Around Britain

This was a relatively idle day. I bought the papers and read them over breakfast. Then I took them to Costas and, over a large Latte, read them a bit more. I didn't set off from Carlisle until 11.30 a.m. as my next hotel, just beyond Wigton, was less than 15 miles away.

Carlisle is a big city and it took a while before I was able to leave the houses behind me. Then I was in open country passing through hamlets such as Sceughmire, Woodhams, Thornby and Moorhouse. I only stopped once in a field with a view towards the Lakeland hills. I lay down, drank some water and ate some dates. This idyll was abruptly interrupted when a tractor entered the field just beside me dragging a tank. No doubt the driver intended to spread the contents of the tank over the field so I made a rapid departure.

Wigton has a station and several shops. I had to walk right through it and out the other side to reach my hotel on a Roman Road, now the A596. I walked warily on a narrow verge as the traffic sped by.

Distance today 14.69 miles; total 2504.54.

As soon as I left my hotel I was facing the furious traffic again. There was no alternative until I reached a farm road to Red Hall which gave me access to a minor road. A notice at the entrance said 'Thieves beware'. I encountered a car driven by a young man, presumably from Red Hall. He stopped but seemed quickly satisfied that I had no malign intentions. By way of Woodrow, a small hamlet, I reached the A596, slightly less busy than the A595. After a brief session on the verge I reached the road to Westnewton. I had high hopes of a cafe and/or shop at that village which had a church and a pre-primary school. The pub shown on my map had, it seemed, closed down. There were many houses but no other services. I took a swig from my water bottle and a few dates before pressing on to the coast and Allonby. Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins had stayed there in the 1850s. A small shop sold souvenirs, fizzy drinks and ice cream.

I joined the English Coastal Path and turned south towards Maryport, five miles further on. The coastal path had suffered damage so I was diverted onto the Hadrian Cycleway (174 miles from Ravenglass, further down the Cumbrian coast, to Wallsend, beyond Newcastle on the east coast). I was on the frontier of the Roman Empire. There had been small forts every mile along this coast. The ruins of Fortlet No. 21 were a reminder of this. As I entered the Maryport I was on the site of Alauna Fort which could accommodate 1000 soldiers. Everything above ground was later removed by the townsfolk as building material.

Maryport has a harbour which had its heyday in the mid 19th century. This area had the first railway for public use in 1841

Distance today 17.5 miles; total 2522.04

My first setback on this trip was before I'd even started walking. I'd left behind my maps, the hotel booking details and my mileage chart. My wife was able to send everything to my phone and hard copies to the hotel where I was to spend my second night.

Northern Rail guards were on strike this week on alternate days, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. It's fortunate for me that I'd planned to use the service round the Cumbrian coast on Wednesday and Sunday.

I travelled up from London in the morning and walked out of Maryport on the England Coastal Path (ECP) early in the afternoon. Before Flimby a notice diverted me to Cycle Path 72. When I rejoined the ECP I had to do stretches on a sandy beach. I was walking between the sea and the railway. I was slightly concerned that a waterway might block my progress and enforce my return to a point where I could cross the railway onto the road. A man reassured me that I'd be able to get through to Workington.

In Workington Station I sought directions to my hotel. A man overheard me and told me the way. He then offered to give me a lift to the hotel. I'd never accepted a lift on this journey before but I thought it a bit rude to refuse. I was walking back to the station next morning so I'd be covering all the ground on foot. The man was a chemistry lecturer and we had a pleasant chat.

Mileage today 6.17; total 2528.21

My hotel, the Sleepwell Inn, seemed to be no more than a number of en-suite rooms situated around an unmanned lobby. All the usual services, including reception and restaurant, were provided by a larger hotel nearby. It seemed to work well. Is this a new trend in hotels?

In perfect weather I started at 8.50 a.m. There were many signs of commercial activity as the ECP passed to one side of an industrial estate. I walked past a single medium sized industrial shed development. There were workers on site and it was good to see that there was some investment.

