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.
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