Monthly Archives: February 2023

DISAPPOINTMENT.

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I was actually in Cowley Brook woodland that is on the fell road below Geoffrey Hill. As I entered through the small pedestrian gate I could hear and then see a small flock of common crossbills high up the Scots pine”   Grimsargh Wildlife Forum. 21 February at 15.22.

Having read that this morning and not having seen a Crosshill for years I was parked up by the plantation after lunch. I entered through the same small gate and wandered into the pines. I could hear what I thought were Crossbills somewhere in the depths…

♫ Red Crossbill – song / call / voice / sound. (british-birdsongs.uk)

…but I could not see them. I wandered up and down the plantation just above the brook, stopped and listened, scanned with my binoculars – but not a sighting. I completed a loop around the plantation, still hearing them in places, I concluded that I’m not very good at bird spotting, swallowed my pride and disappointedly headed back.

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As I was walking around I was disappointed to see that it has been necessary for United Utilities to display on several trees notices reminding dog owners to remove their dog’s mess. That is despite large notices at the entrance gate advising on sensible conduct. It struck me that if they, the dog owners, don’t heed this then the additional signs will have little effect. What a shame that this little wild life area is suffering from urban park mentality and that the ‘wildness’ is being polluted, in my opinion, by additional signage.DSC00164

Back at the gate I had my third disappointment- a great pile of rubbish, overwhelmingly dog poo bags. Perhaps these had been collected by someone, but why not bag them and remove them from the site. On the gate are some bin liners for people to deposit their poo bags (Why not take them home in the first place?) and maybe one of these had burst or been damaged by animals – there are deer, foxes and crows about. Whatever, it is a right mess for someone to clear up – presumably United Utilities. I don’t know how frequently the warden visits. All very unsatisfactory.

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I may return tomorrow on my quest to spot a Crossbill, but by then they could be anywhere in the forests on Longridge Fell.

KEEPING IT LOCAL.

DSC00142I may have used this title for a post in the past. Whilst fellow bloggers are exploring Manchester, White Nancy, Covid and Wildlife crimes I’m content with a walk around my local lanes. After my drubbing, is that a word, the other day on the Guild Wheel cycle route contentment is the prime objective. I live on the edge of the countryside, but only just with all the new developments, so for many walks I don’t need my car – just set off from the front door.

The road out of the village past the cricket ground is far busier than I ever remember it, a speedway to Chipping. That is why for my cycling these days I prefer the off-road routes. Anyhow, I’m walking today. Storm Otto blew itself out here in the morning and now the sun is shining. As I was saying the road is busy and after a stretch where the footpath ends I resort to evasive action crossing and recrossing to have a straight view of the traffic and hopefully them me. All along are views of the Bowland Hills tempting me to the north. Past that archetypal country inn.

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Is that a Kestrel in the tree?

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I survive to where I turn up a side lane heading for Longridge Fell. Those white railings, sited on corners for better through visibility, are slowly disappearing – a rural crime.

DSC00148I stop to talk to a farmer about the winters we never have these days. (tempting fate I know). Along comes a car which stops to reveal a dog walking friend fresh off the fell and heading for a nearby farm café, a good catch up ensures. I’m then admiring the hedge layering skills along the way and am lucky enough to come across the skilled labourer himself. A chain saw now makes the labour easier, but he has to be careful with the final close cut. A bill hook finishes off the branch severing, leaving a slender life giving, bent over, horizontal, stem for further growth. The whole process is to keep the hawthorn hedge thick at the base and stock proof in the future.  He seems happy in his work and as he says ” jobs a goodun”

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There is a steep hill ahead of me but I have no problem which is reassuring after my last outing mentioned above. (my Covid test was negative by the way)  On the way up my mind wanders to future projects – Simon Armitage’s Stanza Stones, finishing off my Cicerone series, getting back on the rock, visiting friends afar not seen since before the lockdown and dare I hope getting back to the Canary Islands. Dreams. Inshallah.

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I scan the reservoir for grebes, but the water is too rough today, I’m hoping to catch them in their courting display this year after last year being entertained by the chicks being carried on their mother’s back. DSC00157

Down through the housing estates and I call in at JD’s for a welcome coffee and plans. A ghostly barn owl quarters across the remaining fields in front of his house. He alerts me to this signage along the road which I had not noticed before – see me after school.

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WOODEN ON THE WHEEL.