I reached Harrington about 4 miles south of Workington where there was a harbour. On my way out of the town, I failed three times to pick up the ECP. An ECP finger post directed me to a wind turbine park on the wrong side of the railway. The only way forward was over a rocky beach and then cliffs so I had to turn back. Although the ECP directions were poor, my own stupidity was largely to blame. Also I was adjusting too slowly to having the O.S. Maps on my phone. When at last I found the ECP, high up on the hillside above the railway, I made good progress towards Whitehaven. Just before the village of Parton, I fell into conversation with a man reading an information board. The small print was a struggle for me so I asked him whether it said anything of interest. He told me that a German U-boat had shelled a chemical factory near Parton in WWI. A quick-thinking factory hand had set fire to some tar. This satisfied the Germans that they'd done serious damage to the factory so they switched fire to the village itself. The only casualty was a dog for which a memorial was erected.

I walked straight through the substantial town of Whitehaven and headed for St Bees on a back road. Wainwright's 192 mile Coast to Coast starts near St Bees. The village has a school founded by the then Archbishop of Canterbury in 1583 and housed in a handsome building. The school closed in 2015 due to falling numbers and high fees but there's a plan to re-open it this coming September. A Chinese Educational Foundation is involved in its revival.

Whilst in St Bees I encountered a blind man with a long white stick. He was tapping houses and cars to help him on his way. We were in a confined space on the pavement so I asked him whether he was OK. He hadn't been aware of my presence so I gave him a shock. We enjoyed a brief chat and then he told me he had to be on his way 'before it became too busy.”

I left St Bees on a back road, hardly used, just on the landward side of the railway. It took me through Nethertown, Braystones and Beckermet. Cyclists started coming through in numbers on the Hadrian Cycleway. The cyclists cycled separately as if they were participating in a time trial with each rider on a different start time. By now the Sellafield complex was in full view. A notice said “Armed police patrol this area at unpredictable times.”

The nuclear site was protected by a high wire fence with coiled barbed wire on the top and what looked like an electrified fence on the far side. My foot brushed against a small plaque partly covered by grass. It commemorated the “victims” of the Reactor fire in 1957. I was aware of problems at Sellafield over the years but I didn't remember this. Sellafield is a major employer in the area. I spoke to two local people about it. Neither of them thought that anyone had been killed in the fire. One said the situation had been critical with the real risk of an explosion.

I walked past the site on the seaward side and reached my hotel in Seascale. Miles walked today 21.01; total 2549.22.

The day started well. I had a good conversation with the father of the proprietor of my hotel. He was a retired farmer with two sons. The other son managed the farm. Two previous owners of the hotel had failed but the father believed his son was making a go of it. Certainly he had a good chef.

I started at 9 a.m. in fine weather. The first place I came to was Drigg where I identified the LLW Repository as the place where the low level waste from Sellafield was stored. I'd learnt that the rest of the waste was too dangerous for storage there so that was kept on site. I also learnt that there's a tower at Sellafield which is a relic of the 1957 Reactor fire. This needs to be kept just as it is.

I continued beyond Drigg on back roads. These might serve just a couple of farms so were little used. On a long straight stretch I could see a walker ahead moving slowly. When I caught up I greeted a young woman limping badly. I asked whether she was recovering from an injury. She told me that she was waiting for a hip replacement and that she suffered from rheumatoid arthritis. We wished each other well and I moved ahead.

The next place was Ravenglass. I reached it on a pedestrian path attached to the side of a railway bridge over the River Mite. My map indicated a path along the beach south of Ravenglass which connected up to a road on the far side of a railway bridge. Nevertheless I thought it prudent to tap into some local knowledge so, as I reached the beach, I spoke to a man walking his dog. He was a long term resident having retired from working at Sellafield. I asked for confirmation that I could get through as suggested by the map. He said that it was impossible and that people had been prosecuted for using the railway bridge to cross the River Esk. He told me that a man had drowned two to three years ago trying to cross. His dog didn't follow him and that provided the first clue as to his master's fate. He wasn't found for a week as no one knew where the tide might have taken him.

