Author Archives: bowlandclimber

SOME FULWOOD WOODS.

David Attenborough has just told me and the rest of you on his latest TV documentary that the UK has the worst woodland density of any European country. That does not surprise me given our government’s rough shod treatment of our environment. They don’t even approve of Attenborough’s climate predictions. Who would you trust our natural treasures to – David or Sunak, Hunt, Coffey et al. We are woefully short of natural diversity and though it is small scale The Woodland Trust charity have something to offer on a local level and potentially a wider scale the more people know of them and their work. But how much more we need to do to re-establish our natural woodlands after years of local destruction for housing, transport, agriculture and sterile forestry plantations.

This was to be an afternoon of exploration which will be of little interest to most of you. Fulwood lies to the north of Preston hard by the M6. A land of suburbia, upmarket houses and expensive cars. And it is spreading fast to link up with Broughton and Cottam. New estates appear by the month and roads struggle to cope with the traffic. Alongside the motorway industrial units and office blocks use up most of the remaining land. So what is a ‘mountain man’ like me doing here? Well for a start mountains are off the agenda until hopefully the knee has improved. Secondly I noticed on a walk on the Preston Guild Wheel last week lots of tempting linear woodland walks. Most of them signed and presumably maintained by The Woodland Trust charity. A fellow blogger Clare highlighted some woods in the area a year ago, and I have to thank her for that. It lit a spark in me, and I am off to discover what has been hidden under my feet or wheels all those years.

A bit of research on The Woodlands Trust website showed an interactive map of all their woodlands. I focused in on the Fulwood ones.

Capturewoodland Trust

Armed with a sketch map I left Fulwood Row onto the Guild Wheel through Hindley Hill Woods. ( Fernyhalgh Woods according to the Woodland Trust Map, but let’s not quibble. On the east side of the Motorway alonside Savick Brook they are named Squire Anderton’s Woods. I traversed these on my Haighton walk last week) This is all familiar territory but once I crossed Longsands Lane I diverged from the GW north into Midgery Woods, crossing Savick Brook, and going uphill towards the constant drum of the motorway. The path goes alongside the motorway for 300 metres with expensive looking houses to its other side, they must be glad of the belt of trees to give them some insulation from the noise. One could carry on along here all the way to Moss Leach Woods, but I’d had enough of the noise so took a pleasanter path through trees over the roundabout and re-emerged back onto the GW at Midgery Lane. I followed the Wheel northwards until I came to the entrance to Moss Leach Woods on the right. I had a quick foray in the woods towards the motorway out of interest before continuing.

The Guild Wheel.

Savick Brook.

Heading to the Motorway.

On the map is marked Cromwell’s Mound in a field just off the Guild Wheel – I had never noticed it before. A public footpath crosses the field here just south of the mound which to my surprise was clearly visible, although I need a better photo. ‘Cromwell’s Mound fieldwork remains in good condition and is a rare example of a monument associated with the Second Civil War of 1648.’ For the full history behind this mound have a read here. The developers have encroached upon this historic site with the planning departments colluding.

A fuzzy Cromwell’s Mound.

I should have just carried on across the field but instead retraced my steps and followed a narrower path continuing in the Moss Leach woods by the stream. This was very muddy and came out at the same place as the Public Footpath – lesson learnt. I was now on the busy Eastway, again I could have gone straight across, but I wanted to look at the strip of woods heading south from the road just past the roundabout. Walking alongside this road is not pleasant. Thankfully the strip of woodland was signed, and I enjoyed a good stretch. I probably passed over the moat of the demolished Broughton Tower along there somewhere, another one to come back to. The path narrowed alongside houses, and then the way continued onto Tower Lane, showing cobbles in places near Tower Farm. This made up lane. now between upmarket properties, came to a T-junction. With the lack of knowledge of any other ways I turned left and soon reached Eastway again. I walked down the grass verge, there being no footway, until I reached the entrance to Mason’s Wood. Looking at the map I could have reached this point more easily from the Guild Wheel, cutting out the loop to Cromwell’s Mound. but that wasn’t the point today.

North end of what had been Tower Lane.

Tower Farm.