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There was promise of sunshine – well there wasn’t any.

I’d hoped to spot some birds on the lakes in Brockholes Nature reserve, I even took my binoculars – I only saw a few coots and a couple of swans.

Maybe a few arty photographs – my camera had reset itself to the wrong setting, so most were out of focus.

I was intent on improving my fitness – just the opposite as you will see.

What else went wrong – well I didn’t get a puncture, thank God.

At the start of the Guild Wheel, I start at the Crematorium, I seemed to be going well yet the cyclists (amateur at best) seen in my photo kept passing me, and I struggled to keep up their pace. My breathing wasn’t right. After my brief unsuccessful stop off at one of the hides in Brockholes for a while along the flat rural section alongside the Ribble I gained a better rhythm. But on the two little rises into Preston I puffed and panted and just avoided dismounting. It was Half Term and there were families out in the parks. I was still just behind those two as we approached the docks, they stopped for a break and I peddled on. The long drag out alongside Blackpool Road was taken slowly, but I misjudged the turn-off for the steep bit onto the bridge and ended up walking. Under the new bridge for Preston’s Western Distributor road and I found myself flagging. A timely bench was too much of a temptation and I succumbed, maybe some food and a drink might help. The pair whizzed cheerily past.

Off again, Preston North End were on their training ground, but they have recently screened it off, so I could only hear their punishing work-out. I felt I was on my own punishing workout. Cottam came and went, and I knew the hilly section was coming up. My legs were the proverbial lead. I just about managed the slight rise over the railway before entering Broughton, new houses everywhere. I knew of the seat opposite the War Memorial and was glad of another sit down and some emergency chocolate. The inscription says “Rest awhile and think on their sacrifice” I sat and thought for quite a while.

Round the back of Asda I plodded on just wishing the next three miles away. I dismounted at all the little inclines and in fact towards the end after a steep hill I just kept pushing the bike for some distance and relief before cycling the last half mile. I’ve not felt so tired for ages, even after my bath I’m feeling stiff and achy.

Sorry to be so miserable, perhaps I should do a Covid test tomorrow.

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A GENTLE SIDE TO BOWLAND.

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Forget the rugged and isolated high tops of the Bowland Fells with their difficult peaty ways. This walk is for children, dogs and geriatrics like me.

Mike, or should I bestow on him a blog monicker of ‘metal Micky‘ used by his nearest and dearest after his second hip replacement, is going walking in the Canaries and is keen to get some miles under his belt. I put him off yesterday whilst I had a well-earned rest from our walk around the wells of Silverdale. No pun intended and no excuse today, I even went for an early start, so he could be home by 3pm for the televised rugby. We juggled a couple of routes and plumped for what is called locally the Little Bowland area. CaptureLittle Bowland.

A gentle start into the Leagram Estate with a peer over the wall at their extensive snowdrop dell which I managed to gain entry to last year. The fallen oak in the parkland from then has been cleared.

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A drift of snowdrops.

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A stately Leagram Oak.

The farm at Chipping Lawn (lawn derived from ‘laund’, a Medieval grassy area for deer) was heaving with lambs of all ages, weaned off their mothers. The mothers can then continue to be milked for Bowland Ewes Cheese. The youngsters meanwhile suck on dummy dummies for powdered milk. That is the evolved technical face of farming today.

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A mob of lambs.

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Suckling station.

We move on up the fell, passing Birchen Lee where a couple are busy laying flags. They are happy to chat about the locality. I know he crafts handmade furniture from seasoned oak which I would like to see, but I’m reluctant to distract him from his labours. We move on.

I have no spare coins to buy some free-range eggs at the Saddle Side farm road end. We move on up the lane going nowhere except a couple of properties at isolated Burnslack in the bosom of Bowland. We don’t go that far but turn off on an ancient bridleway along the base of the fells to Lickhurst, another isolated group of farmsteads now being gentrified as is the norm. I could tell some stories of these farms 50 years ago when reaching them in winter was an epic journey. Let’s leave them in peace, I don’t even take a picture, but there are some on my posts somewhere if you care to look.

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Our high bridleway over Stanley to LIckhurst.

Let’s extend the walk and give us both a bit more exercise. So instead of following the lane down over fords we cross a little footbridge, and suddenly we are in limestone country. Coral atolls out of an ancient ocean floor, from whichever period, producing Limestone Reef Knolls. They are very obvious around here.

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Coral reefs ahead.