This convinced me to change my plan and to make a long detour to the Esk Bridge on the A595. There were paths over the land leading to Muncaster Castle which would enable me to avoid a long hike along the main road. Unhappily I went wrong and eventually returned to Ravenglass via the well preserved Roman Bath House. By now I'd lost so much time that I decided to catch the train from Ravenglass to Silecroft and return another day to walk this section.

Seascale to Ravenglass 5.15 miles; total 2554.37

It seemed like an excellent idea to stay at one hotel and travel by train to my starting point each day. I could take more stuff and leave most of it in the hotel. Accordingly I booked a Travelodge room in Lancaster for four nights starting yesterday. Lancaster is large enough to be a good base with an ample choice of restaurants. The downside is the amount of time spent travelling to my starting point and then back from where I finish each day. Today I spent four and a half hours on the train or waiting for the connection at Barrow in Furness. That's where I had to change to reach Ravenglass to continue where I'd left off last time. Not only that but the day was dictated by the train timetable. If I didn't catch a particular train on a remote station (request stop only) then I'd have to wait two hours for the next one.

Nevertheless the die was cast so I took the 9 a.m. train from Lancaster to reach Ravenglass by 11.07. I walked to Muncaster Castle on paths but then had a spell on the A595 in order to cross the River Esk. Just beyond the bridge there was a stile and then a footpath. This footpath was prone to flooding within two hours of high tide. A tide chart was provided on the stile showing high tide times throughout the current year. I was nearer low tide so it was safe for me to proceed. I was heading for Hall Waberthwaite but the path was little used and soon disappeared. I found myself back on the A595 at Graymains but a track away from the main road soon took me back on the correct route. At Hall Waberthwaite there was a church and a sign indicating a ford over the Esk. I did wonder how safe that was.

Shortly after Newbiggin I reached the railway bridge crossing the Esk which had widened dramatically by this point. As I passed under the railway bridge I saw a yellow flag flying. This reminded me that there was an MOD firing range nearby. The accompanying notice board didn't explain what yellow meant. Soon afterwards I saw red flags which barred entry onto the land between the road and the seashore. Up until about now it had been raining steadily. This was the first rain I'd seen for weeks. It was such a novel experience to be rained upon that I hardly bothered to protect myself and became soaked. I deviated from the coastal road when I took a left fork heading inland at a shallow angle. After a while this became a rough track but it brought me to Bootle railway station where I sat to eat my lunch in a large covered area.

The next stage would take me to Silecroft Station. It was already 3.40. If I didn't catch the 5.44 I'd have to wait two hours for the next train. That didn't appeal as I was still soaking on this rare sunless day even though the rain had stopped. The best chance of making it was to go to Bootle village and then take the A595. I'd planned to take the coastal route but this was not so direct and the path was likely to be non-existent to poor once I reached the shoreline. I reluctantly opted for the main road. It was no fun but I did reach Silecroft Station by 5.15.

Whilst waiting for my connection at Barrow I had a look at the memorial for the Great War commemorating railwaymen who'd died in the conflict. There was a note underneath the memorial explaining how it became damaged. A number of holes, one quite large, were the result of bombs dropped in the Second World War. The Germans targetted Barrow as a ship building centre. This damage to the memorial could be taken as graphic confirmation that there can be no war to end war.

Ravenglass to Silecroft 14.77 miles. Total 2569.14.

