in 2011 come flooding back) and we opt instead for ciders and soup/sandwich at The Ship. As a result, our confidence in keeping (more or less) to our pre-lunch speed is not misplaced. By the time we've passed Gayton and Heswall and have reached Thurstaston, Ben is able to phone Joyce and inform her that we'll get to a car park just beyond Caldy by 4:45. We pass the golf course and Joyce appears at the end of the path across the road from the car park to drive us (along with Chris) back to the Jug and Bottle at Heswall. If places can be judged on the basis of first impressions, this is going to be very good. Friendly staff and comfortable armchairs in front of a warming fire constitute an excellent environment in which to ease away the aches of the day with the assistance of pints of cider - or halves of lager for Joyce and Chris who then leave us to our own devices, Joyce having kindly offered to pick us up at 8:15 tomorrow and take us back to Caldy before going to dispense justice to a few scallies at Birkenhead Magistrates' Court. Rather radically, the first of our "devices" is a bottle of red before freshening up for supper. Then three further bottles of red with a very good meal, and wearily retiring to our rooms before 9 o'clock.