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.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)