Disembarking from the train at Silecroft, I headed for the coast in the hope of picking up the Cumbrian Coastal Path. At this point there was very little evidence that it existed except as a concept supported by the occasional notice board. After struggling along a stony beach, I found the glimmerings of a path on a grassy bank just above the shore. The adjoining golf course was protected by a barbed wire fence. Somehow I managed to trip on a collapsed section of barbed wire. Instinctively I reached out to arrest my fall and my hands closed on the main fence. They were lacerated. I stopped for a while to stem the bleeding and to apply anti-septic cream and plasters. I pressed on until I found a track heading inland. I reached Kirkstanton and then the A5093 which brought me to Millom. The cream had caused the plasters to become partially detached. I arrived at Millom a sorry spectacle but received a friendly welcome at my hotel.

Silecroft to Millom 5.08 miles; total 2574.22.

I set off from Millom at 9.15 following a track running parallel to the railway. At a cross roads near Green Road Station, a finger post pointed right over Duddon Sands. My O.S. Map showed a number of public rights of way over the sands but it also said that they were dangerous. Taking the route indicated by the sign would have meant a massive short cut. However, when the tide came in, it filled channels cutting off one's escape before any threat became visible. Also there were quick sands and deep mud. Without local knowledge, I was not quite enough of a fool to try it. Later, from higher up, I looked back on the estuary and saw a low lying bridge over the river as it flowed through the sand banks. That must be the route to follow at low tide. I'd learnt at my hotel last night that Cedric Robinson had led tours over the sands but he was now in his eighties.

A route through the hamlets of Strands, Arnaby, Hallthwaites and Lady Hall postponed the moment when I had to join the A595 to reach Duddon Bridge over the River Duddon. Another brief spell along the main road saw me into Broughton in Furness. I was now able to get all the way to Ulverston on minor roads. However, on the way to Foxfield, I began to worry about my left hand. Was one of my wounds from yesterday turning septic? Is the hand not becoming discoloured and swollen. I couldn't remove my ring. This confirmed my worst fears even though I hadn't tried to remove the ring for many years. The lone walker is prone to be carried off by a train of thought from which he might be saved by a sensible companion.

At Foxfield there was a manned level crossing. A man dressed in bright orange opened the gates to let traffic through between the A595 and a minor road. He advised me on my route to Kirkby in Furness. I asked him what the nearest hospital was with A and E. It was Barrow in Furness. I told him I wanted to go there to have my hand checked. Despite this being a strike day, there was a train at 3.02 calling at Barrow with Managers acting as guards. In the meantime Dave, the crossing keeper, tried to arrange a lift to Barrow for me with drivers passing through his gates. He made me a cup of tea, provided me with a chair and charged my phone in his hut nearby. Our conversation was constantly interrupted by traffic. Every vehicle had to be entered on a log kept in the hut and the gates opened and then shut. However, I did learn that Network Rail had decided not to invest in an automated crossing. Until 2 or 3 years ago the crossing gates were lit by paraffin lamps and a man came down from Workington once a week to maintain them.

As the time for my train approached, Dave directed me to Foxfield Station up the line where I was greeted by Richard, the signalman, who'd been warned by Dave of my arrival. After we'd exchanged a few words Richard invited me up into his signal box. This had been built in 1858 and was on the station platform. The signals were still operated by the Victorian system. There was a lever for each signal and I saw Richard pull them. One was rather stiff. Many of the levers were now redundant as they related to the Coniston line closed in 1953. Richard was an ex-policeman who came from Feltham in west London.

In the distance I could see the train on the far side of the sands. It hooted as it approached an unmanned crossing point. The train crossed the sands on its own bridge.

Millom to Foxfield 8.59 miles: total 2582.81.

At Barrow Hospital a nurse told me that my hand looked OK although I should keep an eye on it and that I didn't need a tetanus jab. By this time it was too late to continue so I took a taxi to my hotel in Ulverston. That's another section for me to complete when I resume these efforts.

