Tag Archives: Two-day walks.

A WHITTLE WANDER. Part one.

Whittle-le-Woods to Hoghton.

I came across the Whittle Wander on the LDWA excellent website. I was looking for a short, long-distance way to get me back into the swing of things. It turns out to be a 16-mile circuit from Whittle-le-Woods “that takes in the canal, the river, and the beautiful countryside of the West Pennine Moors, reaching the Darwen Valley”. The author, Trevor Headley, a specialist in this area, has several publications. I previously walked his East side of the Ribble Valley. which was well thought out and an enjoyable route. I struggled to get Headley’s contact details to order his guide for the Whittle Wander, so I had to be content with an outline map, which I plotted onto my paper maps. Awkwardly across three 1:25,000 sheets. Incidentally, the route is not waymarked.

Thus armed, I set off on the bus to Preston, then continued on to Whittle-le -Woods. I alight at the church on the main road, and there, right next to the bus stop, is a signed footpath. The map suggests a path going between houses, so I start confidently.

The path has the impression of antiquity, possibly the route to and from the church. I pass the Parish Club. Originally a Methodist Chapel completed in 1840. Then, in 1897, when the current Methodist Chapel was built on the A6, the building became the Parish Club until 1911, when it became ‘Whittle Pictures’ and subsequently a thriving factory. It is now repurposed once again as a community centre.

Across Chorley Old Road, once the coach route to Preston, the path runs through open countryside. Further on, there are notice boards telling of its history and recent attempts to preserve it, an old way between Leyland and Brindle.

At its end, my map appears to show a footpath that runs right before ducking under the motorway. It doesn’t feel right, little used and overgrown. Himalayan Balsam is taking over. There is no obvious turning towards the motorway, and soon I’m heading in the wrong direction. A quick turnaround, still no sign of a motorway underpass. Is my map reading at fault, or is there really no path?

A closer look at the map later shows there was no way.

I head back to the cottages. at Hill Foot Farm…

…and use the road to Whittle Hills, another character house.

Then, according to my map, a farm track to North Bank Farm. Even here, the signing is confusing. I want the higher of the two motorway underpasses, A on the above map, so, ignoring the signs, I brave the farmyard and walk out at last; it seems to have taken an age to reach the other side of the motorway.

Under the motorway.

You may wonder why I have been so fixated on the map features and Rights of Way on this walk. Well, I’m into week 26 of my 52 Ways to Walk, at the longest day, – Walk with a map. I’ve been walking with a map all my life, only recently using phone OS mapping. So today I am relying completely on my paper copy of the 1:25,000 map, my phone consigned to the interior of my rucksack. I think I have an innate sense of direction, so I don’t need my compass to orientate me, it’s safely in the rucksack too, you never know. One has to constantly maintain a greater awareness of one’s surroundings, near and far, to correlate with the paper map, spotting features and signs to fix one’s position at any one time. I was lost earlier because I had misread the map – there was no continuation under the motorway from the first path.

The footpath now goes through fields, thankfully recently mown, and over some hidden stiles to emerge onto a minor road.

Right in front is the track heading up the field towards Denham Hall, now all plain sailing and a joy to be out in the countryside.

More fields take me to Walmsley Fold, busy with modern machinery.’ Fold is a common name on the map in these parts, originally an animal enclosure which grew into a farm or small community.

A quiet road reached Top o’th Lane, a row of cottages originally built around 1800 for quarry and handloom workers. The loom room windows in the basements. They have a fine view across to Great Hill and the western Lancashire Pennines.

It’s good to be up high looking out over Preston, the Bowland Hills and Pendle,

But then I find myself in a large field full of frisky cows paying me too much close attention, not so pleasant. I back off carefully until I can escape via a stile into Brindle village.

I wander into St. James’ church. Its tower is from about 1500, the naive C19th, with many changes over the years; Paley was involved, as usual. I am immediately struck by the amount of stained glass. Every wall has large windows.

On the edge of the village is the Old Smithy and next to it the Parish Pound. I’m sure there is more to explore in the village, but it is time to get going; the day is heating up. Heading towards Hoghton Tower, which can be seen on its hill in the distance. I navigate through fields and country lanes, possibly using my own variation of the Whittle Wander.

I come out onto the main road at Riley Green, next to the Royal Oak.

I could finish here, but I want to complete the loop around Hoghton Tower and the River Darwen. I have described this in more detail when I last visited here on a similar walk. I’ll make do with a few pictures today.

Whilst I am taking the photo of the Giant Hogweed, a Kingfisher flashes by – wow.

And then I’m back at the Royal Oak for a quick half before catching the bus back to Preston.

The Whittle Wander wanders off back to the start via Wheelton and places, but I’m leaving that half for another day, hopefully it will be as interesting as today’s walk. Won’t be just yet, though, as the heatwave settles in.

***

THE SEFTON COASTAL PATH. Formby to Crossens.

2 Replies

I’m the only person on the beach and I can hear music across the dunes, yes that is the ‘Last Post’ being played and I realise it is the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month. What a place I’d found to quietly contemplate. Of course 2018 is 100 years since the end of WW1 and special events are being held, on the train this morning were army cadets off to one. I didn’t know at this time that back on Formby beach the face of one of the fallen soldiers was being temporally created in the sands. I’d arrived onto the southern end of Southport beach to escape the busy road I’d found myself walking on, another example of the present deficits of the Sefton Coastal Path.