How much?

Eastway – best avoided.

Mason’s Wood was a gem. a deep wooded valley with the path winding along it. Little bridges lead to paths rising to the housing on the west bank, whilst hidden on the left was Preston Golf Club. This could become a favourite of mine. The wild garlic was just leafing up.

Entrance to Mason’s Wood.

DSC00388 (1) DSC00389 (1)

At the end a footbridge took me across Savick Brook and onto the edge of the smart looking golf course, complete with its usual warnings and arrows. But all went well until a muddy exit back onto Eastway which I then followed until Fulwood Hall Lane on the right. To escape from the busy road I ducked down here and found a path following Savick Brook upstream. I still had to cross and recross the busy roads again at the roundabout to continue upstream. That bit needs sorting out.

Savick Brook again.

Preston Golf course.

The light was fading, I hadn’t set off until 3pm due to faffing, so I increased my pace along the good path. This linear wood is called Sandybrook, another Woodland Trust site, and is three quarters of a mile long. (Header Photo of Sandybrook) All these hidden woods. It was only in this section, bordering onto the Brookfield estate that I encountered any serious litter. Most of the woods had been clear of rubbish and thankfully poo bags.

Entrance to Sandybrook.

At the end I emerged back onto Fulwood Row, the end of my walk, just as the rain started. Here were present day reminders of the natural habitats we must have lost whilst this area was being and still is being developed, but credit to The Woodland Trust for preserving some of these linear wild life spaces.

Extending Fulwood Row!

This is a fairly mundane write-up, out of necessity, to find, explore and possibly link up the various woods. There is so much green space hiding away from the busy roads in the area, Strangely I feel I have had a good ‘country’ walk today. What must it be like when the bluebells are out and the trees showing much more greenery? Already I can see how to tweak the route to avoid the dreaded Eastway, yet still experiencing the best bits. Today I walked about six miles, but I think an excellent route of about four miles avoiding roads would be possible. The green lungs of Fulwood. My convoluted route is shown on the map below, but I’m sure there will be more to come of these woodland walks in the heart of the city. (Is Fulwood in the city?)

The Woodland Trust site shows two more woods I didn’t or couldn’t incorporate into today’s walk. Asda Wood and Clough Copse. I will make a separate trip to these, and maybe incorporate a bit of shopping at Asda at the same time. Additionally, their website has some very good information on tree identification and other matters natural. Worth a visit and a donation at https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/

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CaptureFULWOOD

CANAL AND COASTAL CALM, UNTIL…

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What a relief to find Sir Hugh at home, I needed a cup of tea and a sit down. I had just struggled to finish a 25mile bike ride. As I left Morecambe along the old railway line I seemed to be tiring fast despite having eaten well. Cyclists seemed to flash past me, I made the excuse they must have electric assistance. I had just travelled through what I consider a dodgy section of the cycleway. A haunt of drug addicts and other undesirables. One had just tried to punch me as I passed, try ducking and slipping on a bike. He just missed, probably because he was drunk.

After a few more hundred yards I was coming to a standstill. Only then did I look at my back wheel – the tyre appeared awfully flat. I suspect I had ridden over some glass in that dodgy area. Five miles back to my car at Halton, should I just battle on. I did have a spare inner tube on me, but it would take quite a while to fix in these cold conditions, so I peddled on becoming slower and slower. At a bench entering the city I stopped – A. for a rest and B. to try and pump up the tyre. The former helped, but the latter lasted about 50 yards before I was reduced to a crawl again. Only three miles to go, so I got off and walked for long stretches The afternoon’s rain was coming in fast, so I remounted and pedalled as best I could to reach the car just as the down pour started. I was knackered and hence the need for a visit to Sir Hugh. I can sort out the puncture tomorrow at my leisure, why is it always the back wheel with all its complicated derailleur gears?