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Dinkling Green farmsteads our are turnaround point, we could have continued over the hills to Whitewell and beyond. We are in a beautiful green bowl of meadows below the high gritstone fells and the adjacent Limestone knolls. We meet a couple who live here who expound the virtues of their natural environment, there is no denying it.

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Dinkling Green

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The green side of Bowland. 

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Local residents heading home for lunch.

Then that iconic red phone box in the middle of nowhere. It must have been essential at one time.DSC00131

We couldn’t walk past our friends’ house at Greystoneley without a knock, next thing we are seated in their kitchen enjoying conversation, coffee and cake. That’s what friends are for. They have had problems in this area with off-road vehicles.DSC00132

The 3 o’clock deadline is getting closer as we continue down the bridleway, over the ford and past the giant limekiln.  We opt for a hopefully quicker finish along the quiet road rather than the difficult to follow field paths.

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Back in the parkland.

The exercise has done us both good, I’m relaxing in the bath whilst presumably ‘metal Micky’ is watching England thrash the Italians – or are they?

This circuit is recommended for anybody wanting to explore the foothills of Bowland and its farming communities. Just follow the map.

A ROUND OF THE SILVERDALE WELLS.

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                                                                         Across the Lots.

After our confrontation with the car park attendant, sorted by flashing our RSPB membership cards, we set off, not to watch the birds, but in search of the wells in the parish of Silverdale, that delightful scattered village. Martin had the instructions, Carol, Keith and I just followed on. Thankfully he was an expert guide and his write-up here has a map of our route.

This is limestone country but where this is underlaid by non-porous rock water will collect either as a surface ‘pond’ or seep out of the layer as a spring. The past inhabitants of Silverdale utilised this for collecting water in wells and tanks. A piped supply from the Thirlmere Aqueduct didn’t arrive until 1938.

Here is a selection of today’s photos. I would need longer to sort out our route which I will do in the future and gladly repeat the walk with my mates.

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Bank’s Well.


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Dogslack Well.


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Walkers’ traffic lights. Cross at green.


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C15th Arnside Tower.


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Well hidden Elmslack Well.


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The muddy cove – go back, go back.


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The more evident Woodwell.


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This way, honest.


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Burton Well – the last on the circuit.

An excellent morning’s walk in good company.

GLASSON AT LAST.

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Lunchtime today and I’m sat outside my favourite coffee spot on Glasson Dock. The little shop next to the café on the far side of the port, away from the motorbikes’ haunt – not that I have anything against motorcyclists. Here is where the dockworkers come for a takeaway bite to eat, a coffee and a chat. I get into conversation with a local, years past are shared, and I gain some interesting information about the previous workings of the port here. A bit of local scandal is thrown in and his views on the nearby pub couldn’t be repeated.

Once my delicious cheese and onion slice is finished I go off to find the little ‘smoke house’ on the docks, a family run business producing traditional smoked and cured fish and meats. The Port of Lancaster Smokehouse   The sign suggested the staff were chain-smoking cigarettes around the back.

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I come away with some smoked salmon for friends I visit later in the day and some potted Morecambe Bay Shrimps which I’ve just enjoyed with some toast. I can remember years ago a cottage in the old village of Heysham that sold potted shrimps in small pottery pots from their front doorstep. The husband did the shrimping with a push net at low tide and his wife boiled and peeled before potting them in her butter and spice recipe. A dying trade.  Tonight mine, even if they came in a plastic pot, were delicious, I should have asked where they were caught.

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I was glad to get through to Glasson on the Lancashire Cycleway after two recent failed attempts due to impassable flooding. Today the abandoned rail track was still damp and the ditches full either side, but I had cycled on with no problems to reach the port. Mission accomplished.

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ALL QUIET ON THE WESTERN FRONT.

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A calm sunny day out of the blue. A day that shouldn’t be wasted. Cycling will be better for me than all that weight-bearing walking on my dodgy knee. Yes it has officially become dodgy. Most people parked up on the front at Fleetwood are content to sit in their cars with the heater on, gazing out across the Wyre Estuary to Morecambe Bay. Somehow the statue of the waiting family took on a more poignant significance as the nation waits for news of Nicola Bulley who has vanished higher up the Wyre at St. Michaels.