There was a painful scene in the Lancaster newsagents this morning. A well dressed woman said “Hello” to me in a loud and exaggerated manner. She then ran through her extensive repertoire of greetings. The paper I wanted had not been included in the delivery and no further delivery was expected. The woman asked what the problem was as if solving it was within her power. She then started singing. The newsagent said she didn't want any singing in her shop. The other customers, like myself, were very subdued. But this woman was behaving as if she was the life and soul of a late night party. No one dared to say anything critical as there was no knowing how she might react. The woman seemed to be in good humour but this could easily have changed.

The train took me to Foxfield after the usual change at Barrow. I renewed my acquaintance with Dave, the level crossing keeper. He was as busy as ever opening and shutting the gates to let through the traffic from the main road. When there was no traffic the gates had to be closed so that trains could pass through. I shook his hand and walked on. As I approached Kirkby in Furness I decided that, if there was a cafe, I'd stop there. To my surprise there was a cafe near the railway station run by a couple of women. They admitted it was the only cafe in town but told me there were two pubs. I ordered a mug of tea and a scone with jam and cream. They warned me the cream was 50p extra but I said I wouldn't change my mind.

My first choice of table was unavailable as it had been reserved so I sat on a sofa by the next table. As I settled to eat my scone there seemed to be a bit of a commotion centred on an elderly woman standing just the other side of my table. She asked for my request, which I didn't understand, but I did ask if I was in her way. I then saw that she'd brought in an electric keyboard and was looking for a socket on the wall. I asked whether she had a regular gig at the cafe. Her audience consisted of the two women in charge, three women entirely intent on their own conversation and myself. She was perhaps a little nervous and seemed to find me sympathetic. To emphasise a point she was making, she got hold of my arm and started to push her face very close to mine as if I was very deaf. We were almost close enough to touch noses. I said she shouldn't take it amiss if I walked out as soon as she started playing as I had a train to catch in Ulverston. She intended to play a medley of Abba songs. I moved to a table nearer the door so that I wouldn't knock over her keyboard as I left. She played 'I do want to be beside the seaside' very quietly. I thought she was just warming up. She said that she'd played like Les Dawson but nobody noticed. I wished her luck with her session, shook her hand and departed.

I now climbed the steep hills that separated Kirkby from Ulverston. I saw my first blue sky of this trip. Behind me the sands of Duddon Bay stretched out over a wide area. Shortly afterwards I crested a hill and looked down on the far more extensive sands of Morecombe Bay. I descended into Ulverston to catch the 1506 train. Ulverston looked like a prosperous town with pubs, restaurants and hotels apparently doing well.

Foxfield to Ulverston 8.28 miles: total 2591.09

I had breakfast in my hotel room. A tray had been brought to my room on Saturday evening. I wanted to maximise my time for the walk from Ulverston to Grange-over-Sands where I was due to catch a train at 2.19. I left at 7.50 but I had the immediate problem of which road I should take to leave the town. Because I'd entered the town by taxi I'd not paid attention to my exact position within the town. The girls in the hotel tried to be helpful but couldn't read a map. I set out looking for landmarks like churches, main roads or museums that'd fix my position. I sought directions from a man standing in an archway off a road in the town centre. He'd lived in Ulverston all his life and said that, if I walked with him a short way, he'd put me on the right road to Penny Bridge. I asked whether this inconvenienced him. He told me that he was waiting for a parked car to move so that he could take a photo of a pub. His hobby was to compile photos of Ulverston. He preferred these photos to be car free so he was waiting for a couple of women in Greggs to leave and drive away. He complained that cars were making it more and more for him to extend his photo collection. Indicating the B5281 heading north, he bid me farewell.

I soon turned off the B road onto minor roads serving farms and isolated houses. Penny Bridge was near the bridge over the River Crake. The bridge served only pedestrians and cyclists. The river opens into a wide estuary at this point and there was plenty of sand and mud at low tide. It looked beautiful and treacherous. Half way across a small teddy bear hung on the railings next to a wreath of faded flowers. Someone must have been desperate enough to jump. It wasn't a long enough drop to be fatal but survival so far from the river banks would have been all but impossible.

