August Bank Holiday Monday.
For a change I park at the Crook of Lune, famous for its Turner painting. looking up to Hornby Castle and Ingleborough. That view is still there today. I rely on my phone’s camera rather than any artistic ability.
And then I’m off cycling the old railway line to Halton. On the spur of the moment I decide to climb up to the Lancaster Canal to see me through the city. Once out the other side into suburbs I leave the canal before its towpath deteriorates and follow new-found narrow lanes to Aldcliffe and then descend back down to the rail track taking me into Glasson.
It’s August Bank Holiday, but I’ve hardly seen a soul. Until now, the place is humming with motorcyclists and tourists around the harbour café. I make my way over to the other side of the dock to my favourite shop – coffee and cake, sat in the sunshine chatting to two ladies who have arrived on horseback. The sea lock gates still seem to be out of operation leaving the harbour unusually empty at low tide. The Port of Lancashire Smoke House still haven’t moved into their new premises. Things go at a slow pace in out of the way Glasson.
On the way in I had noticed a summer fête at the little canal side Christ Church. I remember getting some delicious homemade marmalade here a year or so ago. I make it my business to call in on the way back. Wheeling my bike between the stalls I find the jam table. I come away with two jars of thick Seville marmalade, made by Beryl as before the vicar tells me.
The railways and cycle way take me all the way back to the Crook of Lune. They are packing up at Halton, it has been a busy day on the Lune and the cycleways.
Time to visit my friends in nearby Over Kellet. John, an old climbing mate, has recently been in hospital with a bad heart. I go bearing marmalade. Tea and chat and it is getting late. Prewarned I drive down to the motorway bridge and see that the road is jammed solid going south. Time to find a quieter way home through the hills. Unfortunately my quick three point turnaround had me carelessly backing into a wall. A loud crash as the rear windscreen fell into the boot. Oh dear! I had badly dented the tailgate. I drive home in a more sombre mode and this morning spend an hour on the phone to my insurance company answering tedious questions and facing an expensive repair.