An early start from my airbnb and I was back at Freshfield station and walking through the golf course which was already busy. In Ainsdale Dunes I followed the SCP as marked on my leaflet. This started really well through the woodland, no Red squirrels, and the undulating track was popular with dog walkers, runners and cyclists. The rain started heavily just as I emerged from the tree cover onto a less pleasant track so finding a marked trail leading back into the dunes and trees I blindly followed thinking it would take me back to the coast so I could avoid the busy coast road.

There were enticing tracks everywhere in this attractive wilderness and I somehow arrived at the depot of Natural England who care for the area. Sheltering under a store for a snack gave me time to speak to one of the wardens who admitted that it is a well kept secret. He pointed me on a way to the coast and I was back in the expansive dunes. Walking was not easy once the path was lost. As I headed for the coast I could see Pontins Holiday Camp looming in front of me and made the mistake of avoiding it on the right which had me alongside that busy road.

Simple but very effective stile on NE Reserve.

I don’t want to be here…

… or here.

After the dismal looking Pontins I continued for 2 miles up the lonely beach towards the pier and then began to worry about getting back to solid land before the tide turned, there seemed to be a lot of marshy grassland to cross. What followed was not pleasant, 300m of bog hopping with some sizeable channels amongst the reeds, more serious than I thought. Time for a sit down and a sandwich – phew. Across the bay was Blackpool and Lytham, I’m just glad I won’t be attempting any more of the coast – too many inlets to negotiate. By now the tide had come right in to the sea wall and the sun had come out.

What’s the history of this case?

Here is the start of the Trans Pennine Cycling Trail and there were sculptures to mark it. Seaside resorts look empty in the winter but the boating lake was busy. An easy stretch along the promenade was marred by the constant traffic.

Start of the Trans Pennine Trail.

At the first opportunity I took a side road which gave access to a lovely footpath across a golf course and then into the RSPB’s Marshside Reserves. The afternoon was sunny by now and the paths were popular with locals and their dogs. On my right was a housing estate and on the left the marshy reserves with lots of distant bird life but without binoculars identification becomes guesswork. Ahead I could see the distant Bowland Fells which appeared giants in the clear sky. At the end a walk alongside a Ribble Estuary drainage channel brought me conveniently to my bus stop home.

Sefton Coastal Walk has been mixed with plenty of highlights and quite a few lows. Some of the latter were unavoidable and some were my mistake, a decent map would help as would waymarking through the forests and dunes, and local knowledge of the beaches and tides. I suspect it was designed by committee rather than enthusiastic walkers. Nonetheless a decent 23 mile walk fortunately blessed with decent weather.

*****

THE SEFTON COASTAL PATH. Waterloo to Formby.

4 Replies

At only 21 miles long The Sefton Coastal Path hardly qualifies for a long distance walk category. In the past I would have happily seen this as a one day challenge, but in my maturity I’m happy to take a couple of leisurely days over it – one of my two-day classics. [must link in the numerous others]

I’m setting off again without a map but I’ve a decent leaflet from Sefton Council which should see me through. I met my Waterloo at the bus stop and walked down to the beach to be alarmed by the sight of men standing up to their necks in the water. And there more some on the beach and others with their heads disappearing under the waves. In fact there were a hundred [I didn’t count them] all part of Anthony Gormley’s installation of ‘Another Place’. A brave man to depict all those identical nude images of himself. Not being one who is comfortable in water I found the statues disturbing, I am not in the best of places.

In the background were the industrial cranes of Liverpool, or more precisely Bootle, Docks and a constant stream of boats being escorted up the Mersey. A cold wind from the south was behind me as I marched along the beach and then the prom with all the dogs and their ‘masters’.

Once out of Crosby the path headed off across dunes but all was not as it should be – the edge of the coast was eroding away and exposing building rubble not sand. The local coast guard out on patrol explained that postwar the debris of the heavy bombing of the city was dumped here to help shore up the sea defences and now those weathered bricks were resurfacing. What a history they must have.

I blindly followed the surfaced track which took me inland to Hightown, there had been no waymarking as such and I realised I was following a cycle route. I could have continued along the coast for more pleasant walking and this slowly dawned on me as I progressed over the two days. I might as well say it now The Sefton Coastal Path as promoted is a rather boring cycle route and a far better walking route could be devised, I made it up as I went along with varying degrees of success. So that is why I was walking through a housing estate trying to see the coast. At the first opportunity I turned west and for a while walked alongside the Alt River but red flags were flying with a lot of gunfire. It didn’t need much persuading to walk around the perimeter of Altcar Training Camp. The next fenced in stretch by the railway was uninspiring with explosions to my left and emptiness to my right, I felt isolated and vulnerable.

As soon as I could I escaped out onto the Formby dunes, there were paths everywhere and I ended up on one going to the Devil’s Hole, an extensive crater in the dunes thought to have been started by a wayward German bomb and carved out over the years by the wind, the largest ‘blow out’ in Britain. Coming through the dunes I was onto the beach with views back to Liverpool Docks, across to Wales and Anglesey, and out to wind turbines in the open sea, the whole creating a sense of immense space.

The sense of space was enhanced as the tide was way out with an extensive stretch of sand in front of me and I was able to walk three miles up the beach. At the high tide mark were thousand of empty Razor Clams apparently washed ashore in recent high winds, crunchy walking.

Most of the time I had the beach to myself but there was always a gaggle of people and dogs where a path through the dunes led to a car park. Yes that is Blackpool Tower in the distance. The low light was constantly changing as clouds drifted across the sun.It was time for a spot of dune walking on the edge of the pine forests famous for their Red Squirrel population. I found a maze of paths, didn’t see a squirrel and eventually followed a route inland through the mixed woods and across a golf course to Freshfield station as darkness was approaching.