I made good progress on the far side along a cycle route which made for fast walking. On this stage of the day I was troubled by blood sucking flies. I only became aware that one had settled on me when I felt the pain of a tube being inserted into a vein. I'd brush them off but they kept on coming.

Cartmel was a busy place with a horse racing track. There was an abundance of pubs and restaurants, people with binoculars hanging from their necks and a sense of expectation.

I reached Grange-over-Sands an hour and 40 minutes before my train time so I caught an earlier train to Lancaster to await my London train.

Mileage today 12.34: total 2603.43.

I took the train to Grange over Sands and started walking at 9.30. Now that I'd plugged the two gaps left on my last trip, I could make some progress. It was a warm sunny day. I followed cycle route 70 well away from the A595. I was momentarily tempted by a Cumbrian Way sign post but there was no discernible path on the ground. As others had shunned it so would I. The cycle route took me underneath the A595 and then on a minor road running parallel to it. The end of this section was dominated by a remarkable cliff face to the left of the road. The ascent of this would have been very difficult but there were one or two places where it might have been possible for a non-mountaineer to scramble up.

I reached the outskirts of Levens and crossed Levens Bridge over the River Kent. This brought me to Levens Hall which I'd visited a few years ago. It's famous for its topiary. A previous owner had been senseless enough to gamble away the Hall thus losing the property for his family. I was now on the A6 heading directly south. I took a minor road running parallel to the main road via Heversham. On this I saw a well preserved milestone dated 1826 indicating that I was 7 miles from Kendal and one and a half from Milnthorpe.

At Milnthorpe I took a 15 minute break for refreshment. A pub called Cross Keys on the main crossroads in the town had its heyday during the stage coach era. This was quite brief as the roads hadn't been good enough for stage coaches until turnpike roads were introduced in the 18th century. These were funded privately and entitled the investors to levy a toll to recoup their investment. At its peak the Cross Keys was servicing 20 stage coaches a day as this was the best stopping point between Lancaster and Kendal. All this came to an end in 1846 when the railway reached Milnthorpe. Another good source of revenue for the pub was 'the carriage trade.' Only the nobility, the gentry and merchants could afford their own private carriage. The pub had a ballroom that could accommodate 70 dancers.

I now left the A6 to join cycle route 6 just after crossing the bridge over the River Beta. I went through the villages of Beetham, Yealand Redmayne, Yealand Conyers and Warton. The last of these was, in the Middle Ages, the birthplace of several generations of the Washington family that produced George Washington, the first President of the United States.

I reached Carnforth at 5 o'clock. The bar on the platform had closed but they still served me a glass of apple juice. I was surprised that the bar was so substantial with several staff members. Then I saw that it stood next to the Heritage Museum which commemorated the classic film 'Brief Encounter' starring Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson. All the railway scenes were filmed on Carnforth Station. The film crew had to cover the station clock and put a false face on it so that they could adjust the clock time to match the plot.

Mileage today 20.08; total 2623.51

I returned to Lancaster and left my rucksack in my hotel. I caught a train to Carnforth about 2 p.m. This had been a village with two to three hundred inhabitants but that all changed with the coming of the railway in the 1840s and, later, the iron works. It became a centre for the maintenance of steam trains. When that ended a few years after WW2, hundreds lost their jobs.

I learnt this and more in the Heritage Museum mentioned in my previous entry. Although there were frequent showings of the film 'Brief Encounter' the museum was about much more than that. For example, it told the story of Albert Mankin, born locally, who won the V.C. in WW1. This hero sprinted 300 yards through mud under heavy fire and took a German machine gun post single handed. He then escorted a dozen German prisoners back to the allied lines. The account is so unbelievable that I did wonder whether the episode had been invented by British Generals to set an example for the rest of the troops to follow. On his arrival back at Carnforth, Mankin was accompanied back to his house by a brass band and locals including schoolchildren who'd been given time off lessons.