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In a sombre mood I pedal off along the seafront, Rossall, Cleveleys, Bispham, North Shore, The Golden Mile, the Pleasure Beach and South Shore. All familiar landmarks of the Fylde Coast at Blackpool. There are few people about, despite the sun it is still chilly. Mainly dog walkers. I eat my sandwich at Squires Gate, I’ve come far enough and turn around to do it all again in reverse. This is a favourite ride of mine, flat all the way with lots of interest and all that good ozone and vitamin D producing light.

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The peaceful winter promenade.

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Mary’s Shell in the tide. The Ogre was under water – more of them and the Mythic Coast another time.

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The tower silently watching.

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A Ringed Plover? posing. Not a grouse in sight.

I stop briefly to chat to a fisherman casting into the sea from the shingle beach, it’s high tide. Dabs and cod could be on the menu tonight but the only catches I witness are seaweed. A patient sport angling.

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What’s for supper?

That was it really. All quiet on the western front.

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CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – THE UPPER WYRES.

DSC03324Down on the River Wyre in St. Michael’s a tragic drama is transpiring, a 45-year-old local lady, Nicola Bulley, has gone missing whilst walking her dog by the river. You will have seen it on the national news, the trauma her family are going through as the days pass, without resolution, doesn’t bear thinking about.

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The River Wyre comes out of the Bowland Hills above Abbeystead, the Tarnbrook Wyre and the Marshaw Wyre join forces there and head off into the Fylde to reach the sea at Knott End/Fleetwood. A dramatic journey. I walked the whole of the Wyre Way in 2014, can’t believe it is so long ago. Today I’m parked up in a lay-by alongside the Marshaw Wyre at Tower Lodge as suggested by Walk 11 in Mark Sutcliffe’s Cicerone guide book, exploring these two upper Wyres.

I’ve just driven through the ‘Trough’ from Dunsop Bridge, a way through the hills beloved of NW Lancashire cyclists. There were plenty this morning, the forecast being good with sunshine and little wind. In fact the last time I came this way was on my cycle way back in 2014, I remember it being a tough ride in this direction. I would need an electric bike I think for such exploits now. I have previously walked a version of this route in reverse, again in 2014.

I thought the lay-by might have been full by the time I turned up at 11am, but there were only a couple of cars. Boots on and immediately a steady uphill begins. By chance, I’m heading into The Duke Of Westminster’s territory once more. I was disparaging about grouse moors in my recent post on Clougha Pike, so today I start optimistically with only healthy thoughts of the great outdoors. I can’t believe it the first WW stone marker, of which there were many better examples along the way, depicts a rifle and a grouse. Condescending bastards.

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Putting that aside I march over the hill to views of the Clougha Pike/Ward’s Stone ridge above the Tarnbrook Wyre. I’m glad I’m not going up there today – it’s a tough long walk, although the Duke’s new motorway had made it easier in parts. We used to go up there to climb/boulder on Thorn Crag before it was open access, often resulting in being forcibly ejected. The CRoW act of 2000, despite its limitations, has been a gentle step forward. I cross the infant Tarnbrook Wyre without much thought to its journey from up on Ward’s Stone.DSC03285

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The last time I came through Tarnbrook, an old farming settlement at the end of the road, I got talking to an elderly gent, born and bred there and the last remaining permanent resident. (his family checked up with him every day). I doubt be is still here as the properties all seem to be in the process of modernisation – for rich incomers or holiday lets? A lot of history possibly lost.

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Turning my back to the hills I make my way across multiple fields westwards. Yes the stiles are rickety and not easy to spot in the low light. A few adjustments are needed after my phone GPS mapping is consulted, in the past I would have been much more careful with map and compass.

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A friendlier waymarker.

Abbeystead is reached without too much trouble and the Tarnbrook Wyre, (header photo) now more sizeable is crossed at Stoops Bridge, a popular parking area. The hamlet is the centre of the Duke’s Abbeystead estate with the mock Elizabethan estate offices, cottages and old stables.

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Gated entrance to the Duke’s Abbeystead House.

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My path takes off from the road at the far end of the village, taking me high above the Reservoir and then down below the dam and a footbridge over the Wyre. The reservoir is silting up and there is a constant cascade of water over the beautifully curved dam. All very dramatic.

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The concessionary path alongside the water is in a dreadful state. Too many feet on the muddy terrain. There is an alternative higher path to the south via Marl House and Hawthornthwaite, longer but more sustainable.  It takes an age of slippery sliding to reach dry land again near the Stoops Bridge parking.DSC03347DSC03350DSC03356DSC03349

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The Tarnbrook meets the Marshaw Wyre.