The day had started far more optimistically, cold but dry as I pedalled up onto the Lancaster Canal Aqueduct over the Lune. We have had some topsy-turvy weather this week. But now all was peace and quiet, even the dog walkers stopped and held their precious pouches until I had passed. Good progress was made along the towpath, here in reasonable repair – in contrast to that leaving Lancaster to the south, which can be a nightmare on a bike. My plan was to extend my usual route by cycling onwards to Carnforth. I love this elevated stretch above Hest Bank and Bolton-le-Sands with views down to the coast. Carnforth was busy with a market in progress. My route took me past the infamous station, the last time I visited it for a ‘brief encounter’ in June ’22 I ended up with Covid. I hesitated before repeating the process but the thought of coffee and cake was too much. I had awoken this morning to find I had no bread or little else to concoct a sandwich. All was cheery and friendly in the 1940s café – a good latte with a slice of iced flapjack did the trick.

Lancaster Canal Aqueduct over the Lune.

Sailing high above Hest Bank.

Woodland approaching Carnforth.

Brief Encounter.

Refreshed I continued alongside the River Keer, under the threatening Main Quarry on Warton Fell. Deceptive bends and plastic icebergs re-emerge into my conscience, it was always a frightening place to climb. Onwards without destroying the peace.

Warton Crag and quarry across the marshes

Soon I was back on the canal, reversing my morning’s route. If only I had just ridden back along it to Lancaster. Bur no, I could not resist turning off at Hest Bank to cruise down to the promenade and follow the Bay into Morecambe. It’s becoming a habit. The tide was out and one could hardly make out the sea. It’s different every time I come along here, that’s the charm of Morecambe’s seafront. I sat on a bench looking out across the bay.

Bench on the bay.

Morecambe’s cormorants.

Low tide walk about.

Then all my troubles started.

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CaptureCarnforth.

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As a footnote I have to thank Sir Hugh for his hospitality at short notice. A few of you I know follow his blog and will be aware of is modelling skills. Well here is the professor in his modelling den.

HAIGHTON VARIATIONS IN TURN.

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An urban rural walk.

Call me a wimp or whatever, but I’m keeping my walks to lowland lanes at the moment. Good surfaces and a modest distance. I’m rather pleased I didn’t cycle today as to start there was a fresh wind which seemed much stronger than the forecast suggested.

Haighton is a scattered farming community to the east of the M6 between Fulwood,Preston and Grimsargh. Possibly best known for the C17 Haighton Manor, a well respected and longstanding dining establishment. I have included walks through Haighton in the past here and here and briefly here.

Coincidentally these other variations were all walked in the early quiet Spring months, as of now. “For everything there is a season” Ecclesiastes 3:1-8. A time, add another turn for Haighton. Also, time for a tune, a bit of optimism doesn’t go amiss at present. I remember hearing many other artists covering this song during the 60s live folk scene in London.

A good reason to repeat parts of those walks today is that Haighton Green Lane was closed to through traffic due to new gas mains being installed. It is normally a busy rat run route in and out of north Preston with speeding motorists, not the safest of pedestrian routes.

I find a small parking space at the bottom end of Cow Hill and stroll down the hill to cross Londonderry Bridge over Savick Brook which winds its way down from Longridge. Ahead are the gates and security cameras of Haighton House, once the residence of David Moyes when he managed Preston and then Everton. I slip up a narrow bridleway alongside the noisy kennels and climb into the woods.

At the top was always a gate securely guarded by a fierce mastiff. The PROW went through the farmyard, but he ensured that one followed the ‘illegal’ diversion around buildings. But today the gate is open with no sign, hopefully, of the dog, but I still take the long route just to be sure. The amount of accumulated waste building materials dumped alongside the rural lane farther on has grown since I was last along.

I come out onto Haighton Green Lane at the top. It is indeed closed to traffic but being a Sunday no work is taking place, (no wonder road schemes go on for months – one would think that if a closure was in place the contractors should work at full pace) Despite the narrow route some drivers try to squeeze through only to back up when they meet another vehicle. On the whole though the lane is peace and quiet.

I’m tempted to go off down Fernyhalgh Lane past the old school (where my children started) the church and Ladywell Shrine, a shortcut back to Savick Brook. But no, I need the mileage and the day is fine, so I continue on the road whilst it is virtually traffic free. There are some fine houses along here as well as the original farms.