There was also a photo of a dozen local women who'd devoted themselves in WW2 to providing for the troops in trains passing through Carnforth Station, usually at night to minimize the risk of bombing. From limited supplies, they'd hand up to the train windows buckets of tea and sandwiches made of dried egg and home made jam.

I walked out of Carnforth in a heavy shower, one of many, on the A6. It was a relief to transfer to a cycle path alongside the Lancaster Canal. I left the canal at Bolton-le-Sands and took a quiet road south. Soon I followed a rough track to transfer onto a busier road nearer to the M6. I soon regretted this as there was fast traffic with no pavements or verges. However, this route enabled be to join the canal again just before it crossed the River Lune on Rennie's Viaduct built in 1797, a spectacular achievement. The canals looked like the future of transport then just before the railways.

I walked beside the south bank of the Lune into Lancaster and to my hotel near the centre.

Distance today 6.56. Total: 2,630.07.

I headed south through Lancaster on the A6. An early start at 0810 was to reduce any risk that I might miss the ferry from Knott-End-on-Sea to Fleetwood. According to the ferry website, the last sailing was at 5.45 p.m. with sailings every half hour throughout the day. I soon encountered the Lancaster Canal and I then followed it all the way to a point near Cockeram. For that entire section there were no locks except for one at the beginning of the lock arm leading off to Glasson on the coast. There were a few narrow boats and launches, most moored but some on the move. I exchanged greetings with a few people getting up late from their boats, no doubt discouraged by the heavy showers that blighted the first half of the day.

After Cockeram I headed west along the A588 on a pavement but I was soon able to take a minor road running parallel to and to the south of the main road. This was the route of the Lancashire Coastal Path. After Moss Edge Farm and Caravan Park, the Coastal Path deviated from the minor road. I followed a wide track until I reached a house. Two black labradors emerged, barking as they ran towards me. I stood still and the dogs nudged me with their snouts, better than being bitten. A woman ran out of the house apologising. I asked her the route of the Coastal Path which now diverged from the wide track. She said it ran behind a shed on their garden and was clearly marked. There were very visible yellow arrowhead markers at intervals but the path itself was suffering from neglect. A stile was smothered by brambles. I had to guess the direction using Pulling Hall as a marker. The fields were divided by rushes rather than hedges. This suggested that water of unknown depth threatened the unwary. Fortunately there were gaps for walkers to move from one field to the next and I reached a road leading to the A588.

Pulling village struck me as a bit strange. It was substantial with extensive housing, much of it of superior quality. I only saw three businesses amongst all the dwellings – a beauty parlour, a dog groomer and a nursing home. If there was a shop I missed it. It would be remarkable if there was no shop to serve such a large community.

Beyond Pulling I had a problem with a path shown on the map offering a short cut to Knott End. The path started well but lost conviction after I was committed. With difficulty I found a track running beside a series of private fishing lakes and then an establishment caring for dogs and cats.

I reached the quayside at Knott End fully two hours before the 1745 deadline. The ferry was on the opposite bank of the River Wyre so I'd just missed the 1545 sailing. I entered the nearby cafe for tea and a scone. There a waitress gave me the distressing news that I'd missed the last ferry of the day. I expressed disbelief so she took me to a chart on the front door of the cafe which showed that timings were influenced by the tides. The low tide that day meant that the 1545 sailing was the last. I'd not seen any reference to the tidal factor on the ferry website.

However, a bus was due in a few minutes that went to Blackpool via a bridge that took the A588 over the Wyre just beyond Hambleton. I hurried to the bus stop with my snack. The bus driver, a woman, was most sympathetic and helpful. She recommended that it'd be best if I switched to another bus at Poulton that'd take me to Fleetwood. She made enquiries at Poulton and advised me to stay on her bus for a while longer and then she'd drop me at a stop where Fleetwood bound buses were frequent. A few minutes after leaving the original bus I was in the new bus. That took me to within half a mile of my Fleetwood hotel. I was in my room by 1800.