Then the parkland of Abbeystead House, the raison d’être of the area, is traversed with tantalising views of the enormous property. Lots of fields and stiles often high above the Marshaw Wyre. I must have fallen asleep and come out onto the road well off route. My map shows it all.

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The Marshaw Wyre is then followed closely back up the Trough road to those well known pines alongside the river. Tower Lodge was a welcome sight. I was getting tired and have measured my route as 8.5 miles as opposed to Mark’s 7.25. Some of that was me getting lost.

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I have reservations about this walk, yes stunning scenery in parts but lots of field stiles to negotiate, needing careful navigation. The section to the south of Abbeystead Reservoir is horrendous, muddy and awkward. I think the route would be more balanced starting in Abbeystead, with an option to take the difficult reservoir 1.5 mile loop. The road up Marshaw was tedious at the end of the day, it would be so much more enjoyable early in a walk that gradually gained height and then brought you back anticlockwise down to Abbeystead.DSC03377

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THE BAY.

DSC03274Following on from the conversation I had a couple of days ago with that gent up at Otter Geer I eventually dragged myself out of bed, breakfasted, loaded the bike and drove to my usual spot at Halton station on the Lune. Make the most of each day was my intention even though it was by now afternoon. A quick whizz along the canal and I was on the bay. The tide is out, and I can hear but can’t see the birdlife out on the edge. This vast expanse of marine environment has been highlighted by the Lancs Wildlife Trust as being under threat if important EU regulations are disbanded by our reckless government. In fact my visit here prompted me to post their letter yesterday.

I find a viewing toposcope on the promenade but have to be content with imagining the Lakeland Hills across the bay, some say the best view in Lancashire. I head for the Festival Market for a bite from the baker there – but alas they are closed on a Friday. No matter pedal back, and I find myself in Sir Hugh’s kitchen watching him expertly spray paint his latest model, a Westland Sea King Helicopter, in Search and Rescue yellow. (I missed a photo opportunity there) My coffee only vaguely tastes of thinner.

SAVE OUR NATURE AND MORE.

This has just arrived in my inbox from the Lancashire Wildlife Trust and I would like to share it with you. Whatever one thinks about Brexit I’m not happy about our government’s plans to dismantle sensible and sustainable EU laws regarding our environment. I’ve just returned from Morecambe Bay which is mentioned below so have added incentive to highlight the issue. As usual, I am biased and proud of it.
 
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The Retained EU Law Bill, nicknamed the “Bulldozer Bill”, threatens vital laws that protect our most precious wild spaces and creatures.

 

Senior Conservation Officer for Policy and Advocacy at the Lancashire Wildlife Trust, David Dunlop, discusses the impact this could have locally and why we are calling on the UK Government to #DefendNature and bin the Bulldozer Bill.

I’m truly sorry man’s dominion
Has broken Nature’s social union.

 

Robert Burns, ‘To A Mouse’

In the months just before the annual break for tinsel and holly and the ringing in of a New Year, a Bill introduced under Liz Truss’s brief Government has been remorselessly working its way through Parliament like one of those horror movie zombies.

If it were to become law the Retained EU Law (Revocation & Reform) Bill – dubbed the ‘Bulldozer Bill’ for reasons that will become all too clear below – would steadily scrub from the statute books all UK laws that have been derived from EU law over the 50 or so years that the UK was a member – those are the ones that were rolled over into UK law en masse, more-or-less unchanged, during the chaos of Teresa May’s Government, ironically to prevent even further chaos. Now that we have left, there is no link between this domestic law and the EU.

Regardless of there being any need for such haste, this ‘Bulldozer Bill’, which was introduced by now backbench MP Jacob Rees-Mogg during his brief tenure as Business Secretary under Liz Truss’s Government, would summarily get rid of them all by 31st December this year through the abuse of a “Sunset Clause”, previously used only to ensure draconian temporary emergency laws, like those on Covid-19 lockdowns, would lapse automatically unless Parliament agreed to their renewal after debate.

Ministers would have to actively choose which out of these estimated 2,400 laws and regulations to retain or change before the end of this year (that’s about seven a day full-time with no breaks for weekends or holidays); and the ‘Bulldozer Bill’ also says that any ministerial changes made now or in the future, no matter how vital for nature’s recovery, must not be a “burden” on business, or they would be automatically unlawful. The relevant Ministers would have tyrannical power to make such changes without any consultation of the public, of conservation bodies (including The Wildlife Trusts), or even the sovereign UK Parliament and its devolved assemblies.