Crossing the M6 motorway I stop to watch the southbound lanes coming to a standstill., a well-known black spot. Preston Bypass, as it was known then in 1958, was the first motorway to open in the UK. Since those days it has been incorporated into the M6 with new junctions and carriageways. I try to avoid driving on busy motorways with their frequent hold-ups and after my frightening experience of breaking down last year on a ‘smart’ section of motorway that has been reinforced.

By now we are now on the edge of the countryside. Housing developments are met, creeping out of Preston along the once country road on both sides. I am no stranger to these as they are also engulfing the Preston Guild Wheel cycle route which I now turn onto. I slip past industrial units, smart new office blocks and the back of an Asda superstore. But it is traffic free and not so bad. Lots of people use these stretches for recreation, strolling, dog walking and cycling. Walking today instead of my usual cycling I notice more connecting footpaths going off in all directions and stretches of linear woodlands inviting investigation, many signed by that admirable charity The Woodland Trust. That gives me an idea for a time researching them and a day of exploration and maybe linking them together. When I think back I seem to member Clare of Dreams and Adventures at Cosy Cottage writing about them during lockdown.

The section of the Guild Wheel through Hindley Hill Woods above Savick Brook is always a delight and I turn off onto Fernyhalgh Lane, though I notice more woodland paths on the north side of the Brook I could have used.

Now back under the motorway, at the bridge I don’t climb to Ladywell shrine but take the road into the grounds of Haighton House. A lovely stretch through the well-kept estate alongside the river. Then a more wild stretch above the convoluted water, an Ox-Bow Lake is obvious and soon there will be more, even the path has been washed away here.

I’m soon back at Cow Hill and a climb up the lane to my car.

The temperature had by now slowly nudged into double figures and I felt decidedly overdressed, but I’m not going to complain. It was still only noon when I arrived back home, so I had time for a short bouldering session up at Craig y. I was the only one there, I wonder why, after the crowds last Sunday. Compare and contrast,as my art teacher used to say.

This Sunday.

Last Sunday.

Variety is the spice of life.

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tempsniphaighton

IN LIKE A LION…

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This week I have been alternating short walks and flat cycle rides with nothing of note to report. Everything came to a standstill yesterday with the collision of cold winds from the north with a front from the south. Amber warning. My son cancelled a lunchtime visit from Manchester and I watched the snowflakes falling in the afternoon. During the night things must have turned nasty as today I woke to a couple of inches of snow. (The radio told of far worse conditions in the Pennines) It was interesting to try and identify the tracks across my back garden, one doesn’t know what transpires in the night. Something I should resolve either with sitting up into the wee hours or more likely installing a motion detecting camera.

By mid-morning the sun had appeared and traffic started using my road. Time to get out and about. The tossed coin said walk. So I did. A brand-new pair of lightweight boots had arrived in the post. Helly Hansen and looking perfect for summer walking – right let’s try them out in some snow. Living in Longridge I am lucky to be able to walk from my doorstep into the open countryside or as I did today up onto the fell. The route on roads was one of my regular runs way back then. I knew it would give me good Bowland views with the minimum of hassle.

Once out of the village ‘Forty Acre Lane’ gave me those promised views. I’m not sure which side the ‘forty acres’ are on but never mind the vista across Chipping Vale to the hills is uplifting. The snow on the south slopes was visibly melting as I walked but showed up the features of the Parlick, Fairsnape and Totridge Fells in great detail. Virtually no cars passed me, the road was just thawing enough for them. There were still drifts in the gateways. The golf course was closed, perhaps prematurely as the afternoon was perfect.

The usual crowd of cars was parked up at Jeffrey Hill. From up here the northern slopes of Pendle Hill were plastered with snow – they usually have it worse in East Lancashire. I was in two minds to take to the fells with the rest of them and visit Spire Hill, instead keeping to the road but no sooner had I decided this I was tempted off into Cowley Brook Plantation. My favourite getaway place. It was a joy to tread virgin snow through the trees. Silence was everywhere except for those little birds singing unseen.

Back out on the lower road I trudged back along the switchbacks to Longridge as the temperature started to fall again. The roadside gorse was a brilliant yellow.

