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.

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.