Retained EU laws provide vital environmental protections for our air, rivers, and wildlife. They helped remove the UK’s 1970s reputation of being the ‘dirty man of Europe’ by cleaning up our waters and have kept our internationally precious nature sites safer from damage. In the local context, the “Bulldozer Bill” puts eight Special Areas of Conservation (SACs), eight Special Protection Areas (SPAs), and at least a dozen species at risk. Locally, these would include the following places:

  • Morecambe Limestones SAC, which includes our Warton Crag Nature Reserve, a paradise for some of Britain’s rarest butterflies including the pearl-bordered fritillary and small pearl-bordered fritillary.
  • Manchester Mosses SAC, which includes our Astley Moss Nature Reserve, home to the Manchester Argus butterfly, which we reintroduced to the site back in 2020 after being missing from this landscape for nearly 150 years.
  • Mersey Narrows & Wirral Foreshore SPA, which includes our Seaforth Nature Reserve, a coastal nature reserve, home to hundreds of thousands of waders and seabirds including up to 1 percent of the UK population of common tern, come summer.
  • Shell Flat & Lune Deep Reef SAC. The Lune Deep is an 80 m deep canyon carved into the shallow seabed of Morecambe Bay. Its craggy sides provide a home to a dense “sward” of plant-like sea creatures such as sea anemones, sponges, brittle stars (related to starfish), Hornwrack, and Sea-beard that feast on the tiny plankton carried to and fro on the powerful undersea tidal currents that rush past them twice a day. Edible Crabs, Lobsters and Squat-lobsters scuttle and swim amongst these. Shell Flat, in contrast is an apparently permanent bank of sand, submerged in all but the lowest tides. It has very few species of sea life – mainly brittle stars and tellins (a sort of bivalve mollusc) – but is an important feeding area for Common Scoter, a species of shy sea-duck that spends its winters in huge flocks resting on the open Irish Sea whilst moulting. It’s also an important geological feature as most sandbanks come and go over the years, but it features even on maps from the turn of the 18th century in the days of sail.

And the following species:

  • Hazel Dormouse – recently reintroduced into the Arnside-Silverdale Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty
  • Sand Lizard – one of the UK’s rarest reptiles, found in the Sefton Coast dunes and recently reintroduced by us into the Fylde dunes
  • Bats – of which the following species are known from our area; Common Pipistrelle, Soprano Pipistrelle, Brandt’s Bat, Whiskered Bat, Daubenton’s Bat, Brown Long-eared Bat, and Noctule.
  • Harbour Porpoise – thought to breed just off our coast and specially protected along with all other whale and dolphin species found in the Irish Sea.
 

Most of these laws and regulations relate to environmental protection, but others cover things as disparate as your right to paid annual leave, food labelling for allergens, equal pay for men and women, minimum food hygiene standards, and bans on testing cosmetics on animals; and all to be bulldozed simply because they originated in the EU – where they were often originally proposed by the UK Government; so the ‘Bulldozer Bill’ is also opposed by the Trades Union Congress and the Institute of Directors, amongst many others, due to concerns for people’s health, safety, and welfare.

What a complete waste of our Parliament’s, Government’s, and civil servants’ time. Time that they would be much better spending delivering on the Government’s own commitment to restore 30% of UK land and sea for nature by 2030. And time that your Wildlife Trust and other nature charities would much prefer to spend on working to deliver nature’s recovery instead of fighting this retro-1970s fantasy fest of an attack on nature. If Rishi Sunak wants to signal a new period of safe and stable government, he must pull the brakes on this runaway bulldozer.

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Thanks for reading.

CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – GRIT AND GROUSE.

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Most of this afternoon there were voices in the air telling me to ‘gobackgoback‘.  I was on the doorstep of the Duke of Westminster’s (check him and his family out on Hugh Grosvenor, 7th Duke of Westminster – Wikipedia) back garden, his vast acreage of grouse shooting moorland. I’m not sure that I had been this particular way. When I started exploring this area the CRoW act of 2000 hadn’t been passed and so this piece of land would have been no go, not that I always took any notice of those restrictions.