How good that sunshine must have done for my endomorphins.

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CaptureLongifdge fell

A NEW SEASON?

MORE MORECAMBE.

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You may wonder why I keep coming back to the Bay. My cycling is for leisure and pleasure these days, and there is no pleasure on the busy roads around Longridge. The old railways, cycleways and canal up here are ideal and one has the added benefit of the ocean breeze and those views across the bay. Oh, and it’s all relatively flat.

I suspect that sometimes I am bewitched by that view and neglect little details on the promenade. Well today I paid more attention to what was under my feet, I mean wheels, and I ended up walking stretches of the front so as not to miss things. I had arrived onto the front near Heysham via a new route, for me, which diverged off the old railway/cycleway and wound its way through the White Lund Industrial Estate, lovely.

From the start at Sandylands I notice several, about three dozen, round interpretative discs set into the promenade telling the story of Heysham, Morecambe and the Bay. A quirky addition to the front. For a more detailed history and lots of old photographs and archive material it is worth visiting the Maritime Museum on the quayside in Lancaster. Morecambe has certainly had a chequered history – but the future with The Eden Project hopefully under way should be more positive. It is frightening to realise that I am part of that recent history, bringing my family up to the amusement parks and aquarium still in existence 50 years ago and now no longer. I try to remember if the central pier, mentioned more than once in the discs, was still standing on our visits. It is suspicious that there were so many fires on the derelict piers.

Morecambe in the 1940s. The two piers highlighted.

So there you have it. On the way I passed this house painting, an old pier/breaker, a couple of turrets and these elegant Edwardian terraces. Fading glories.

As I approached the west end of Morecambe I was intrigued by a large building set back from the front. The building now known as The Battery once marked the boundary between Morecambe and Heysham. (in 1928 the two districts merged). In the nineteenth century the site was occupied by an old mill and the area was later used as a firing range, with an artillery battery stationed there because of fear of an invasion by the French. The mill, then known as The Roundhouse, was used for storing ammunition. The Battery Inn was built in 1863 and in 1900 it expanded to become The Battery Hotel, later acquired by Thwaites Brewery and functioned into the 1980s. It has recently been bought by a property developer for conversion into luxury flats. I’m not sure whether much progress has been made.

I don’t think the adjacent Beach Cafe is the best of architectural designs.

My informative circles had finished, but something on the road caught my eye – half a car to cut your motoring costs, an effective advertising gimmick.

And what’s more on the other side of the road a series of artistic panels brightening up an otherwise drab development hoarding at the former Frontier Land. I now remember Eunice from the Mouse House mentioning them here and here in far more detail than my pictures below. Local artists are highlighted. Several showing Eric the town’s celebrated son.

I hope the Midland Hotel is given anew coat of paint before Eden arrives.

By now my hands were frozen in the cold northerly wind whipping down the promenade. Time to get cycling again. On past the Midland, Happy Mount Park, Hest Bank and onto the Lancaster Canal back to Lancaster. I had just about warmed through by the time I reached my car at Halton. It’s only half an hour back down the motorway, but I have a sense of lingering guilt that I shouldn’t be driving farther than I’m cycling.

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CaptureMorecambe

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.

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.

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.

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.

4 Replies

I 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.

Is that a Kestrel in the tree?

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.

I 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”

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.

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.

Not bad for a local walk of 5 miles.

Capturethornley

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.

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.

A drift of snowdrops.

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.

A mob of lambs.

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.

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.

Coral reefs ahead.

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.

Dinkling Green

The green side of Bowland.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Bank’s Well.

Dogslack Well.

Walkers’ traffic lights. Cross at green.

C15th Arnside Tower.

Well hidden Elmslack Well.

The muddy cove – go back, go back.

The more evident Woodwell.

This way, honest.

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.

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.

20230209_191937

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.

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.

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.

The peaceful winter promenade.

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

The tower silently watching.

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.

What’s for supper?

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

CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – THE UPPER WYRES.

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Down 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.

***

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

Gated entrance to the Duke’s Abbeystead House.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

***

CaptureWyre Way

THE BAY.

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Following 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.

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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.

