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.

Day 62 - Farndon to Chester

The consensus is that this is not so much a "boutique" establishment (as advertised) but more a pub with well furnished and decorated rooms. The breakfast isn't too bad, but perhaps a tad disappointing given that The Farndon is one of the most expensive places at which we've stayed. Still, it has the great advantage of convenience, avoiding the cost of Colin yesterday evening and this morning. Just a few minutes' walk back down the High Street to the bridge and the beginning of a day when, for most of the time, the Dee Way actually follows the banks of the...er...Dee which today has mist rising from it on a beautifully crisp, sunny morning. The first six miles are along the east side of the river past a fish farm (where our navigation goes slightly awry) and, to quote the estate agent wording of the guide book, "featuring riverside wooden chalets of various designs" (nice). To check the Farndon owner's comment yesterday evening about water levels, we've done our own very basic calculation of the movement of "ap atom" (long story) from the source of the Dee. However, the accuracy of that calculation does depend on having a vague idea of the length of the river, and all our estimates prove to be embarrassingly wide of the mark. A more reliable check is through a visual inspection which reveals that, on this topic at least, the owner may have known what he was talking about - the river level is now very high. We pass Aldford and cross to the west of the Dee where the next hour of the walk is on a path between the river and the boundary of the Eaton Estate, the not inconsiderable family home of the Duke of Westminster. The side of Chester to which the path eventually leads also seems quite prosperous - boathouses, riverside bars/restaurants and smart looking houses - and, after passing bridges leading into the city centre, we reach our second racecourse (London buses?), the Roodee. And it doesn't simply involve a "good view" of the course like yesterday, but a semi-circumnavigation on a path along the back straight and behind the stables. After a brief discussion about how far to walk in order to maximise convenience/timings on our next trip, we go through the Old Port and a short way along the Shropshire Union Canal towards Saughall. Short enough that we can walk back to the centre in 30 minutes, stopping at a pub on the road to the station which is of such a "standard" as to make us abandon it after one pint and sample the delights of the station buffet instead. Sufficient time there for a cider and sandwiches, and sufficient time on the train to share half a bottle of red before John disembarks to change trains at Crewe, and Ben and Gary continue (with further half bottles of red) to London.                                              

Day 61 - Overton Bridge to Farndon

Back to our full complement for the next couple of days, although no immediate plans for Gary to do the sections he missed on days 59 and 60. Early start, with everyone getting to Birmingham shortly after 8:00. Unfortunately, due to lack of admin coordination during the preceding few weeks, neither Ben/Gary nor John is aware of their similar arrival times at New Street and arrangements have been made to meet not there but at Stafford. Track side problems delay this rendezvous - and the onward journey to Crewe/Chester - by half an hour or so but eventually, and courtesy of Colin from Chester station, we reach the pub at Overton Bridge (which is summarily eschewed) and are "on piste" just before 11:30. For the most part, a wholly unremarkable day's walking under grey skies along an ill-defined and largely non-signposted route. It seems that John is constantly having to consult the logger to determine the direction we should be taking across what prove to be rather wet fields. Also, very little is seen of the Dee itself which keeps meandering, in a series of U-bends, away from the walk, and/or is shielded by embankments. And when it does come into view, its level seems surprisingly low. So perhaps just three points of anything approaching note. First, a brief and early pit stop at the Royal Oak just outside Bangor-on-Dee for beer and crisps during which it is established that the time previously given by John for today's sunset is about 35 minutes later than actual sunset, so we'll need to get a wiggle on to reach Farndon before nightfall. Secondly, we get a good view of Bangor-on-Dee racecourse, and realise that it's the first currently used racecourse (i.e. excluding the former Kington racecourse on day 55) which we've seen during all of our days walking. And thirdly, despite the efficiency of the logger, we take the wrong route across one particular field and, in trying to rejoin the so-called path, we cross a grassy area which is so wet that we occasionally sink to almost knee level. As a result, Ben's and Gary's socks and feet become exceedingly damp - a fate from which John is saved by his "fetching" puttees. However, in the final hour of the day on the approach to Holt, we at long last join a path alongside the river which eventually brings us to the bridge in Farndon from where it's only a short stroll up the High Street to our overnight resting place, imaginatively called The Farndon. A cheery welcome from the owner includes the opportunity to start drying our footwear in front of a log fire whilst we take on board the first beer of the evening. The owner certainly likes to chat, but some of his rather confused comments about the local beers lead us to question how much of the chat has any foundation! When we mention the low level of the Dee, he says that a period of heavy rainfall (which occurred over the weekend) doesn't affect this stretch of the river for about 36 hours. We'll be able to test the accuracy of this tomorrow. In the meantime, baths and showers (John's shower apparently not of the highest standard) and good food and wine are followed by a comfortable night.

Day 60 (still no Gary): 5 September 2014 Near Oswestry to Overton Bridge

Taxi Johnny from the previous day picked us up promptly after a decent breakfast at the b and b adjoining then pub, where we had spent the night. We were redeposited at our crossroads and were under way by 8.40. Plenty of time to make our day’s destination, the Cross Foxes at Overton Bridge, where we were to be collected at 3 30 by Taxi Johnny, with plenty of time to make the train in Chester. Despite managing to take the wrong path almost straight away, we were soon back on track and making good progress northwards. Today was the day we were to say goodbye to the Offa’s Dyke walk (who wants to go to Prestatyn anyway) and strike off northeast along the Dee. Although this was the one thing we had to worry about, we naturally managed to miss the turn we had intended to make, shortly before Chirk, but got back on track quickly enough.

Our planned route involved a crossing of the Ceiriog, whose north bank we followed for a section that splendidly took us under the viaducts for the Llangollen Canal and the railway, then a pleasant section along the canal before, crossing a main road, we were on the Llwbyr Maelor Way and on the last leg to Overton Bridge. Still plenty of time…but when we were around the Ceiriog/Dee confluence, we managed to go wrong by staying too close to the river. One of John’s cross-country recoveries, involving much scrambling through brambles and bracken and up slopes that challenged Ben’s vertigo (hypnotherapy or not), we eventually got back on track. We were now a bit short of time, but a frisky load of bullocks enabled us to get through Flannog farm briskly enough, and after a rather easier stretch along the Dee, and the old helpful short cut, we made it to the pub at Overton Bridge with twelve minutes in hand.

Our travails were not done yet, however. Taxi Johnny was nowhere to be seen and had to be summoned from Oswestry. His confident demeanour began to wear a little thin as he decided to take us to Chester station through the clogged middle of the city, spurning the rather empty-looking by-pass. We were both booked onto a particular train, John so that he could do a nifty change at Milton Keynes Central and see Gloucester’s first game of the season at Northampton. Missing the train would have been a disaster (although John may wish he’d missed the game: Gloucester lost 53 -6: tries by North (3), Pisi, Burrell (2), Fotuali’i and Fisher).

We made it by just over a minute and were grateful for the red wine freely (as in readily not gratis) available at buffet car. 16.3 miles in 6 hours, 40 minutes.