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.
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