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.
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