***

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 18^th 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.

***

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…

grouse

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.

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’.

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.

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.

The path disappears…

… before dropping into Littledale.

The infant Conder.

Back up again.

I told you it was ugly.

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

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.

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.

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

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‘.

LONGRIDGE FELL – THE EASY WAY.

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Ignoring the title of my last post I’m up here again, doing it the easy way from Cardwell House , on Jeffrey Hill. And definitely staying out of the trees this time.

All part of my irregular three-mile litter picking circuit. I have been a bit lax recently and not kept up to my original monthly round. But no matter, the plethora of the Covid lock-down years has passed. There is room to park, though there are few takers this misty damp afternoon. There are always good pickings in the first hundred yards or so. I ignore the underpants in the car park and concentrate on the dog poo bags, a record today of 13, 10 of them full. The only person I meet is a dog walker, hopefully a responsible one as I bite my tongue and don’t grumble about the mess. By the way green doggy bags are no more environmentally friendlier than black ones – take them home, please. Rant over.

I keep to my plan – up to the summit, good pickings here as usual, cross over and come back down alongside the wall to the road. Cola cans outnumber Lucozade, for a change. The odd glove or hat, a helium balloon, Cadbury’s chocolate the favourite. One glass beer bottle.

I hope that if the fell looks clean people will be less inclined to drop their rubbish. Is there any evidence for this? This is my bit of fell after all, not that I want you to think I’m over obsessive about its cleanliness. (can you be over obsessive?) Once on the short stretch of road there is more to contend with. Some I will leave for the ‘council’ to deal with. Was it part of an organised litter pickup to be collected later or more likely a deliberate drive out and dump mentality? I’d better just stick to the fell.

By the time I was back at the car my bag was overflowing and feeling decidedly heavy. Job done.

“What do you think of it so far?” was one of Eric Morecambe’s catchphrases – and the reply from somewhere offstage – RUBBISH.

CICERONE’S LANCASHIRE – LONGRIDGE FELL NEVER EASY.

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Up on Longridge Fell we were doing OK until the guide, walk no 23 of Mark Sutcliffe’s book, said to take a jink right in the trees. We already had jinked right awhile back as the fallen trees from last year’s storm Eunice?, blocked our tracks. But others had come this way recently, in fact quite a path had developed. We bushwhacked on. For once, I wasn’t the leader, Phreerunner was running but not as phree as he thought.

When Martin (aka Phreerunner) had included in his Friday walks Longridge Fell I couldn’t refuse to accompany him. I secretly knew the problems ahead but didn’t want to spoil the fun, it’s not Cicerones fault. I thought it a good idea to bring JD into the mix for some local support.

We had left Hurst Green alongside the delightful Dean Brook with its bobbin making history. The stream bed was carved by the water into Daliesque shapes. Resisting the urge to take another photo of Greengore we move on and across fields I don’t usually travel. Lanes and then a boggy path brought us out onto the top ridge where a simple stroll led to the summit trig point, 350 m. The light on the Bowland Hills was flitting from one area to another, but the three peaks never put in a show. Time for coffee and snacks.

Shireburn Alms Houses.

The onward path disappears into a dark plantation, and already we start meeting obstructions. When I was up here early last year I found it impossible to make safe progress. It was slightly better today as Martin forged forward bent double to avoid the branches. We made it through to more open ground and then found with the use of our phones a path going in the right direction. It is fairly chaotic up here at present, a shame that the forestry workers can’t spare a day with a couple of chain saws to clear a way.

As we left Hurst Green earlier this morning we passed the Shireburn Alms Houses and I related as to how they were originally built higher up on the fell in the earlyC18th and subsequently moved stone by stone down into the village around 1946. Well now we were above their original site on the fell next to the ‘blue lagoon’ reservoir. It wasn’t blue today in the rather dull conditions. The foundations can still be seen if one looks around, we didn’t.

Across the road, over a wall and down some fields, the directions lacked clarity here. We ended up in someone’s garden with a couple of wild eyed dogs snapping at our heels. We escaped and found our way down a ravine, the correct stile now visible behind us. It always amazes me, and I’ve said it too many times, that landowners don’t put signage up through their property and maintain the stiles – it’s not asking too much. If you buy a country property you will be well aware of any rights of way coming through it. Time to start issuing fines, I know that will never happen.