Mileage today 17.73: total 2,647.8.

I walked from my hotel to the ferry terminal in order to start the day's walk.

Fleetwood was a 19th century new town financed by Peter Hesketh. He employed Decimus Burton, famous for palatial villas in Regent's Park, to design the town. In the 1830s there was no rail link between England and Scotland. The North Euston Hotel was built to accommodate rail passengers from London who would then take a steamer to Scotland. The creation of a rail link to Scotland severely damaged the hotel's business. Fleetwood enjoyed prosperity for a while as a port and centre for fish processing. Now the largest employer makes 'Fishermen's Friend', a menthol lozenge popular around the world, particularly in Japan. The number of benefit claimants is well above the national average.

A noted son of Fleetwood was Frank Swift, the great England goalkeeper. He became a journalist and died in the Munich Air Disaster. Fleetwood Town entered the Football League in 2012 and it's the smallest town to have a League side apart from Nailsworth, which hosts Forest Green Rovers.

As I left Fleetwood behind, I became aware of massive sea defences. This had the side benefit of providing a wide concrete promenade which ran continuously until beyond Blackpool's South Pier. It was much used by runners, walkers and cyclists.

After a small area of open land between the housing estates, I entered Cleveleys. Tourists were concentrated on the main shopping street. I stopped at a Visitor Information Caravan to ask where I could find a good cup of coffee. A very helpful man directed me to Costa some way down the main street. It was 1130 and already people were flooding into the numerous restaurants.

Back on the seaside promenade, I could now see Blackpool Tower and the North Pier. As soon as I reached them the whole promenade was full of tourists. They were not short of opportunities to spend their money. There were enormous hotels, restaurants and pubs. I could hear Bingo calls being broadcast from one building. Casinos featured largely. Fast food, ice cream and coloured rock were available at every turn. Later, by South Pier, I heard screams coming from the Big Dipper. If you had any cash left, you could blow it on a pink horse drawn coach. A couple, just married, had come to the sea front to enjoy their day. The groom had green hair.

The sea wall ended and I came to an area of grassed over sand dunes that divided Blackpool from Lytham. I reached my hotel in Lytham.

Distance today 14.06: total 2,661.86.

The weather lived up to the forecast which had showed an unbroken blue splodge over the whole of western England. I set off in rain which, although not heavy, fell relentlessly for over three hours. Lytham seemed interminable. On an industrial estate on the easternmost edge of the town, I saw a McDonalds. I took refuge there for a large coffee and a chocolate chip cookie. I just wanted to warm my hands and be dry for 20 minutes.

Shortly after I left Lytham I had to choose between a wide cycle track running alongside the A584 and a minor road following a much less direct route to Preston. I couldn't rely on the cycle route continuing all the way . Anyway, even it did, I couldn't face walking beside heavy traffic. As soon as I moved away from the main road my spirits lifted even though the rain hadn't yet stopped.

You may wonder why I should be walking to Preston. The River Ribble has no bridge and no ferry so I'm forced to make this big diversion inland.

Kirkham was on my route. On an overcast Sunday after hours of rain, it didn't look its best and those few inhabitants abroad seemed intent on getting back indoors. The map showed a prison here but I didn't go close enough to see it. West of Kirkham I followed minor roads involving several right angled turns leading to Salwick. Ironically the course of a Roman road was indicated on the map going quite straight in the same direction. After Lea Town I crossed a railway and I was soon in the western suburbs of Preston – a big city contained on its eastern side by the M6. I arrived at my hotel which was conveniently close to the railway station.

Distance today 16.41: total 2,678.27

During the night I was woken by guests returning to the hotel at around 2 a.m. They then talked for about one and a half hours. I couldn't get back to sleep so I just read my book. I commented on this to the woman in charge over breakfast. She said that some of these guests had brought back with them extra people who were not booked in at the hotel. She had insisted that these people should leave and the legitimate guests had decided to go with them.