I get to muse on grouse shooting. If the red grouse is a native bird to the UK then surely it should be protected, along with other birds, under the Wildlife and Countryside Act, 1981. In view of this how do the aristocracy and landed gentry get away with the annual massacre for ‘sport’ on their estates? The two don’t seem to go hand in hand. But life is never fair, certainly not if you are a grouse. I’m anti shooting and hunting, so I declare my bias, but somewhere I found this, worth considering…

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No doubt the Duke gets financial recompense for some of his land being ‘open access’. The worst aspect of this on these moors is the ‘Unregulated tracks and roads’. A minor road has been created, without the usual planning restraints, right through the centre of what should be a wild area, we are short of those. See my picture later in the post.

Anyhow, I’ve had my grouse about shooting, so back to my walk. Walk 3 of Mark Sutcliffe’s Cicerone guide to walks in Lancashire, Clougha Pike and Grit Fell. The Rigg Lane car park has a notice that it is locked in the evenings, though no time is stated. That makes me nervous from the start. And my start is late, delayed till midday after a morning of frequent heavy showers.

As I said I’ve never knowingly used this approach to Clougha Pike, although I’ve been up there many times. It is a pleasant way through a wooded glade with a tumbling stream as an accompaniment. I struggle to understand the geology, all landslips and jumbles of gritstone boulders. Steadily upwards, actually quite steeply in parts through the gritstone outcrops. Once onto the open fell the way is well trodden, rough in places, most footsteps are heading to the Pike.DSC03130

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The guide mentions a right-hand ladder stile, a wooden gate and a kissing gate on the way and these are crucial to finding the correct way.

By now you are on the summit ridge and there is an easier walk up gritstone slabs to the Trig point and stone shelters of Clougha Pike, 413 m. Previous visits have given me wonderful views over Lancaster and Morecambe Bay. Today all was a little hazy. It was even more hazy ahead on the way along the ridge to Grit Fell, 467 m, with its modest cairn. ‘Gobackgoback’.DSC03157DSC03159DSC03163

That incongruous estate road is reached and followed back on itself.  A minor diversion to an old quarry used for roofing stones, the grit here splits in the best way for flat roofing shingles. But there is something else here Andy Goldsworthy’s three stone pods. I’m alone, so the usual photo opportunity goes missing.P1000719 (2)

Back on that road for a short stretch to a rocky outcrop on the right, not left as in the guide, where a narrow path heads downhill through the heather due north. Its origins become plain soon as old abandoned grouse butts are passed. The modern shooter has posh new butts closer to the road, so they don’t have to walk too far. One of the butts makes a good base for some lunch, it is nearly 3pm. All around is murky. ‘gobackgoback‘ is the constant cry as grouse take to the wing, far too rapidly for me to shoot – with my camera.DSC03180DSC03181

The path deteriorates in boggy ground but then suddenly brings you to the edge of the deep and delightful Littledale with the infant Conder River dropping on the left. I possibly went wrong here and managed to climb back up onto the moor on an inviting green track instead of following the valley base. No matter they both meet up on the road, particularly ugly and out of place here, which drops into Otter Geer Clough.

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The path disappears…

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… before dropping into Littledale.

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The infant Conder.

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Back up again.

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I told you it was ugly.

It’s along here I have my close encounter with a Red Grouse, probably protecting its breeding territory.DSC03238DSC03243DSC03247

I’m soon at the bridge carrying the Thirlmere Aqueduct which passes within half a mile of my house on its way to Heaton Park in Manchester. The water is gravity fed, an outstanding feat of Victorian engineering, and takes just over a day from source to destination. There is a varied long distance walk that follows close to its course. Whilst here I can’t resist a quick look into the nearby quarry where I helped my friend Pete develop some climbing routes maybe 30 years or so ago.DSC03253DSC03254

Being close to the car park there are more people about, and I drop into conversation with an elderly gent. Delightfully old-fashioned and attired in cobbled together clothes with several safety pins holding it all together. We chat about this and that, him advocating the benefits of regular exercise and making the effort to get out whatever the weather. He leaves me and sets off to try and discover a way up the rocky fell above us. a true character.DSC03259

It’s a pleasant stroll back through the gorse reaching the car just as darkness descends, thankfully the gate is still open.DSC03261

I’ve done variations of this walk before here and there, but I think this one from the Cicerone book gives the best route. Top class scenery and all round interest. Last words from the grouse, ‘gobackgoback‘.