We skirted around Stoneyhurst School, admiring the architecture and the long stately drive. I think this was all new for Martin, and I shall be interested in his write-up for the walk on his blog. Soup and rolls back at Chez BC completed an excellent ‘Friday Walk’ May meet up again when he moves his troops to Silverdale in a couple of weeks time, or should I make the effort and travel down to Cheshire for somewhere new?

I didn’t take many photos, it was all too familiar, or so I thought, and we were busy chatting. There is a better report here.

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tempsniphurst green

PRESTON GUILD WHEEL, MISCELLANEA.

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Henry II granted Preston the right to have a Guild Merchant controlling trade in the town. That was back in 1179. Holding the Guild every 20 years probably started in 1542, membership would only change every other generation. Bringing together the town’s merchants, craftsmen and traders led to pageantry, feasting and processions. Six centuries later Preston still celebrates the Guild (though there has been free trade since 1790) every 20 years.

There is a local saying “once in a Preston Guild” due to the 20 years gap – the equivalent of “once in a blue moon”. We like to be different up here.

The last Guild was 2012 and to celebrate it Preston and Lancashire County Councils devised this 21mile ‘green route’ circling the city nearly all off-road. It was opened in August 2012, and though not as green as it used to be is a lasting legacy to the city and its Guild celebrations. LCC has devised an auditory commentary by scanning the QR codes attached to the mile markers. I must get round to trying them.

Known locally simply as The Guild Wheel, GW, it also has a Sustrans cycling route number – 622.

CaptureGuild Wheel

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I haven’t been on the Guild Wheel since last September’s aborted ride. Let’s see what today brings.

I get off to walk the steep track down Red Scar into Brockholes Nature Reserve. I’ve had enough mishaps recently, I don’t want to tempt fate, who is on strike today? Maybe the Nurses or the Ambulances. Better safe than sorry or worse.

Without binoculars, it is pointless to stop off at the bird hides, though I do recognise some swans from a distance.

The ride alongside the Ribble is the greenest section of the GW and whilst the sun was shining the river took on a liquid silver appearance.

The route brings you right into the heart of the city where the Old Tram Bridge linked Penwortham to Avenham Park. It was built originally by the Lancaster Canal Company in 1802 to link the Leeds Liverpool canal system to the isolated Lancaster Canal using carts to transport the commodities. The arrival of the railways led to the closure of the tramway in 1858. Recent inspections of the bridge have shown it to be on the verge of collapse, and it was closed for good in 2019. There has been a strong local campaign for some sort of restoration, both from a historical view and more importantly as a leisure facility, it being a popular pedestrian crossing of the Ribble in the city. Costings were proving prohibitive but then along comes ‘levelling up’ and Preston has received a £20 million grant from the government. Good news, going hand in hand with Eden Project I mentioned in my last post.

Avenham and Miller Parks are looking splendid. Proud Preston.

It’s 21 miles whichever way you choose to go.

Alongside the GW they are raising the river defences in Broadgate, the work is taking two years and already is causing traffic chaos at that end of the city.

‘Ullo John! Gotta New Motor?

Once I’m past the city of cars I’m on a new piece of tarmac alongside the junction with the Western Distributor Road system, it will soon be open. The GW then goes under the new bridge spanning the Ribble Link Canal.

Western Distributor links, that’s Longridge Fell in the background.

I call in as usual at my favourite café on the GW, the Final Whistle, in the grounds of the university sports fields. Toasted teacake and a coffee £2.95. Whenever I have a toasted tea cake I’m reminded of my sadly departed mate, big Tony, who couldn’t start a day’s climbing without his toasted tea cake and a pot of tea. We had a list of cafés throughout the north-west serving this delicacy. Great times.

A robin is always on hand to help clear up the crumbs.

Nothing much else to report, the housing estates are still proliferating on every space i the Cottam area eating up the green spaces, but what about these catkins in the sunshine – a harbinger of better days to come.